Monday, December 10, 2012
Good Old Boys
It’s not a good sign when one of the first Christmas cards you get is from your auto mechanic. My bad car Karma must have provided a big chunk of the year’s profits to garner a spot on the Christmas card list. I visited the mechanic’s shop numerous times over the last couple of years. I thought I had built up a nice rapport with Michael, the manager. I have always been leery of auto mechanics but Michael put me at ease and was very patient when I asked questions. Then, this weekend we got the Christmas card. Or should I say, my husband got the Christmas card. Rick took my car in for service once, and had a phone conversation with Michael once. Apparently they bonded, because the Christmas card came addressed to Rick. It didn’t even say “Mr. & Mrs”. Just Rick. The car is mine, and I spent a small fortune getting it running smoothly. Yet my name wasn’t on the Christmas card. Rick says I am overreacting at the snub. I beg to differ. (Please oh please let me differ). Many years ago, I took my Subaru into the dealership for some kind of check-up. On my way home, the entire car started to shake. I took it back to the dealership, and of course nobody could recreate the shaking. Then the Service Dude suggested that perhaps I hadn’t been driving my car in the right gear. OMG! He was dismissive and insulting and probably thought I should take my pretty little self home to bake cookies. Serious douche-baggery was afoot. That time, Rick saw the injustice and called the dealership to complain about how I’d been treated. I suppose I should have called myself, but I figured I would just get another pat on the head. As it turned out, though, Service Dude’s boss was a woman. She told Rick the guy had been talked to before about this inappropriate behavior. Awesome! So that one time, the Girls prevailed. Michael included a $20 certificate for future service in the Christmas card. I’ll send Rick the next time my car needs service. That way, maybe we’ll get a $50 certificate next year. If this makes me some kind of a car repair pimp, so be it. I’m just trying to be one of the boys.