My Brand New Used Car

May 27, 2009

There seems to be some magical force that hangs over the island and makes even the simplest of task long and complicated and both frustrating and amusing at the same time. Today the force was with me….

My brand new used car arrived from Japan yesterday so I went to pick it up at the dock this morning. Simple as that may seem, the morning turned into a bit of a scavenger hunt. Luckily I had been forewarned.

The road from our office, which is 5 miles outside of town, passes through town and then heads toward the shipping port area, which is next to the airport. Micronesians seem to take things very literally, so it makes sense that they placed the airport next to the port.

Heading through town, I stop at an auto repair shop a co-worker had recommended to see about getting the oil changed. Who knows when the last time the oil was changed? I find the place, after first stopping at the tire shop next door by mistake, and ask the guy how much they charge to do an oil change.

“$15,” I’m told. That seems too cheap. The cost of labor is next to nothing here, but the oil and filter are still imported goods. Sometimes 15 and 50 sound alike, especially if the listener struggles with accents.

Not sure I heard correctly, I ask, “one five or five zero?”

“One five, $15 to change oil and filter and lube,” he restates.

Since I’m pretty sure I’ve seen oil being sold for $4 a quart and most cars take 4 quarts, this isn’t making sense to me. I just sort of stand there looking confused, trying to figure out what to do next.

Sensing my confusion, he restates, “one five, $15 to change oil and filter and lube.” Then he adds, “Plus the cost of oil and filter.”

It all makes sense now. Micronesians are literal people. I had asked how much they charge to change the oil. Its $15 to change it, plus the cost of the oil.

That issue resolved, I head off to pick up the car. I’ve never had anything imported before so the process is new to me. I’m not sure what it entails in the U.S., but in the FSM this is the process I went through:

Step 1: Go to the transit company’s office with my bill of lading and they stamp it and have me sign that I received the vehicle, which of course at this point in time I haven’t even seen yet.

Step 2- Go to the state finance office where I’m asked whether it’s for business or personnel use. It’s for personnel use so they stamp the bill of lading, no fee.

Step 3 – Go the Custom’s Office. I was told that Customs is in the three story building across from a certain store. I come to a three story building and park. There is no sign out front. I open the door on the first floor and enter a Dept. of Health building. There is no one there so I walk up to the 2nd floor. I open the door and enter another health related office. There is no one there so I walk up the stairs to the third story and enter yet another health related office. There is no one there so I walk down the three flights of stairs and go to the adjacent building, a little one story building.

I ask where the Customs Office is and learn that there is another three story building on the other side of the one story building. Both are across from the store and I had just gone to the first one I saw. The 2nd three story building is set pretty far back from the street so I had never noticed it before. The sign on the door says “National Office of Tax and Revenue”. Close enough. As I walk in, I see there are customer service windows on the right side and on the left. None are marked. I go to the right and am directed to go to the left. I go to the window with the bill of lading and am told I need the invoice. I was expecting this sort of thing so every piece of paper I have related to the car I have brought with me. I retrieve the invoice from the car, return to the window, and pay the import tax (4% of the total cost of bringing the vehicle into the country, including the shipping cost, in case you’re interested).

Step 4 – I’m told to go to the Port Authority. No problem. There is a guard house and gate where the fishing boats dock. The big sign in front says Port Authority. I’ve noticed it before so I know exactly where to go.

I pick up a co-worker who is working on a project in town so that he can drive the office vehicle back to town after I get my car. We head to the port authority guard house and the guard tells me I’m at the wrong place. I need to go to the two-story building next to the airport, which is just up the road a ¼ mile or so. I go to the two-story building (which doesn’t have a sign), pay $11.72 (a formula based on size and weight), and get stamp #4.

Step 5. It’s off to the loading zone, which is only a 100 yards down the road. A friendly guy in the warehouse directs us to the office, which was partially hidden by a shipping container. I pay $30 to the company that offloads freight, get stamp #5, and go back to the friendly warehouse guy. He counts the five stamps, some paperwork is completed, and the car is mine.

The gas gage is on empty and the oil, which I checked, seems dangerously low but town is only around 2 miles away. Fortunately, I have $20 left in my pocket so I can buy 5 gallons of gas. I gas up and drive over to the mechanic’s shop.

No one is working in the shop and the office door is locked. My watch says 11:38. The hours posted on the office door say, “8:00 to 11:30. 12:30 – 5:30.”

No problem. This is actually good. The car only came with one key and I wanted to get duplicates made as soon as possible. I can leave my car at the shop, walk the mile back to where my office car was left, drive the two miles to the hardware store, get the duplicate key made, and return to the shop to let them know which car is mine and to reaffirm the oil change appointment.

