Understanding in a car crash or, how I spent my Wednesday

Let me set a scene for you. It was Wednesday morning. I had woken up, boundlessly optimistic as ever, to a world full of endless possibilities. I ventured out into the world to pick up my bi-weekly pittance from my place of employ, and upon opening the envelope died a little inside (fear not stalwart readers, that happens every time I open a check, and was far from the worst thing to happen to me). Nevertheless, I remained reasonably optimistic, and in a world with, if not endless, at least several possibilities. Alas, when I got back on the road, I was waiting at a red light to get on I-76 when the waveform collapsed and I occupied a world with only one future before me. A future wherein an inattentive fellow behind the wheel of a rather large Chevy slammed into my little car sending it straight into the 18 wheeler in front of me. Given the relative mass of the vehicles in front of me, it was rather like a wrecking ball throwing me into a brick wall.
Fortunately, it was a pretty cut and dry situation in terms of determining fault,since both myself and the semi involved were stationary till his arrival. Police arrived, statements were taken, insurers were notified. Both the Tahoe and the semi were minimally damaged, but my car... my poor little Taurus who never hurt a soul (who, indeed never even got the chance) let out a gasping exhalation of smoke and bled a variety of fluids all over the road and the rear bumper of the semi. It is quite ruined. So, whilst the fellow who struck me (hereto forward known as Smashy mcNolook), and the fellow I was knocked into both went forth into the world, in fully functional automobiles, I was given a tow to the local impound lot, and got to deal with Smashy mcNolook's insurer. I was given a claim number, and an adjuster was assigned to me. Attempts to actually speak to said adjuster were cruelly rebuffed by her voicemail. Attempts to use the 'for immediate help' extension resulted in another equally unhelpful voicemail box. Attempts to use their main line resulted in the operator helpfully telling me that her attempts to connect to that department were going straight to voicemail. Fucking. Brilliant.
First impressions of Geico:

Several hours later (hours I might add that were spent sitting in the sun on a rickety wooden bench outside the impound lot) My assigned adjuster got back to me. In their defense, once someone who actually had customer service in their job description got in touch with me, things got moving fairly smoothly. I've got a (very small*) rental car, and now need only wait for a field adjuster to look at the twisted wreckage of my car and, inevitably, total it. Wheee.

*Like seriously tiny. My knees poke out the side windows whilst my genitals are gently cradled by the steering wheel (This makes turning painful).