Saturday, March 01, 2008

My Cynical Saturday

I know this post is kind of long, but I had to vent about my day:

I went to get the oil changed in the car today. We hit the 5000 mile mark a couple weeks ago and David took it in, but they couldn't change it because it needed to be "evacuated" and they didn't have the equipment at the moment. So I called the lube shop this morning to ask if they had the equipment and the woman replied, "Yes, maam." So I got there, waited about 20 minutes and the greasy, dirty employee came to me and told me that they couldn't change my oil because they needed to order another part to be able to reach the bottom of my oil pan. Apparently at our last oil change in May 2007 somebody wrote on the cross bar beneath our car "DO NOT TOUCH PLUG" in 2 inch tall letters with yellow puffy paint along with a nice big puffy yellow "X" next to the oil plug. This means that they have to empty the oil from the top with some sort of vacuum which is typical of foreign cars, but we have a good 'ol American Ford.

What in the world???

We have never taken our car to any other place for an oil change and of course the place won't admit to having painted that there.


So I grumpily got into the car and drove to the Ford dealership. It was 2:30pm and the service hours stickered on the door read 8am - 3pm.


I walked in and said I needed an oil change and the employee said they were closing up shop and he couldn't do it.

What? The sign says 3:00! If you are going to turn people away at 2:30 then post 2:30 on the door! Grrrr!

I even pathetically squeezed some tears out and more pathetically said, "Pleeeease!" He told me very unsympathetically I could beg all I wanted, but it wasn't going to happen. I at least got him to look under my car at the puffy paint lettering and give me his opinion as to what that meant. He had no idea and gave me his business card.

Thanks a bunch, man.

Then...I drove to another lube shop and I explained the issue to the guy and he didn't think it would be any problem. Meanwhile I sat in the waiting area and called the first lube shop and asked them to find the sticker that was on my windshield that they had thrown away that would give me a clue as to who was responsible for making the underside of my car looked like a 1990s cheerleading camp T shirt. They called me back and told me they couldn't find it.

Of course! Because you know that my last oil change was there and are embarrassed that somebody painted a warning in bright yellow puffy paint.

I told them I would be there in a few minutes to come look for it myself and hung up the phone. Finally I hear, "Ford Escape."

Yes!, my oil had been successfully changed.

"Maam. I need to talk to you about your car."

Uh oh.

"We couldn't do the oil change. We just don't have the right equipment. You might want to try Firestone down the street."

Uh huh. Right. Basically you're telling me that my car has been turned into a piece of crap, by some puffy paint psycho.

So then I drove back to the first lube shop, parked my car, and walked toward the building. The obviously annoyed lady motioned me to the garage and said, "Have at it!" referring to my search of the lost windshield sticker. I looked in the first nasty, greasy trash can and it had obviously been emptied. There wasn't a single windshield sticker in there after an entire day of oil changes. Just some cellophane wrapping.

Do they think I'm stupid? Probably.

So I asked one of the greasy men where they might throw away a windshield sticker. One guy obviously knew about the situation and gave me a clue that I wasn't going to find it and told me to bring the car back on Friday and he would check out my car's oil plug. Perhaps he is the puffy paint pscho. Anyway, that is what I will do. But wait...that's not quite all. As I was driving out of the parking lot, my husband called me on the cell phone and to tell me that the other lube shop called our home to let me know that they forgot to put the dipstick back in my car.

@##$%^^$%#$@$#@! What the freak?

Finally after 2 hours of chasing around town I make it to the grocery store and accomplished something (I got 3 jars of Peter Pan Peanut Butter for $0.25 each thanks to my sale and coupon shopping) and then to Walmart to return the two boxes of Huggies Supreme Natural Fit diapers that my inexperienced diaper-buying husband mistakingly bought. I failed to inform him to not buy the supreme diapers. I don't see the point in supreme diapers. Supposedly they
"are shaped to fit more naturally so your baby is really free."

Um...yeah my baby is plenty free, thank you. Do you have any "brick fit" to prevent my baby from climbing on the kitchen table or busting down the baby gate? Now for that I might pay an extra six cents per diaper.

Ok. I feel better now.

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