Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Has Anyone Seen My Spine?

People don't listen anymore. And I'm not talking about husbands and children. I'm talking about real people. Like the guy at the car service place. I called to make an appointment to have the oil changed.
“No problem’” he says, “Come in at eleven.”

Okay.

Only then did I read the email they’d sent earlier. It says I need my 7500-Mile Scheduled Maintenance. Ack! I’d only scheduled an oil change! I call back.
“Does it make a difference in the appointment time,” I ask.
“Nope,” he says, “We’ll see you at eleven.”

Whew.

(Eleven o’clock): I pull the car into the service bay. On time – Oh Yes! I’m so damn responsible.
“Hi,” I say, “I’m here for my 7500-Mile Scheduled Maintenance.”
Shit, his eyes say. “What time is your appointment,” he asks aloud.
“Uh…eleven.”
“Well,” he says, “I’ll have to find out who you talked to because they go to lunch from eleven to twelve.”
“I called back,” I say. “I told them I needed the 7500-mile thing and they said it was okay.” I sound squeaky. I sound like I’m lying. Oh, God, am I lying? I hear the whir of my brain rewinding to the phone call.

He turns and walks into the office. I follow. “I did call and they said it was okay,” I almost whimper. I KNOW HOW TO MAKE A FREAKIN’ APPOINTMENT! I TOLD HIM IT WAS THE 7500-MILE THING, I scream at him. Or want to.

“Were you going to wait?” he asks incredulously.
“Uh, that was my plan.”
“Huh. It could take two hours,” he says in his best serves-you-right tone. “Our shuttle can take you over to the mall if you want.”
OH GREAT! NOW I GET TO SPEND TWO FREAKIN’ HOURS IN THE FREAKIN’ MALL BECAUSE BILLY BOB DOESN’T KNOW HIS LUNCH HOUR FROM HIS ASS? “That would be super,” I say as if he’s just done me a huge favor.

Crap.

I’m waiting for the Favor Shuttle, trying to look like the world’s most patient and understanding customer (smiling like the village idiot and feeling like a 14-year-old who just got busted for cheating on a test) when a mechanic walks in and says to his co-worker: “Well, I guess I won’t be getting a lunch today.” They exchange a don’t-you-just-hate-customers-who-don’t-know-how-to-properly-schedule-an-appointment look.

RAT BASTARDS.

1 comment:

ameliak said...

Bat Rastards! Greasy Monkey Bastards! You should have pulled a gigantic sandwich out of your purse and said, "Mmmmmmm, this lunch is soooo delicious!"