when i left work this morning, i was able to retrieve one of my wayward wipers. unfortunately, it was in such a sad state that no amount of duct tape, band aids, or even those little shocky-paddle things were going to be able to fix the poor thing. still, no one likes a litterbug, and i figured maybe my dad could use it to beat the person who installed the thing (and its twin).
speaking of my dad, when i called him later and told him my tale of woe, he was very quiet.
as i recall from my teenage years (during which our relationship was strained, to put it nicely), silence is not always a good thing.
in this, case, however, it was followed not with, "what the heck did you do this time?", but with "hmmm...i wasn't sure i'd gotten those on quite right."
"no, daddy. i can tell you with great certainty that you did not."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
auto zone was last on my list of errands this afternoon, and i walked in waving my rescued wiper.
the last time i was in the store was several months ago, when i had to bite the bullet and replace my chariot's 12 year old battery. i can't remember whether i posted about my exchange with the salesperson on here or not but long story short, i had a pleasant conversation with the salesperson as he replaced my battery, but had to end it with something to the effect of," i'm flattered, and my boyfriend will appreciate the confirmation of his good taste."
as i recall, the salesperson was due for a promotion, which included a move to another location.
i tell you this because i walked in this afternoon and was a little surprised when the first thing out of the salesman's mouth was, "you ain't driving that little miata anymore?"*
guess that transfer/promotion didn't happen.
during the first wiper installation attempt**, he asked how i was doing. (you know- the normal pleasantries.) i replied that i was "doing okay".
"only "okay"? you looking like you've been doing mighty fiiiiiiiiiiine to me."
oh. my. word.
(i can't recall exactly how i reacted to that. the shock of the utter cheesiness.... and i'm cheesy but, on the cheesiness scale, this was like an extra sharp cheddar. i usually operate at a gouda level, myself.)
i managed to steer things back toward small talk, but he still tried to be smooth one last time.***
after the installation of the second set of wipers was complete, i asked him if there were any sort of warranty against them flying off. if one went sailing into the sunset, could i come back and get free replacements, or would i have to content myself with bringing the wayward blade (if retrievable) in and waving it around while yet another purchase was rung up?
"there's no warranty like that, but let me give you my phone number."****
"oh, that's ok. i live close enough that if something happens i'll just come to the store."
honestly, i'm a little surprised he didn't just try to slip a piece of paper with his phone number scribbled on it under my sparkling new wipers. maybe he isn't that smooth, after all.....
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*i feel the need to point out here that this was the second time in less than an hour that i'd had to suppress the urge to say, "are you nuts? of course this isn't my car! i am still young and sexy (said quickly, in an attempt to keep a straight face) and so is my vehicle. MY vehicle- as in MY MIATA- not this land yacht of which i am currently (TEMPORARILY!) the captain."
instead, i went with a short explanation about how i'd swapped with my dad so he could get my holey convertible top replaced.
**i say "first" because the computer apparently lied when it told him the less expensive wipers would work on the land yacht i am currently driving, necessitating a return/refund before the ink on my check had dried completely.
***lest i sound ungrateful for the attention which, frankly, is not something i'm used to, i should point out that i was flattered, but didn't want to get this guy's hopes up. i mean, after all, i have a boyfriend, and the only way i'm trading him in is if i'm trading up to a better model.....say, jason statham or matthew mcconaughey.
****he is smooth as ice, isn't he? (i mean that not in a "vanilla ice, circa 1991" way, but in a "vanilla ice, circa now" way.)
No comments:
Post a Comment