Okay, so a few months ago my car begins acting up and overheating. I call my mom to ask for advice and she tells me about this guy that will apparently come to your house and fix your car in your driveway, or in my case, my apartment complex parking lot. Fantastic! I was so glad I wouldn’t have to tow my car that I called him right away. I should have known the universe wouldn’t make a fairly major car repair on a vehicle I was going to sell in a few months an easy thing.
The next day I woke up and ran excitedly to my car. This guy was going to come fix my car at my apartment! How awesome is that? I walked up to my car and found it covered, and I mean COVERED in bird shit. My car, which is normally a deep blue color, was covered in so much shit it looked like a gallon can of white paint had been poured over it from a high dive. Well, this guy obviously is not going to want to touch my car if it is covered in shit and I don’t have time to wash it before he gets there. I figure the next best thing is to pop the hood myself so he doesn’t have to touch it to look inside to see what needs to be fixed.
He shows up and parks a brand new SUV a few spots down and gets out looking over my car with distain.
“I’m sorry, I know it is covered in poo. I didn’t have time to wash it before you got here. I popped the hood for you though!” I say in a chipper tone, hoping that he will look past the feces and fix my car.
“That’s okay. Tell me what is wrong with your car.” He says, looking under the hood, occasionally poking at something or spinning a fan blade.
“Well, it has been overheating while at an idle. When I pull up to a light or a stop sign it starts to crawl into the red and I have to turn on my heater.” I tell him, adding as much detail as possible to help him properly diagnose my poor 10 year old car.
“Hmm. Start the car for me.” He says. So I dutifully get in and start the car. I rev the engine for him and turn on the heater and the air conditioner alternately so he can see how that effects things.
“Looks like this fan here is broken.” He says, pointing at a fan on the right side of the engine. He told me it’s technical name but I forget what it was he called this particular car part. “If you want me to fix it I will have to take out this other fan, slide this over, put in a new fan, and put it all back again. That would take about 3 hours or so.”
“Great! How much would that cost?”
“Let me make a few calls and see who has this part in stock.” He gets out his cell phone and walks around a little, calling a few different places. He comes back and announces, “Well, for 3 hours labor and the fan itself, you are looking at somewhere between $200 and $350 dollars.”
“That is just fine. When can you get started?”
“Well, my wife took today off of work so I could come fix your car…” He looks under the hood and contemplates for a while.
“I’m glad you have the time available then! How long would it take you to get the part?”
“I wouldn’t be able to get the part until tomorrow.”
“Well I would be glad to have you come back and fix my car tomorrow.”
“I can’t do it tomorrow. My wife took off work today.”
Puzzled, I look at him and ask, "Well, when could you come back and fix my car?’
He then had the audacity to look at me and say, “It doesn’t sound like you are serious about me fixing your car. I’d better go.”
WHAT?!?
“No, I need it fixed! You can fix it right now, fix it today, fix it tomorrow…I don’t care! I want you to fix my car!”
“Well, if you don’t want me to fix your car I can’t help you.” With that he climbs in to his car and pulls out of the parking space.
Dumbfounded, I walk inside and call my mother to tell her never to recommend a mechanic again. While I am talking to her my phone rings. It is the repairman.
“Why won’t you let me fix your car?”
“What are you talking about? I asked you several times to fix it and you spouted some nonsensical bullshit and drove away!” I scream at him, really angry that he would dare to call me after that convoluted exchange.
“No, I didn’t drive away, I just moved my car so birds wouldn’t shit on it.”
I walked outside and saw him in a different parking space away from the trees. I walked over and he rolled down the window.
“You know, if you want me to fix your car I need you to pay me in cash before I buy the parts so I am not out the money if you change your mind.” He said.
I am freaking out at this point. I can’t even contain my suprise and anger any longer. “What? You gave me a general estimate with over $100 difference between the low and high end, you did not write me a bill or even provide me with a business card to prove to me that you are legitimate! You want me to just hand you cash? This is insane! I no longer need you to fix my car. I will tow it to another mechanic.” I yelled at him.
“You know another mechanic will charge a lot more than I am quoting you.”
“I DON’T CARE!” I yelled.
He drove off, aparently really confused as to why I wouldn’t let him fix my car. I paid 3 times his estimate to have someone who is not insane fix my car. I just felt like I needed to tell someone else my story.