This week has not only given me an opportunity for a “Shit people leave in their cars” post, but now I get to do one on the things I have to hear.
Such a bad day. Such a bad week, filled with complex jobs, impatient people, one condescending, verbally abusive, complete asshole customer already, parts delays, and cars that get worse the farther we get into them. I’ll apologize now for the profanity, but I know no other way to express my anger currently.
Then, Mr. I’m from facking Bahston facking Vahlvo Ax-C-70 comes in. We’ve seen him before, and I’ve always disliked talking to him because he just sort of grates on me the wrong way. Today, that feeling was justified, as follows: His XC70 needs tires because he’s ignored the destroyed front control arm bushings we told him about months ago. He asks if he can put the 2 good tires on the front and get two new ones. I explain why he can’t. He then takes the severe mechanical consequences of running differently sized tires or the factory spare and equates it with cops shooting black people as a consequence “becaahs theyah always stealin’ shit”. Inexplicably and unprovoked, he extrapolates on this as I stare wide eyed. He then asks me what I think. I disagree, as politely and professionally as possible as I try to get him out the damn door, because this is goddamn soul-crushing front counter customer service and I can’t be on the news for strangling someone, but fuck me if the guy doesn’t need to be hit with his own car, preferably by a black kid in a hoodie. I wish he had gotten two new tires and blown up his diffs, he fucking well deserves it.
I’m reminded of the Frank Zappa line, “You know people, I’m not black, but there’s a whole lotsa times I wish I could say I’m not white.”
I cannot wait for this week to end. And I want a new job.