Is High Blood Pressure Good For The Metabolism?

I consider it good behavior that I managed to hold off calling the car shop until 8:30 this morning when I got to work at 6:30a. Which, of course, is their fault. Because, you know, I don’t have a car. Because THEY have my car. As of right now, they have officially had my car in their possession for 27 hours. When I called, I spoke to “Dennis”* (*names have been changed to protect the innocent. Dennis’ name has not been changed) who said that he was “just walking in” and would give me a call “right back” to let me know if they were going to be able to take a look at my car today or not. I said thank you in a manner that was dripping with alternate meaning; “Today, tomorrow, next week, oh sure you know, whatever. I have no actual need for my car. It doesn’t get me to/fro important places such as work and/or home. No rush, Dennis, you go ahead and take your time. Have another krispy kreme you fat fuck”.

Out of curiosity, what’s your perception of “right back”?

When my mother says she’ll call me “right back” I know that it means she’s probably on a handset rendered to be contraband by the Alvin administration doctrine of 1982 and my phone will likely ring in the time it takes her to put down her knitting needles and/or trot upstairs making train sounds or singing “do do do, do do” to make the handset switch. Unless in the middle of doing so she loses her glasses or forgets what she was doing, then it’s all over for me. Pretty much if my phone doesn’t ring within 90 seconds I know that she has forgotten about me and returned to her knitting. When I call back she’ll say “Oh, Hello! What happened?”.

Unlike my relationship with my Dennis, my mother does sometimes call me back.

Three and one half hours after my original call to Dennis this morning, growing more and more curious as to the fate of my car and my weekend plans, let alone how I was going to get home from work and to the doctor today, I placed another call to Dennis. I was transferred three times before I got him on the line. I was pleasant. I smiled sincerely. I said, “Oh hi, Dennis, this is –“

At which point Dennis cut me off.

Dennis then began yelling.

On my end of the phone I actually looked around the room to see who else he might be talking to. Was this man speaking loudly and condescendingly to me? Was he asking me why he’s getting so many calls that he can’t get his work done? Surely this was some kind of tardy April fool’s prank, right? Surely this purveyor of customer service who had failed to notify me of his intentions towards my prize posession and life in general was not screaming at the very customer he is employed to serve, right??

Wrong.

In the end, compelled by the fact that raising my voice above a whisper in the office renders my every word discernable to every employee in the building (and that I am still on FNG probation) and additionally complicated by the fact that this grease monkey had my prize possession in his slithery yet beastly hands, I agreed to give Dennis $120 for a new car battery. Even though the existing battery is but weeks old, Dennis told me that it won’t hold a charge. This is SHOCKING because THAT IS THE REASON I BROUGHT THE CAR INTO THE SHOP IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Of course, he also said he’d be calling me right back.

*posted by LandLord B --The Great and Thoughful-- for K because work doesn't allow her to post*