How many of you have seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?
How many of you have seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?
Some things are simply hysterical in a movie…but in real life, not so much.
Remember the Ferrari? Remember the joy ride?
Soooooo…
Yesterday my DH took his car, that may not be a Ferrari, but the SRT Jeep Grand Cherokee is his baby and although he and I haven’t had a race yet, I know he can give my BMW M6 a good run for the money…but I digress. *Ignore my run-on sentences…I’m ranting*
Yesterday my DH took his car in for an oil change. His car is new, so he skipped Jiffy Lube and took it to the dealer where he bought it. It’s in downtown LA close enough to walk to the USC Campus… Anyway, he asked them to do the oil change and check a code that was coming up on the computer.
He tackled traffic driving into the city…if you’ve ever been to LA you know this sucks like a blow fish with teeth…but anyway, he takes the car in…they tell him it’s going to be a couple of hours. The DH leaves, takes a walk…gets a load of the parents dropping their babies off at the USC Campus…eats lunch…yadda, yadda.
He calls the dealership after noon. “Is my car ready?” To which they reply, “The oil is done, but we need to check the code, and they guy who was working on it went to lunch so it’s going to be a little longer.”
Fine…tick tock…yadda, yadda…
My DH walks back into the dealership at 3PM. The car has been there for over 5 hours. The guy who was working on his car is still out to lunch. My DH starts to get that prickly feeling on the back of his neck…you know, the one that makes you ask… “Where’s my car?”
The clerk… *blink, blink*
My husband pushes past the clerk into the garage. “You can’t go back there!”
My husband’s SRT is NOT in the garage. “Where is my car?”
Clerk… *Blink, blink*
The DH starts yelling… not five minutes go by and here drives in his car. THREE guys jump out. The man in charge of the service department is driving.
My husband is livid. “What the hell are you doing driving my car?” The manager of service dept says, “We had to go to lunch!”
Holy Fuck…he did not just say that! But yes, he did…and there’s more. They were gone for 3 hours and come to find out…they NEVER did the oil change… they NEVER even looked at the code report to determine why the code error was showing up.
They went for a flippin’ joy ride in downtown LA… “Went to lunch.”
So, dear readers listening to my rant, do you hand your keys over to the guy at Jiffy Lube and say, “Take her for a spin, go to lunch, tell me how she drives?”
I haven’t calmed down long enough to even START bitching to the right people. Except the managers were the one driving the car. So where do I go? Better Business Borough? Dodge? Jeep? SRT?
Help!
Some things are simply hysterical in a movie…but in real life, not so much.
Remember the Ferrari? Remember the joy ride?
Soooooo…
Yesterday my DH took his car, that may not be a Ferrari, but the SRT Jeep Grand Cherokee is his baby and although he and I haven’t had a race yet, I know he can give my BMW M6 a good run for the money…but I digress. *Ignore my run-on sentences…I’m ranting*
Yesterday my DH took his car in for an oil change. His car is new, so he skipped Jiffy Lube and took it to the dealer where he bought it. It’s in downtown LA close enough to walk to the USC Campus… Anyway, he asked them to do the oil change and check a code that was coming up on the computer.
He tackled traffic driving into the city…if you’ve ever been to LA you know this sucks like a blow fish with teeth…but anyway, he takes the car in…they tell him it’s going to be a couple of hours. The DH leaves, takes a walk…gets a load of the parents dropping their babies off at the USC Campus…eats lunch…yadda, yadda.
He calls the dealership after noon. “Is my car ready?” To which they reply, “The oil is done, but we need to check the code, and they guy who was working on it went to lunch so it’s going to be a little longer.”
Fine…tick tock…yadda, yadda…
My DH walks back into the dealership at 3PM. The car has been there for over 5 hours. The guy who was working on his car is still out to lunch. My DH starts to get that prickly feeling on the back of his neck…you know, the one that makes you ask… “Where’s my car?”
The clerk… *blink, blink*
My husband pushes past the clerk into the garage. “You can’t go back there!”
My husband’s SRT is NOT in the garage. “Where is my car?”
Clerk… *Blink, blink*
The DH starts yelling… not five minutes go by and here drives in his car. THREE guys jump out. The man in charge of the service department is driving.
My husband is livid. “What the hell are you doing driving my car?” The manager of service dept says, “We had to go to lunch!”
Holy Fuck…he did not just say that! But yes, he did…and there’s more. They were gone for 3 hours and come to find out…they NEVER did the oil change… they NEVER even looked at the code report to determine why the code error was showing up.
They went for a flippin’ joy ride in downtown LA… “Went to lunch.”
So, dear readers listening to my rant, do you hand your keys over to the guy at Jiffy Lube and say, “Take her for a spin, go to lunch, tell me how she drives?”
I haven’t calmed down long enough to even START bitching to the right people. Except the managers were the one driving the car. So where do I go? Better Business Borough? Dodge? Jeep? SRT?
Help!
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