"ACE Car Rental: No Smoking, No Smiling, No Service"
If you've ever wondered what it's like to rent a car from someone who appears to hate both cars and people, may I humbly recommend ACE Car Rental at DFW.
Landed at DFW, feeling good, ready to grab my car and hit the road. Instead, I met the human embodiment of a Monday morning: a blonde-headed, portly gatekeeper who looked like she'd just lost a bet with happiness. Her opening line? Not "Welcome to ACE," not even "Hello." Just: "ID and credit card." like a drill sargent barking off commands. I mean, a real poet.
She then announced, with all the joy of a funeral director, that she couldn't find my reservation. Obviously my fault. When she asked for my "round-trip credit card," I froze--was this some secret pilot program by American Express? I admitted I didn't know what that meant. She sighed deeply, as if I'd just confessed to never hearing of gravity, and said, "It's the credit card you used to book your round-trip flight."
Ma'am, you're literally holding it. The very card you demanded. The one still warm from my wallet.
But the real fun began with The Smoking Lecture. According to her, smoking in the car would result in a cleaning fee. Fair enough--except she said it again. And again. And again. By the third time, I started wondering if ACE equips their vehicles with built-in nicotine sensors or if she just moonlights as the Marlboro Police. I told her no one would be smoking. She looked unconvinced, as though she could smell the ghost of cigarettes from three airports away.
She then reminded me to return the car with a full tank--or face the Refueling Fee of Doom--before pivoting back to smoking. "If anyone smokes in the car..." she began, for the fourth time. I half-expected her to slide a nicotine patch across the counter for my "safety."
By this point, I wasn't sure if I was renting a car or pledging an oath to a Puritan anti-smoking cult. I felt like saying "Lady, I get it. I'm not Snoop Dogg on tour."
I signed everything she shoved at me, praying there wasn't a hidden clause about eternal damnation should a wisp of smoke cross the rearview mirror.
Then came the photo shoot. Apparently, I now had to photograph every square inch of the car before driving off. Not just a few photos--no, we're talking full CSI: DFW edition. I snapped the front, the back, the tires, the roof, the reflection of my own weary soul in the side mirror--because heaven forbid a mosquito lands on the hood and they charge me for "bug impact damage." By the end, I'd taken more pictures of that rental car than I have of my last vacation.
In the end, I drove away feeling less like a customer and more like an escaped hostage.
ACE, if your goal is to make renting a car feel like attending a judgmental intervention, congratulations--you nailed it.
Next time I land at DFW, I'll smoke a brisket in the car just to give them a reason to be this upset.
Because at ACE, "customer service" clearly stands for Aggressively Condescending Employees. read more