Flat

*All Names and DaTes Have Been Changed

Earlier this week while leaving for work, I noticed that one of my tires looked dangerously low--and I did the worst thing ever. I drove on it anyway. Actually, I made P come out and look at it first. He didn't seem too worried about it and said he'd put air in it "later." Because P and I celebrated our 5th anniversary just last week (hooray!) I know that for "later" to happen, I will have to nag him for at least a week until I finally get him by painting a fairly graphic picture of how the tire will pop, I'll skid off the road, land in a ditch out of sight and survive only as long as my half-empty water bottles and unopened McDonald's BBQ packets will allow.

As a side note, you should know that P's idea of car maintenance is suspect. He once let all four tires on our old Corolla blow out individually because "it didn't make sense" to replace all 4 at the same time. Seriously. Who does that? He even had to change one in the Hocking Hills during a snowstorm while wearing a suit. For the record, I did not feel sorry for him. I just hoped it knocked some sense into him. To date, no such luck.

Back to my story. I made it to work, but at lunchtime noticed that the tire was almost completely flat. So I drove it to a tire place close to my work to see if they could look at it for me. I walked inside and was greeted by a gentleman who asked if I had an appointment. Our conversation went something like this:

Him: "Do you have an appointment?"

Me (with a big smile, because I almost always smile when I greet people):
"No, I have a flat and was wondering if you could check it out for me."

Him: "We're booked pretty solid until 5 today."

Me: "Okay?"

Him: "I suppose I could see if we could fit it in, but I don't know. We're booked until 5."

Me: "Okaaaayyyy. Can I leave it and you can just get to it if you can?"

Him: "We are just absolutely booked until 5."

Me: No words, just looking around in confusion for someone else who might be able to decipher this whole booked until 5 code. At that moment, another employee walked in.

Him #1: "Aren't we just absolutely booked from now until 5?"

Him #2: At first, no words, just the expression of wide eyes, an exaggerated breath of air and raised eyebrows. You know the look. "We are booked until 5."

Me: "Okaaaayyyy. So should I take it somewhere else?"

Him #2: "Well, it would have helped if you would have had an appointment."

Enough. I never do this, but...

Me, rather loudly: "I know. But I didn't plan on getting a flat tire today. I would have loved to make an appointment if I had known though. Sorry!"

I think I might have thrown my arms up in the air too. Really, my exasperation was a result of not being told my options. It's fine if you are booked solid until 5, but quit telling me that and let's move on to the next step. Do I leave my keys and come back later? Should I make an appointment for the first open slot at 5? Should I go somewhere else? Let's move on to the problem solving portion of the conversation!

To my surprise and embarrassment, it worked.

Him #2: "It's just with the holidays, people are traveling a lot so they're bringing in their cars for work. We're just really busy."

Me: "That's fine, just tell me what I should do. Should I take it somewhere else?"

Him #2: "Can you leave the keys here and come back later? We'll call you when it's done."

I handed over the keys and got a ride back to work. A few hours later, I called to check on the progress. They were just getting it into the garage, but by the time I got there it would probably be ready. I arrived, waited around for a bit, then was handed my keys and told I was ready to go. I followed Him #2 out to the cash register, but he waived me away.

Him #2: "Nope. This one's on me."

Me: "Thank you, but no. I'm going to pay."

Him #2: "No, no. Seriously. It's been taken care of."

Me: "I'm going to pay."

Him #2: "No, just think of us when you need new tires."

I shrugged my shoulders, said thanks one more time and left. It felt weird though. Did he waive my payment because I complained? Do complainers get more attention? Hmm. Squeaky wheel gets the grease.

I've often heard my mother, a middle school teacher, lament how her trouble makers sometimes get more of her attention than her well-behaved students. It bothers her quite a bit because, well, it's not fair. I suppose it's a little different because these kids aren't complaining, they're just acting out. But I also suppose, whether they realize it or not, they know that when they're bad, they get more attention. So they continue to be bad.

And it's the same with complainers. I've seen complainers in action in stores, restaurants (although the complainer is risking a little something extra in their food), at the airport, at work. Everywhere. What makes me sick is that the complainer most likely gets his/her way, even if it's ridiculous. I've been in a group with a complainer and when the complaining starts, I want to bolt for the nearest exit.

Bottom line: I don't want to be a complainer! I want to live in a world where being nice gets you good service. Where patience and a smile open doors (and fix flat tires). But, but...I just got free car service because I was rude. Is this really the world we live in? Where people respond more to rudeness than kindness? Yuck! For me, if paying meant erasing my tiny outburst, I would have paid double. So I'm sticking with kindness. How about you?

