Corporate Peon: Gah.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


My brakes have been grinding lately. At first it was only when I used them, which was close to never, right? But then it became an all the time noise. Pleasant to the ear, of course. Not at all embarrassing.

So after begging a favor from BBB (not like I had to beg, he's a pretty giving guy) I called up the local CarX to make an appointment. Now CarX isn't great, as far as places go, but I figured it would be cheaper than the dealership. Not to mention, quite a bit more convenient in terms of location.

So, around 11:30 today, BBB follows me to the big yellow sign. Drop the car off, return to the office, where we have lunch (we each brought our lunches today, miracle of all miracles).

Louis gives me a call at 1:30 with a $600 quote.

Now, my car is mayyyyyyybe worth $600. On a good day. To a blind person. Who doesn't have the car inspected. But, I mean, you can't drive much without brakes, right? It's kind of frowned upon by the bastards who make the rules, right? Fine. $600 it is.

About 10 minutes later, BBB and R, the cute Russian dude we work with, storm me in my cube. R says no no no, why didn't you call me? I know a guy who owns a repair shop, he's known me since I was 3, he'll cut you a deal. Call CarX back and tell them to halt.

So I do. Louis sounds a little surprised, but that's okay. R calls his guy and has a conversation in Russian. Except for the words drum, shoes, rear, front, and pads. I guess there's no easy translation.

R hangs up and quotes me $400. Done.

BBB, however, tells me that I should just leave my car there for good and buy something new. Why am I so adverse to a new car? What is it going to take? My car is not safe to drive! He tells R it's held together with chicken wire and foil.

I get pissy. My car is far from perfect, but the only thing falling off of it is a little paint. It's 11 years old with over 150,000 miles on it. What the fuck do you expect? Besides, the car is completely safe. It may not be 100% mechanically sound, but it's far from the deathtrap he makes it out to be. Lay the fuck off.

I know he means well. And I know he's worried about me, and for me, and that's appreciated. And I know he's been a huge help in showing me cars, taking me around, giving me advice. But...lay the fuck off! When I find a car I like...then, and ONLY THEN, will I buy it!

It's now 2:30. R and I finish up at work; he and BBB offer me a ride in tomorrow morning. Since BBB actually gets in to work at an established time (R told me he would be there between 6 and 10am), BBB will call me when he leaves his place tomorrow morning and pick me up. Now I feel bad for being pissy.

R drives me back up to the big yellow sign, 10 minutes north of work, where I rescue my girl. I then follow him about 15 minutes south of work, to his friend's shop. After another conversation in Russian, we leave the car and R drives me home.

Sigh. I fucking hate this. It seems everyone at the office knows I am in need of a car, though some apparently feel it's an urgent need. I'm home-bound tonight, otherwise I would be out test driving. I looked this past weekend with dad, but one of the cars I wanted to try was only in stick, which I don't drive, and another that I wanted wasn't there. At all. Stupid dealership. It's really down to one or the other of those two. Since I haven't liked or been comfortable of any of the other 2-door, slightly sporty, within my price-range cars out there.

Have I mentioned that I fucking hate this? I will say, though, that I'm very appreciative I work in a place where I can leave when I need to without grief.

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