(no subject)
This morning I took my car to a local mechanic to get the fan belt changed. They told me they open the shop at 8am, and I should come in then if I want to get in and out quickly. Now, the sign on the shop says they open at 7:30, but hey, who's gonna complain about an extra half-hour of sleep, right?
So I show up at 8:05 and no one is there. So I wait. and wait. at 8:35 both of the guys who work at the shop pull in together. They don't apologize for being late. I ask them if they ordered the belt for my car. One guy looks at the other guy and says, "uh, you did that right?" The second mechanic pauses and says yeah, he did.
"So has it arrived?" I ask, a paragon of patience at this point.
Mechanic Two smiles and says, "No, but it should be here around 9am.
I say, "Well, it's almost 9 now, are you sure you're going to get it this morning? I'd rather not leave my car here all day."
"I thought you said you live near here," he responds.
And yes, I do live about a 15 minute walk away from the shop. NOT THE POINT. I don't want these idiots to hang onto my car all freakin' day and not fix it. I have a life, things that need to get done.
Mechanic Two says, "Did we quote you the price?"
"Yeah, you said it would be $108, but you didn't say if that included labor," I reply.
Mechanic One pipes up, "Oh well, you should know better than to pay $108 just for a belt." Then Mechanic One looks at Mechanic Two and smirks.
I should know better. Why should I know better? I'm not the fucking mechanic. I can tell you how much it costs if a timing chain goes, if you need to replace a rotor, for an oil change, tune up, inspection, brakes, steering column, and some exhaust stuff. However, all of those repairs were on a pontiac. I've never had to replace a fan belt, and I've never had to replace a part on my Suzuki before. I knew that it was the fan belt that needed to be replaced from identifying the noise and asking around.
I hate getting the dumb girl routine from mechanics. Yes, I'm a girl, and I'm young. I'm not retarded. I just didn't grow up with a father in the house, much less one who piddled with cars on Saturday afternoons. And my mom was so busy trying to raise four kids by herself that she didn't have time to figure out how to change the oil on a Sunday afternoon.
I realize that I'm probably getting screwed, but I need the car fixed, quickly.
Assholes. I hope the hood of my car slams shut on his hands and he breaks all his mechanic fingers. How's that for a Peace and Conflict Resolution student!
So I show up at 8:05 and no one is there. So I wait. and wait. at 8:35 both of the guys who work at the shop pull in together. They don't apologize for being late. I ask them if they ordered the belt for my car. One guy looks at the other guy and says, "uh, you did that right?" The second mechanic pauses and says yeah, he did.
"So has it arrived?" I ask, a paragon of patience at this point.
Mechanic Two smiles and says, "No, but it should be here around 9am.
I say, "Well, it's almost 9 now, are you sure you're going to get it this morning? I'd rather not leave my car here all day."
"I thought you said you live near here," he responds.
And yes, I do live about a 15 minute walk away from the shop. NOT THE POINT. I don't want these idiots to hang onto my car all freakin' day and not fix it. I have a life, things that need to get done.
Mechanic Two says, "Did we quote you the price?"
"Yeah, you said it would be $108, but you didn't say if that included labor," I reply.
Mechanic One pipes up, "Oh well, you should know better than to pay $108 just for a belt." Then Mechanic One looks at Mechanic Two and smirks.
I should know better. Why should I know better? I'm not the fucking mechanic. I can tell you how much it costs if a timing chain goes, if you need to replace a rotor, for an oil change, tune up, inspection, brakes, steering column, and some exhaust stuff. However, all of those repairs were on a pontiac. I've never had to replace a fan belt, and I've never had to replace a part on my Suzuki before. I knew that it was the fan belt that needed to be replaced from identifying the noise and asking around.
I hate getting the dumb girl routine from mechanics. Yes, I'm a girl, and I'm young. I'm not retarded. I just didn't grow up with a father in the house, much less one who piddled with cars on Saturday afternoons. And my mom was so busy trying to raise four kids by herself that she didn't have time to figure out how to change the oil on a Sunday afternoon.
I realize that I'm probably getting screwed, but I need the car fixed, quickly.
Assholes. I hope the hood of my car slams shut on his hands and he breaks all his mechanic fingers. How's that for a Peace and Conflict Resolution student!