Comstock Chronicles: Valvoline
what I may do one day
I went to get my oil changed at Valvoline the other day. The place was fairly busy, but I chose the fast lane, and much to the other drivers’ envy, I got in first. The manager welcomed me and asked the usual questions: had I been there before, was I there for an oil change, how many miles were on my car, could he open my door to scan the car’s barcode, etc.
Then he walked out in front of my car and began the usual series of instructions in rapid succession. You know how it goes. “Headlights!” and I’m supposed to turn on my headlights. “Right turn signal!” “Left turn signal!” “High beams!” “Brakes!”
This procedure riles me up for several reasons. One, because he’s shouting at me; two, because he’s ordering me around; three, because I have no way of communicating back to him unless I shout—”What did you say?” “Could you go a little slower?” “Give me a second,” and four, because he goes so fast. I think he was going particularly fast this time because the place was busy. I have to fight the urge to snap back at him, “You can’t make me!” or to roll up all my windows and make hand gestures indicating that I can’t hear him. Sheesh! I’m there for an oil change, not to get my lights tested. Someone barking orders at me triggers all my defenses.
Once, in the not-so-distant past, I accidentally turned on my windshield wipers instead of my turn signal. This time, I turned my headlights to “auto” instead of “on", and the guy walked over to my window and fixed it for me like I was a sixteen-year-old newbie and had never driven before.
Maybe it’s a money-making ploy. Get the customer feeling insecure about her car knowledge and then recommend a transmission flush, a tire rotation, and a new air filter. She won’t be able to resist.
One day, when I’m older and more feisty, I’m going to honk loudly at the guy when he shouts, “High beams!” And when he shouts, “Brakes,” I’m going to rev the engine so loudly, he’ll leap to the side to avoid getting run over.
Such musings provide me with a great amount of satisfaction. In the meantime, this is a reminder to speak gently to my children, unless of course, they have climbed into the driver’s seat of my car while I’m pumping gas and unexpectedly honked the horn at me. Then they’re in for it.
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So old people are feisty?? I like that better than grouchy and mean. I wouldn't call you old by any means, but I think that you are a little feisty already.