I used my last $20 for gas but the bank is between the repair shop and the location of the office car. Perfect, I can get money to buy the duplicate keys, pay the mechanic, and get lunch. Besides, I needed to stop by the bank and see if my checks had arrived yet for the checking account I had opened in March.

My checks weren’t there. I had called in April and they hadn’t arrived. I had called earlier in May and found out that not only had they not arrived, they hadn’t been ordered. They still hadn’t arrived but the nice new accounts rep pulled out her log book and saw that she personally had ordered them after my last phone call. Since, during our previous phone call she had taken the time to investigate why they hadn’t arrived and, in doing so, had found out that they hadn’t arrived because they hadn’t been ordered, I like her.

I’m reassured that they should arrive within a week and that if I need to, they can manually print me some checks. Since I’m out of starter checks and going to the bank requires using up my lunch hour to make the 10 mile round trip from the office, I decide to do the prudent thing. I ask her to print me a few checks. I then learn they are 25 cents a piece. Man of principal that I am, I’m not going to pay 25 cents a check when the reason I need the printed checks is because the bank failed to place the check order.

Though I am a man of principal, I wasn’t a man of either the extra time or the patience it would take to explain how ludicrous it would be for them to charge me the 25 cent fee. Instead, “I’m not paying the fee,” I informed her with no uncertainty in my voice. I add, a little more nicely, “I’ll hold off on the checks for now.”

I still need the cash I originally stopped in to get, so I ask, “Would you please write my account number on a withdrawal slip so that I can withdraw some cash,” I ask. (They don’t have an ATM machine.)

“You can’t use a withdrawal slip for a checking account. You need a check,” she informed me. I could have very easily gotten upset. In fact, some of you (you know who you are) are probably quite surprised that I didn’t explode. I could have easily exploded. The one thing that kept me from getting upset was the fact that she provided me with this information in the most matter-of-fact voice possible.

Her tone intrigued me. We had just had a whole conversation about how the checks were not originally ordered and how the first time I called the customer rep failed to notice that the checks hadn’t been ordered and how I had to call back a second time. After all that, with no hesitation in her voice, no acknowledgement of the irony of the situation, no apology, she simply stated “You can’t use a withdrawal slip for a checking account. You need a check.”

I asked her to print a check. Still amused by the absurdity of the whole situation, I decided to give her the lonely quarter sitting in my pocket rather than make her fill out whatever paperwork the bank would require to reconcile the non-collected fee of 25 cents. About 25 seconds later she came back, having gone to the back to type my name and account number on a blank check. She was very thankful when I gave her the quarter, adding that she was just going to pay it herself.

Cash in my pocket I left the bank to complete my walk to the office car. It started to rain. Hard. My co-worker from earlier this morning had just driven past in his car going in the opposite direction. Nice guy that he is, he turned around and gave me a ride to where the office car was.

To the hardware store. Getting a duplicate key made is usually a pretty simple process. Duplicate keys are made from specific master keys. There are different master keys for different car makes and lock models. The hardware store had between 25 and 50 master keys. They were out of the one I needed. No problem, there is a second hardware store in town. The second hardware store was also out of the master I needed. (Note: I later found a second key in the glove compartment).

It was now 12:30 so I went back to the shop. After explaining and re-explaining and just plain begging the mechanic not to lose the only key to the car I had, I surrendered the key to the mechanic.

That was my morning. The mechanic did not lose the key and I was able to pick up the car after work.

Postscript: Tomorrow I will need to get a license plate for the car. This is a much shorter process that involves only a trip to the police station where they verify ownership papers, do a vehicle safety check (horn, lights, blinkers, etc), and give you a form to take to the state finance office a ½ mile away. After paying the license plate fee at Finance, a person just needs to return to the police office, show proof of payment, and pick up the plates.

Sounds simple, right? Across the street from the police station there is an empty lot. Next to the empty lot there is a small hotel and conference center. An American guy I know had to go to a conference at the center so he parked his car in the empty lot, as people often do. When he came out his car and all the other cars belonging to non-locals that were parked in the empty lot had parking tickets.

Since there was no “No Parking Sign” he walked across the street to find out why they were ticketed. He was told that the lot belongs to the Police Dept., that no parking is allowed there, and that the Police Dept. is saving up to buy a No Parking Sign. The ticket was later dismissed.

I can’t wait until tomorrow. (Postscript: The registeration process was completed in a quick, efficient manner).