My last call (as of 10:15 Friday morning when I’m writing this) was from my Toyota guy. Why is he calling, I wondered, when I’m sitting right here in the waiting room drinking their coffee? But he said to come out to his “office,” so I did like a good little customer. He told me my filters were dirty and also they wanted to add a magic potion to my fuel. Naturally, these were not on my plan. I agreed because what do I know? Nothing! They know I know nothing, which makes it a great relationship.
What’s funny is that I used to yell at my father for doing this. Omg, old senile person, I fumed at him! (In nicer words.) Why go to the dealer rip-off service? Shop around! But he insisted he was comfortable at the dealer and didn’t mind paying a little more. Well, since then, my daughters got ripped off at other places, and by the time I got my new Corolla in 2016, what did I do? Took it right to the dealer for service even after the warranty was done ~ I bought another warranty, hah.
My ex-husband said never ever ever buy extended warranties, but you know what? He’s not the boss of me anymore, pffft! 😛
I was going to write about last call at a bar, back in Chicago in 1983, when I was in love with Mark (that asshole) and we danced to a Lionel Ritchie song and then he took another girl on a camping trip, but then I remembered that 1983 was a loooooooong time ago and my car is more interesting.
Image from Shelley Krupa.
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