I tried really hard today to be as productive as my frustration and opatience would allow me to be. After almost one month of driving around with a bent axel and arm, screwed up suspension, tires ready to explode (and one did explode on me while I was driving in stank-ass Beverly Hills this past Sunday), it was time to take my car to the shop. I had previously received an estimate of $960 for all repairs, including labor (the minimum rate/hr is something like $130 here in LA!!!). When I called the mechanics yesterday they told me if I brought my car in by 6PM the job would be done before the shop closed. When I went in at 6PM the cost of repairs went from $960 to $450. Good. Great. Too Great!….to be true.
After 10 minutes of hanging around the shop, I was told, the job would in fact not be done that night, but tomorrow. “I’d say 10am but definitely by noon”. Since I had no way of getting to work, I had to stay home until my car was fixed, and immediately travel to the nutrition class I had to teach at the clinic at 4pm. Of course, that didn’t happen either. Noon turned into 2, 2 into 3, 3 into 5:30, and when I finally went to pick up my car (after having to ask my supervisor to cover MY class), the mechanic working the desk said, “Oh yea, I spoke to you earlier, right? You were the guy who harassed me on the phone.” ***errrrr*** smell of burning rubber*** I could not believe that even though I was more than inconvenienced and decided to very politely yet assertively express my dissatisfaction with my service, that this mechanic could say I was harassed them. The thought was beyond me.
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Today’s unexpected day off did however give me a little time to reconnect with one of my best friends from high school. It was so interesting to listen to what she was doing now and to think about just how much has actually changed for her in the past 3 years or so. Trying to even think about the last time we saw each other, made me also realize just how much I changed. When I was younger, I always wondered how one exactly transitioned into adulthood. Was there some test one had to take to be certified an “adult”? Did one have to learn a special life lesson? Does one really NEED to take responsibility for their actions and have “adult-like” characteristics? Or is it simply just age and/or your physical appearance the thing which really makes you one, and because you look different people treat you different, and because people treat you different you perceive yourself in a different way? ---Random Thoughts