Ok, so I drive a moderately fancy car built somewhere in Germany. I’ve worked hard during my life and this is my reward to myself.
A fancy car needs only the finest of service, right? Maybe some of you can relate to this.
You drive into the dealership service-bay, nice and bright and clean. A hoard of good-looking people descend on you, opening doors and writing things onto their forms, speaking into their headsets. It’s like you just pulled into The Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue — you feel like “Hey, I’m a somebody!!”
I tell them what’s wrong with my car, they whip out all their Star-Trek inspired devices, little handheld tools that blink and beep and shine bright lights, and they determine what they think is wrong.
I need this, that, and some other thing. Awesome. My car will drive like never before and I’ll get better gas mileage too. Fantastic.
Now, this uneasy feeling envelops me when I ask the question “how much?” Feeling like a somebody as I am up to this point, I now feel somewhat obligated to spend like a somebody. After all, I’m sitting in this opulent service area surrounded by good looking people, me and my fancy car surrounded by other people’s fancy cars.
Spark plugs and oil change — one thousand three hundred dollars, and your latte is ready. I wince, I pay, I leave.
Yes, my car drove spiritedly; my gas mileage did get a little better, for a while. They washed my car and made it look spiffy. At the end of the day though, I just spent the equivalent a mortgage payment on a necessary tune up.
Before moving out of town to where I am now, I had “A Guy” … Everyone needs “A Guy.” keep reading…