WHY we all have Car Insurance

If I had written this blog post earlier in the day it would have looked like this probably:
djinfnuf nebdujeij $*&! &#*%
I'll explain.
Nearly 3 weeks ago, when I was visiting "Mother Of One Thru Four," my car was hit. I'll call that girl: Bambi.
I park in the SAME spot every. Single. Time. I visit MOOTF. Sometimes, I visit MOOTF twice a week. When I visit, it's usually for a few hours. So, You know, MY CAR IS THERE A LOT.
Anyway. Bambi was backing out of her sister's driveway and backed right into my car.

I was nice. I didn't throw a fit or call the cops or lie and say she did more damage than that very nice crease in the fender. There was a small dent from when a deer bounced off the car years ago. The door has a bit of damage from that deer too. We looked at the car. Took pictures, agreed on what was new. I told her that the fender was now creased so more than likely it would need replaced.
Even I know you can't "uncrease" metal.
She asked me if she could call me with the insurance information when she got home. Bambi had a baby in the little suv and she wanted to talk to her husband about paying out of pocket. Being the nice, non asshole person I am? I said OK.

I went inside and described the incident to MOOTF. Bambi called me with the insurance info, then gave me bullshit (should have been my first clue) about not paying to fix something she didn't damage. (The door) I told her I would get estimates for the fender, after she gave me more grief about the insurance.
For a moment, I felt like I was talking to a customer at work. One who had gone over her minutes, knew she went over the minutes, had refused our offer to increase minutes but still wanted credits for ALL of the overage. (My Brain Hurt.)
This was a Thursday. I worked My usual schedule. So Tuesday, I go to a dealer and ask for an estimate for only the fender.
$970.

I showed it to MOOTF that day. I have a car with a METAL BODY. Not plastic. Metal is expensive.
Later, I call Bambi and give her the bad news. She has the balls to insinuate that I should not have the fender fixed. I very nicely tell her that she really needs to call her insurance. SINCE SHE HASN'T AT THIS POINT. The insurance company might have a place I can take it to, I say. So, she said she will call her agent in the morning. At the urging of a friend, I get a 2nd estimate at a body shop the next day. "Body shops are cheaper than a dealer."
$1200.

THE INSURANCE Company finally calls me while I was waiting for the write up of the estimate. I tell her that I don't care who pays for the fender. I just want it fixed. (My Mistake.) She tells me that THEY HAVE A PLACE IN WEXFORD. Three damn miles from the dealer I went to the day before. Only they can't get me in till Thursday. I waste my 45 minute lunch to rush over for the estimate. We discuss that I will need a rental car since they will need 2 days. He says he will call me when the fender is in. Rush back to work. His estimate before the approximate $250 for the rental I will need and not be paying for?
$720

That was 1/12. I called the claims agent 1/17. She informs me that Bambi hasn't returned her call. I had a 5 year old to throw a birthday party for and had to manage that this past weekend. So, I focused on the party. Today, I get a voicemail right before lunch time.
It is a fucking (see how long that took?) minute and a half of Bambi telling me that she is still TRYING TO DECIDE if she is going to pay for it. Why? WHY? Because the mean old insurance company can't quote her an exact figure of how much her insurance will go up.
Look, I have been patient and nice. But you know what? It's nearly $1000 no matter which way you cut it. Your fucking insurance is not going up $1000. Unless you wreck into things all the damn time. THIS is why people act like assholes, call the cops, yell, and throw fits over minor fender benders.
She has until Friday. On Friday, I'm calling that agent and telling the agent I want the insurance company to pay for it. Bambi has had more than enough time.
If her sister didn't live across the street from MOOTF, I would have called today.

If you got this far, the moral of the story is : Don't be an asshole. If it is your fault, let your damn insurance take care of it. That is what the fuck you pay them for. Period.