Pickles and Clams, Pickles and Clams!

I have a stalker. Thankfully, I got a good look at her the other day: about 5'7", brown hair, pasty white skin, green eyes and freakishly small hands. Socially awkward, to say the least. She's married, lives in small neighborhood and has a dog. Hey, wait...she sounds familiar.

That's right, I'm my own stalker.

Earlier this year I added an application to this blog called FEEDJIT. It provides a live time and date stamp, and tracks where readers come from. Sounds neat, huh? Well, I've become a little obsessed.

I mean, how cool is it that I can see what people query when they click here from Google? Let me tell you, it's very cool. So cool that I started checking my blog every few hours to see if I had gotten any new visitors from far away places. FEEDJIT, I was smitten.

But then I started to see a trend: every single person who arrived here from Google searched either Pickles Cause Nightmares or Duck for the Oyster Dive for the Clam. And as far as I can tell, none of them have been back.

So. This is what you want? Pickles and clams? Fine. The Internet has a wealth of information and I'm confident I can give you the fix you need. In fact, I'll start today.

Sometimes Nothing Picklicious Fun Fact #1:
Americans consume more than 9 pounds of pickles per person annually. (Say that five times fast.)

Sometimes Nothing Clammy Hands Naked Truth Numero Uno:
The giant clam gets only one chance to find a nice home. Once it fastens itself to a spot on a reef, there it sits for the rest of its life. (Pick yourself a winner!)

Bathroom Lottery

In 2006, a contractor in Cleveland found nearly $180,000 behind a bathroom wall in the house of a former high school classmate who had hired him for a home improvement project. According to labeling on one of the envelopes, the money belonged to a wealthy businessman who lived in the home during the Great Depression. Together, the contractor and home owner inspected the rare bills and took pictures of the find.

Normally I love stories like this. However, this one probably turned sour immediately after the last picture was taken. The contractor most likely hung around, waiting for an offer. The home owner most likely packed up the money, pretending like it didn't exist. Eventually, the home owner offered 10%, but the contractor wanted 40%. As they went back and forth, The Plain Dealer somehow picked up the story and the descendants of the businessman stepped forward and sued for a right to the money. All 21 of them.

To see how it all worked out, click here. I'm interested to see what you think: did the contractor have a right to the money? Was 10% a fair offer? If you were the contractor, would you have pocketed the money or reported it?

Hmm. Greed makes people do funny things.

Successful Surprise Party - Happy 30th P!

 

There was a keg. There was karaoke. I give you this picture.

After we got home and were getting ready for bed, I asked P if he had a good time.

"Yes," he said. "It was a fun good time."

Which I think could be the Midwest's answer to Boston's "wicked good." I'm now saying it as much as possible. I don't think P remembers coining this new phrase, but I'm rolling with it anyway.

The Tribe Has Spoken...

...and 8 of you don't want to hear Christmas music until Thanksgiving. The last voter doesn't even want to hear it until Christmas Eve. So cool it until late November, Delilah!

As a side note, I was pleased as punch to see that 9 of you took the survey. So close to double digits I can't stand it!

By Special Request

This past Friday, October 31, while on hold with a doctor's office, I heard it for the first time this year: Christmas music. Just now I checked my cell phone and had a message from my brother saying he had great blog material for me. He had just come from Wal-Mart, where he had been treated to Silent Night and other Christmas tunes playing on the in-store stereo system. Apparently Halloween is the new Thanksgiving.

I'm torn because I really do love the holiday season. I love the traditions we do to prepare for the upcoming season: watching It's a Wonderful Life, Elf and The Bishop's Wife (the original, NOT the Whitney Houston disaster), pulling out the Kitchen Aid mixer my grandma gave me for my wedding and making all sorts of Christmas cookies, decorating the front of the house with lights, wreaths and ribbons, shopping for special gifts (Anti-Monkey Butt Powder) and of course, listening to Christmas music. It really sets the mood for the season. But it's supposed to be 70-degrees here for the next five days, so it's NOT the season.

Of course, this theory doesn't really matter for people like my brother who live in areas of the country where it's 70-degrees most of the "winter." So I guess my argument is really that it's just flat out ridiculous to start Christmas music on October 31. Why can't we slow down, enjoy all the holidays (yes, Halloween is a holiday in this household) and not rush through everything?

What do you think? Take my new poll to the right--I'm interested to see the results of this one! Feliz Navidad...