James has less tact than me, I think
We have an engine in from a carpet-cleaning company. The van it was taken out of has been sitting behind our gate since Thursday. The parts were supposed to be overnighted for it- because that's thousands of dollars worth of work they can't do while the engine is being repaired. Half the order got back-ordered. i.e., the guys we buy the stuff from lied when they said they had everything. So they drop-shipped from the factory when we called the assholes on it, and our mechanic has spent most of today fixing the engine. The real bitch isn't fixing the engine, it's taking it out and putting it back into the machine it goes in. (The reason why the van has stayed here while waiting for parts. Waste of time to take it and drop it back off when the parts finally do come in.) That's three hours a piece. Want to know how the mechanic described the job?
"It's like masturbating with a cheese grater. Slightly amusing, but mostly painful." (I can see you guys flinching from here.)
I thanked him for that lovely imagery and whined about corrupting virgin ears.
And he says, "Shit, how long have you been working here? What virgin ears?"
Which is true, I suppose, but my blush-complex doesn't like mixed company when such stuff is said. Even less so when he repeats this to my father when he comes in to ice his hand (which apparently was attacked by the engine while being put back in).
"It's like masturbating with a cheese grater. Slightly amusing, but mostly painful." (I can see you guys flinching from here.)
I thanked him for that lovely imagery and whined about corrupting virgin ears.
And he says, "Shit, how long have you been working here? What virgin ears?"
Which is true, I suppose, but my blush-complex doesn't like mixed company when such stuff is said. Even less so when he repeats this to my father when he comes in to ice his hand (which apparently was attacked by the engine while being put back in).