A bit more than a year ago, I wrote about my experience in the Service Department of my automobile dealer. I had occasion to be there again today.
I have been there once or twice since my last post, but I thought that, given that a year has passed since I had written about the experience, I would try to objectively determine whether anything has changed. Accordingly, I sat with a pad on my lap recording the goings-on in the place, while I waited for the Service Guy to release me and my car from the clutches of the Service Department.
I wondered then, as I wonder now, whether this chicken scratch that covers more than a few pages could be organized, massaged, and coaxed into becoming a coherent post, with something resembling a central theme.
I’ve decided that it is too late tonight to do that, and I am way too tired to do anything more than share with you the notes I jotted down while held captive in the Service Department waiting room. Not surprisingly, I have omitted the scribblings that I cannot read now. I have also edited out some of the completely incoherent ravings, many of which contain the F-Bomb.
So, without further ado, here is a peek into Jimbo’s notes:
Damn, no seats by the coffee table. The only seat in the room not next to a Vulgarian is by the stairs that lead into the Service Area. I hate the seat, but it is better than sitting next to someone who might smell like pee. What will I do with my coffee? I’ll have to set it on the floor. (The room has a coffee maker, but I brought my own coffee.) Pain in my ass.
Shit!! The television is on. Do they ever turn that thing off?
The ABC Network version of the “Today Show” is ending. Apparently everyone in the audience got a cupcake. By the cheering and carrying-on of the “adults” in the audience, one would think that each of them had been given a couple thousand bucks instead of a farookin cupcake. God how I hate this place.
“Regis and Kelly” came on the TV. The studio audience is hysterical with love for Regis and Kelly. It looks to me like most of the women in the audience would happily carry Regis’s child. Regis could pass gas and the audience would howl with laughter and applaud wildly. Clearly, the studio audience had been properly “warmed up” before the show. I’ve been to a live TV show before, and the audience warm-up is about as ugly as the process of turning pigs into sausage.
Regis holds up badly shot 35mm photos that someone took of him during his weekend visit to Texas. These are seriously shitty pictures. Why the hell is the audience going crazy with joy over each of them? Damn, I forgot; they had been “warmed up.”
Kelly Ripa? She can’t possibly be as stupid as she appears to be, can she? She interrupts Regis’s squawking his multi-volume drivel with inane comments, after each of which she lunges toward the camera/audience and smiles. I’ve decided that there is no way she could be that stupid and manage to get to where she is on television. I figure that she is just real bad at looking real stupid.
Uh-oh … New person in the waiting room. A twenty-something Dizzball just walked in and plopped down in the seat closest to the TV. She is howling out loud with laughter at Regis and Kelly. Did this person just escape from some kind of custody?
Regis’s and Kelly’s guest is Liam Neeson. [Audience applauds as if the guest were Jesus himself]. Liam just finished some movie where he had to do sword fights. Liam is going to show Regis and Kelly how to properly fight with a broad sword. Maybe lightening will strike this place and put an end to all this.
During the sword fighting lessons (first Kelly, then Regis) the “band” played the Saber Dance as background music. [The audience is beside itself with joy.] After it was over, Kelly remarked, “We’re fighting with swords and the band is playing ‘Clown Music’”? Hold it!! Did I question whether Kelly is as stupid as she looks? I take it back. She is that stupid and then some. It was the Saber Dance, for Chrissake! Get it? Sword fighting?… Saber Dance? ”Clown Music???” ..Dumbshit.
Dizzball decides that she has to make a cell phone call. It begins with, “How ya doin? … Are you busy? I just wanted to say ‘Hey.’ You wanna call me back”? Call her back?? Farookin’ shoot me now.
Dizzball, “breaking the seal” with her phone call causes two other people in the waiting room to make telephone calls and share their conversations with the rest of us. I wish I had a cell phone death ray.
After about five minutes of personal prattle, Dizzball finally says, “Good bye.”
She makes another call! I’d rather listen to Regis (even Kelly) than this idiot.
I head to the men’s room, then go outside (yes, OUTSIDE) to check my voice mails. I had a few. When I returned to the waiting room Dizzball was still on the phone.
She was still talking on the phone when “The Tony Danza Show” came on. Tony Danza, the guy from Taxi? You gotta be shitting me. People actually stop what they’re doing during the day to watch Tony Farookin’ Danza? Memo to the Department of Homeland Security: Terrorists don’t have to risk getting caught with dirty bombs and the like. They can sit back and wait, knowing that daytime television will ultimately turn the brains of millions of Americans into soft, smelly shit.
Dizzball asks if anyone would mind if she changed the channel. This babe must a daytime television gunslinger. No one objects, so she turns on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show.” Ellen dances into the audience. The audience is dancing, woo-hooing and clapping to the music (on the upbeats as most white people do). Dizzball is loving it, swaying to the music and laughing out loud. Can this woman dress herself?
Ellen into commercial…Dizzball makes another call.
GET ME OUTA HERE!!
A large box of Dunkin’ Donuts is brought into the waiting room. A really, really, REALLY overweight lady is making a cup of tea and looking at the donuts. Will she take one? I know damned well she wants one. I can see the donut lust in her eyes, but I can also see the damage that past donuts have done to her. I’m betting she takes one.
Jimbo loses; she doesn’t take a donut. Who is she bullshitting? I’ll bet if she were alone, she eat the damned dozen of them. It takes one to know one.
Dizzball hangs up. Gott sei dank!
Service Guy appears and has to have a word with Dizzball. Forget about privacy. We can all hear what the Service Guy says. He tells her that they had to install a new “solenoid pack” in her transmission. Dizzball approves. Service Guy leaves the waiting room.
Dizzball makes yet another call. I could happily shove the phone up her ass. Presumably she is calling someone to bullshit “solenoid packages.”
Ellen has some audience members on stage to use the Jacuzzi. Those not picked for the Jacuzzi get a free DVD of “Meet the Fockers.” The audience is out of control with glee.
Dizzball is now describing the Ellen Show to the person on the other end of the phone conversation. If I were to beat this woman senseless with the phone, would a jury convict me?
Service Guy enters the room and tells me my car is ready.
I could have kissed his feet.
End of notes.