What Part of “Service” Do You Not Understand?
You know what sucks about spending Friday night hanging out at a Toyota dealership? No bar. And why not? They have comfortable couches, a big screen TV, wireless internet – now if someone would just serve me a fucking gin and tonic, perhaps I would be content to spend yet another ceaseless “20-25 minutes” hanging out waiting for a vehicle I had dropped off at 7:30 in the morning for an hour-long repair of some recall which lands up taking 11 hours and all of my patience, including my reserves.
Seriously, I think I burnt 2000 calories twitching my left leg Friday night, and the only “Service” I was offered was some coffee flavored water so old that it had formed a skin on top. Perhaps, given the soothing effects of a G&T, Hec would not now be referred to as the “Husband of That Bitch,” by the “Service” team at our Local Toyota Dealership.
I don’t generally go into tirades about sexism, and considering my audience, I recognize that it would be imprudent for me to do so at this time. However, as I am about to have one, I shall preface it with the assertion that I’m not a feminist; I don’t think men and women are equal in all things and, despite the fact that some men grow enviable breasts, I have no desire to have a penis. But when I arrive at the “Service” desk to pick up my vehicle after the umpteenth “20-25 minutes” of the day, and one of the “Service” guys tells me he’ll check and see how much longer it will be and then never reappears, and 45 minutes later I approach three “Service” guys sitting around talking about trucks and Budweisers to ask them about my vehicle, and they look at my mousy face with the geeky glasses and then look at my breasts and apparently decide that I am a woman, but not a hot woman, and as such need not be treated with any type of respect, and thus they tell me “20-25 more minutes,” and I ask them if this is a “Real 20-25 minutes,” and one of them looks at me, looks at my breasts again, and shrugs and says “maybe,” I get a little cranky…
Ok. I’m done now.
Addendum: If you have a 10 foot driveway and it habitually takes you 5 days to bring in your recycle bins and garbage cans, you’re lame.
And no, I have not abandoned my Sea Monkey project. The Babies are doing swimmingly, literally, and tonight they’ll get their first feeding… Photos to follow…
March 7th, 2010 at 6:29 pm
That dealership gives me a hard time too, except they don’t stare at my breasts. Unfortunately I will be bringing my vehicle there this week and also will have to put up with their crap.
March 7th, 2010 at 6:40 pm
I recommend Wireless Room, Station 1; the location of the electrical outlet is far superior to that of Station 3 (by the window). Vending machine beverages are $1.50, in case you’re not fond of eating your coffee with a fork…
March 7th, 2010 at 9:27 pm
I see it two ways, take off your glasses or get bigger breasts. I suggest both just to be safe. Oh, this advice is for Lewie when he goes there this week, not you Bellamy.
March 9th, 2010 at 11:59 am
Maybe the service techs were delaying the repairs so they could oogle you more…..
March 9th, 2010 at 4:26 pm
Yeah… that’s it…