Stopped at this place a few years back, during a long road trip, to have an oil change done on my Toyota Corolla. Figured it would be a quick, painless ordeal but the ensuing, horrifying, nearly disastrous cluster-fluff of mechanical ineptitude I witnessed has stuck with me for years and since become a running joke amongst family & friends to avoid this place at all costs.
I should have known something was wrong when one of the oil techs asked me THREE TIMES what type of car I had....twice while he was underneath it. He kept thinking it was a Nissan Altima. The third and final time, as I stood in the bay quietly observing (I had my doubts by then) he seemed to be halfway through the service and he again said, "Okay, one more time, this is an Altima? No! Corolla, right?" as I nodded and again verified the make & model of my car.
Which, I'd like to point out, was & still is one of the most commonplace vehicles on the roads in America. It's not like I rolled in to the place in a Merkur Scorpio or a DeLorean. But, I digress.
So, they complete the job and I pay and I leave. Before I even hit the street, there's an unsettling "clunk" from under the car. Less than a minute later I'm at the stop light and my "low oil" light is on. I U-turn and come back, passing a big puddle of fresh oil and a new oil filter laying in the middle of their parking lot.
I pulled back into the bay and informed the manager of the situation. Techs re-did the oil change, with the aid of a thick manual with Every Oil Filter Part Number Ever Made, and under the supervision of the manager. I wish I was kidding when I tell you the tech actually asked, ONE MORE TIME, the "Altima? No! Corolla?" question, with the manual in his hand. At that point the boss simply handed him the correct filter and the job was completed, correctly, the second time.
I received a half-hearted apology and no form of compensation/discount. I shudder to think of my fate had the filter fallen off 300 miles later, instead of in the parking lot.