Tired

I had a rather surreal experience this afternoon. Upon leaving the office, I noticed that one of my tires was rather low on air. So I headed for the closest service station where the lovely little clerks will reinflate my tires at no cost. Putting air in car tires is one of the few things I dislike doing myself due to a nerve-wracking little incident with a rotten tire years ago.

The young man checked all my tires and when he got to the flat one, he tried to inflate it, then stepped back and said he couldn't because there was a hole in it. Drat. I went round to where was and you could actually hear the air escaping from the tire. There must have been a weak spot right around the valve and when he pressed on it with the air hose, it let go.

So, while the car was still driveable, I hightailed it to my lovely neighbourhood tire store, where I have always enjoyed very efficient and friendly service. Until today. (Wrath alert! Don your flak jackets and helmets!)

It was late on Friday afternoon and their parking lot was packed. Only two spots left, both around the side of the building. It didn't look good. I parked my car and proceeded to the reception desk. There was no one at the desk at the time. There was a Gent on the phone in an office and a Limo Driver in with him. Another customer sat in the waiting area. After a moment, another man came through the door that leads to the service bays, walked behind the service desk and more or less glared at me. Not a word did he speak. Not, "Good afternoon, Ma'am, and how may we help you today?" Not, "Do you have an appointment?" Not even, "What!?!" Total silence.

Being the sharp little cookie I am, I quickly realized that this transaction was not going to proceed any further unless I spoke, so I said that I had a tire that was leaking so badly you could hear the air escaping. He still said nothing and just stuck out his hand for the keys. I was so surprised, I handed them over. He stomped back through the door to the service bays and a moment later drove my car into one of the bays. It was immediately raised up on the hoist, the wheel with the offending tire was removed by a mechanic, put on the tire remover thingy, the tire was popped off, something mysterious was done to it, the tire was put back on the wheel, reinflated, the wheel reattached to the car and the hoist lowered, all while I watched through a large window, and during which the Silent Dude returned to the reception desk.

The mechanic opened the door to the reception area. He didn't say anything either, just glared at Silent Dude. Silent Dude then finally spoke, not to me but to Office Gent and all he said was his name. Office Gent went into the service bay, climbed into my car, backed it out of the garage and drove it the 5 feet to the reception area door, turned off the engine, left the driver's door open and stomped back into his office. Still nothing was said to me and by this time I was just curious as to how long this could go on, so I said nothing. And you know what else I was thinking, right? Right. Blog fodder!!!

I looked at my car. I looked at Silent Dude. He ignored me. I looked at my car and contemplated walking out, climbing into it and driving away. I looked at Silent Dude. Limo Driver came out of the private office and said something to Silent Dude. He answered.

I walked over to the reception desk, thinking that perhaps closer proximity would prompt him to speak to me. Nada. I looked at my car. I looked back at him. I was having trouble not laughing at this point. Finally, Silent Dude intuited that I am not a visitor from the planet Telepathia and that he was going to have to speak to me whether he liked it or not. He picked up my invoice and said, "I guess they patched your tire. That'll be $19. 45, please."

I resisted the urge to shout, "It speaks! Halleluiah! It's a miracle!" and instead politely said something about being relieved they were able to patch it, paid my money and left.

What a strange way to do business. And that tire better still be inflated when I check it in the morning.