Today I learned that, even though the old lady hit my car last week, I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR MY DEDUCTIBLE until her fucking insurance company complies and pays the claim, even though the woman has already admitted guilt.
A witness has already been interviewed by both agencies, saying: "YES, THE OLD BIDDY HIT THIS NICE WOMAN'S BMW WITH HER CLUNKY, OLD TOYOTA CRESSIDA THAT HAS A FUCKING COW CATCHER ON HER FRONT FENDER AND STILL HAS OLD WHITE/GREEN WASHINGTON STATE LICENSE PLATES!" But I guess that doesn't matter.
See, the problem is, her insurance agency, also known as "Good Sam" -- a division of GMAC -- can sit on their asses for 30 days before paying out a claim. They don't have to play nice if they don't want to.
You know, the $250 isn't the issue here--it's the principle of the matter. Why the hell should I fork over the cash?
I'm pissed and secretly plotting revenge. I've already called the nice lady at GMAC who is supposedly working on my claim; but she has yet to return my call. Gee, I wonder why?
Needless to say, the codeine is wearing off and I'm having a hard time writing because I'm just so unnaturally bent right now that I'm ready to snap.
I did, however, finish reading Augusten Burroughs' Magical Thinking and I'm convinced if I use my mind, both the old lady and her insurance company's claims rep will suffer the consequences. I highly recommend the book, by the way. It's good for some page turnin' laughter, I guarantee it.
Time for some more chocolate...
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