A Writers ReceptionMy car got called in for a safety recall check up...and I had to go with it.
We went this morning at 8:30 and as we were driving down to the appointment the left turning signal starting flashing like a loaded carbon monoxide detector! Yah... perfect timing! and I made a mental note to mention it when I arrived.
Once at the receiving desk, I start fishing through my bangles of keys... two key rings with MASS amounts of keys on each. It may look like I own lots of property/items, but it's actually a severe case of OCD which doesn't allow me to dispose of ANY key once it's no longer useful. But since I've just finished using the one I am meant to give up...it doesn't take much searching. It's the warmest piece of metal on the rings!
So yah yah, blah, blah, "what time is your appointment for? your make of car is?... do you want to wait?...blah, blah the same typical questions that are part of the car maintenance routine...except this time, I suddenly remember, "oh yah... I have a flashing signal light" I announce, and I say it like it is actually an interesting observation and perhaps a great hope for something 'different' in this equation to happen. So this revelation brings my technician out behind the counter to have a gander. "Yup, yup... it's her back end on the left side", he diagnoses.
So off to the reception area I go to wait. I'm told it may take a few hours... do I want a shuttle? Hell NO!... these car waiting areas are a writers dream! I can spead hours peering over the top of a newspaper or magazine observing all the other waiting customers lounging about in the surrounding chairs. I usually always walk away with at least one good story to ponder in my head on the drive back home.
So an hour into waiting, I see that there isn't any interesting characters in the midst. Damn! and just as I am about to give up in walks a middle aged woman (maybe 56) in a super high cut,(or short...whatever) cotton jersey, white sports skirt. With a ******** halter with thin spindley spaghetti straps. Ye Gawds are you catching this? This outfit on Nicole Richie would be a cute pass, but on this woman it only seems to accentuate her cottage cheese arms and robust ghost white thighs!...her hair is below the shoulders and coloured with what was surely MEANT to be blond highlights. She swooshes past the front of my chair and gifts us all with what seems like a dustcropper of Chantilly scent. and I was just about to go for breakfast!!!
Her bottom barely has touched the seat before she has connected with someone on her phone. Blah,blah,blah, "Ron" ...laugh, laugh...snort, snort! and she proceeds to tell him in this bullhorn type voice about every extra perk they can get on his new truck. But she isn't pleased about it... oh no... it is going to "cost em 2 thousand extra bucks and she doesn't care for half of the bling"... and as for the extra storage panel in the box...she could install it her dang self! hah ha ha ...snort, snort.
Part of me wonders why she has to let her entire conversation be over-heard and another part of me is somewhat thankful because it is keeping me mildly entertained. I start to wonder why I am so bothered by her appearance and begin to imagine how classy she might look if she were to wear a nice linen jacket or a pair of dress slacks and if she must do the casual thing (after all it is summer) why not wear something to cover the thighs and a light top with some capped short sleeves to battle some of the cottage cheese?
Her conversation eventually gets so annoying and so endless that I decide to visit the Dealership Restaurant and check out the chili they have advertised on the menu. I check my watch...hmmm... just after 10 a.m...wonder if the chili is out yet.
Sure enough, the woman behind the counter pulls out an amazingly huge roaster of chili that she is keeping warm from the oven. While I sit and eat, I over-hear three older gentlemen discussing their past lives as semi-drivers before their retirements. There's tales of winding highways; dangerous outback roads; good fishing in the north; and great meals at Sally's Roadster on the #29. I glance over and note they all seem to be dressed similarly: One plaid shirt; two worn tshirts; and faded and worn jeans for each of the trio. It strikes me that the audio level of their conversation is as low key as their attire.
...As I walk back out to the reception area, I note the same woman I saw earlier is still on the phone..walking and ranting and giggling between the trucks on display. I start to wonder if her phone is even on? and then I start to wonder if who she is married to. Does he like so much of their private life being announced in the middle of a reception area for hours on end? Is he even on the other line?
Next, I spot her hanging outside the front entrance, leaning against the side of the building, still holding the phone and blowing smoke rings in perfect formation around her tiled back head. ... I should have asked for a shuttle.