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This is off topic, but I have to get it off my chest. What's the deal with all the applications lately that want to put an icon in the tray and leave it there, even after I've closed the application?! The new version of Winamp did it, I just downloaded NeoPlanet, to see what it looked like and it did it... Geez! I want the application to open when I ask it to, and close when I ask it to. NEXT!!

All right. Back on topic (nominally). Yesterday, I'd guess around 2:30PM or so, the mechanic shop finally called. The list of things they found that weren't working went something like this: "Your left turn signal isn't flashing, your left brake light is out, your tag lights are out, your windshield wiper blades need to be replaced, and your passenger-side mirror is just GONE!"

Can you say nickel and dime?

I knew about the turn signal. For the past couple weeks, I've been just sort of manually flashing the turn signal whenever I turned left. I knew about the windshield wipers. I'd even asked for them to put a new pair on (yes, I know they probably overcharge for that sort of thing. I don't care. I don't want to be bothered to do it myself). The tag lights were new. Liz had mentioned to me the day before that she'd noticed the brake light was out, so that wasn't a surprise either. I knew the mirror was gone, too. It was gone when I bought it, over 3 years ago. They'd never bothered me about it when I got the car inspected. Never! I argued with the woman about it, and she gave me some choices. I could have them take the whole mirror housing off that side of the van, I could have them call the dealership to find out how much a mirror would cost and how long it'd take the dealership to get it into town, or I could go to the auto parts store and get myself a new mirror.

I still can't believe they put up such a fuss about this. They never even blinked at it before, and now they're going to reject my inspection because of it?! Tell her to call the dealership and give me a call with the information, please.

After about half an hour, she calls back, and tells me that it'll cost $35, and the dealership will have the mirror in stock in about a week. I told her I'd buy a mirror at the auto parts store. She was ready for this, and said the mechanic had a change of heart, and while he'd really really like me to get a mirror on that side, he wouldn't fail my inspection because of it. How nice of him. However, they had found another light out. Front left upper light, or something. Fine. Fix it. It's a fucking bulb. Oh, and it's not an inspection-related thing, but I'm missing the oil cap, and there's oil all over my engine. Wonderful. How much for a new oil cap? $4.71? Splurge me.

The hook to all of this is, of course, if replacing the bulbs doesn't make the turn signal start flashing, then they're going to have to start crawling through the electrical system, looking for whatever should be making it flash. Joy. I tell them to fix it, and they say it should be ready by 5, unless problems crop up. Fine. Fix it.

At about 4:30, I call over to make sure it's done before I head over. After about ten minutes on hold, they tell me, yes, it's done, and I can pick it up.

So, Liz picks me up from work (Wonderful! She's wonderful!!), we pick up subs for that night, and go to the mechanic. "Do you want me to stick around and wait for you, to make sure they're really done with the car, or should I just go home?" she asked. She'd been quietly complaining of a headache, and I could see hyperactive children in the lobby of the mechanics. "Just go home, sweetie. I'll be there in a bit."

She drove off, and I had no idea I'd just told a lie.

I walk into the lobby, and it's rampant chaos. There's a kid on the floor playing in a tire, another running around bonking at a ball larger than her head, the lobby is being redone, so there are wires and counters and boxes of wires and crap everywhere, and the TV is running, and the people running the registers look like it's been this way for a while. While I'm standing in line, the woman behind me got a call on her cell phone that went something like this: "Hello? I'm at the-- No, I'm fine. I'm at the-- I'm fine. I'm at the Merchants. Well, I thought about going down to the Jiffy Lube in Newport News, but I thought this would be faster! I've been here since 3!"

What do think would be faster, a store that specializes in quick oil changes & lube jobs, or a store that also does brakes, tires, electrical problems, state inspections, etc. etc.? Me, too. This woman hadn't thought of that.

The people in front of me weren't much better. When I dropped the car off in the morning, I was behind a woman who couldn't remember her license plate when the guy asked her for it. Now, this isn't that bad. I can barely remember Liz's plate, and I remember mine because I made myself memorize it. But this woman had a vanity plate!! Geez!

Anyway, in the evening I was behind The Schmoozer and The Loser. The Schmoozer was leaning waaaay over the desk to sort of flirt with the girl behind the counter, make small talk with her, make her laugh, and beam a toothsome smile her way. He finished his little act, collected his receipt, and started to walk away when the girl hailed him down, saying, "Sir, how would you like to pay for this?" The Schmoozer tripped back to the counter, mumbled some sort of apology, and began fumbling for his wallet. Heh.

The Loser was even better. Nice leather loafers. Dockers pants. And a dirty, nasty, NASCAR T-shirt. His spiel went something like "I bought a battery here about two years, maybe somewhat less than two years, anyway, about two years ago, and this morning I got in my truck, and it wouldn't start, and I got it started and went to work, but then it wouldn't start again this afternoon, and I've got it running out in the parking lot 'cause if I turn it off it'll stop running and anyway, I want you to fix it.".

The guy behind the counter sighed. "Name?"

"Smith. Bryan Smith. Or maybe it's under my grandmother's name, Susan. Or maybe George. Could be George. Can you also try Debbie?" On top of this, the guy handling the register that The Loser was on also got a customer phone call, and was now trying to diagnose this person's problem over the phone, look up about eight names in the computer, and deal with The Loser, apparently the driver of the only vehicle the Smith clan had, all in their own names.

I finally got to the register, and said to the girl, "Hi, my name's Matt Brooks, and I brought my van in for a state inspection this morning, and some other work, too." Her eyes went a little wide and I knew I was fucked. She went and got the folder out of the rack, came back to the register and said to me, sotto voce,

"I haven't even typed any of this into the computer yet, so I'm going to go into the back office and do that right now." Great. Fine. It gives me some extra time to write the basic crap on my check without feeling like I'm holding up the line too much. Date, location, might as well put my phone number on here, too.... wait wait wait...

After about 15 minutes she comes out of the back room. "That'll be $180.33," and she starts typing stuff into the computer. It's wrong. I know it's wrong. But, I decide to play nice and wait for the receipt. I write my check, hand it over, get the receipt which I have to sign, and start looking it over, big ticket items first. There's a ridiculously expensive electrical labor charge, but I can figure out where that comes from. And then there's a line that says something like:

Gran Pro TT Am FM 2544 -- $75

Just as I start to ask what that is, the girl, who also has a dubious expression on her face says, "Did we sell you a tire?" Nope. No, you did not.

So she redoes the bill, figuring out that instead of punching in the code for a bulb, she punched in a tire. Small difference. She also explains that when they replaced 2 of the bulbs, the other 2 started working, and the turn signal started flashing, and it turns out I didn't have any tag lights because there aren't sockets for tag lights on the van. Much better. And then I got back my original check, gave the girl the new one, and ran out of the store as fast as my widdle legs would carry me.

I just can't wait until I have to go back!