For almost two months now, the body shop has been giving us vague answers about when our car would be ready. The past two weeks or so have been particularly frustrating. "Sometime next week. Maybe Friday." "Next week. Tuesday at the earliest."
They left me a message this morning while I was teaching to let me know it would be ready for pickup at 2pm today. Well, it just so happens that Brian has a gig tonight and had to be at work at 1, and he will not be home until late tonight.
So after 2 months of indefinite "maybes", all of sudden they are quite precise. They called me at 2:10pm. "Your car is ready. We left you a message." Subtext: why weren't you here 10 minutes ago? Quite amusing, really.
"We won't be able to come get it until tomorrow," I said. (Which Brian already told them yesterday.) She asked me what time. I honestly don't know, so I told her that. "I really couldn't tell you," I said. "Maybe in the afternoon."
It wasn't until I hung up that I even realized that I just did to them what they've been doing to me for the last two weeks. It was brilliant and delicious and it made me laugh an evil laugh.
My Parents’ Garden Of Eden
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