It started with an email:
Let’s see, do I remember that Mini?
Yes. Yes I do. Story time: I bought that Mini February of 2009. Custom-built: no sunroof or automatic A/C, but I added in bonnet stripes, fog lamps, and sport seats. 6-speed manual transmission.
It had a turbo button. They actually called it a “sport” button: increased responsiveness of the throttle and the tightness of the steering. It was a turbo button.
And in January of 2013 I lost the cushy job that let me afford said amazing car.
Thankfully, I had enough equity in that car that I could sell it to CarMax and get one that... runs. And I own outright with no payments, so we’ve got that going for it.
Still, though, that doesn’t mean I’m happy about the whole thing:
Now, CarMax, like many large companies these days, has people monitoring their Twitter account. So they responded, and we had a little conversation:
And that was that.
Or at least, I thought so until a week later:
OK, sure, you want to send me something. This is why I have a PO Box.
Now I’m curious.
Anyway, this week I finally had a chance to head to the Post Office and pick it up. For those familiar with the United States Postal Service, it was a “medium flat rate” box. Not the CarMax Koozie I was expecting, then.
In fact, it wasn’t something CarMax at all:
Well played, CarMax; well played. I’ll see you in a few months when I sell my house and can actually afford one of your cars.
