Dealership Blues

This morning I was at an auto dealership for regularly scheduled maintenance.  I gave them my info and what was needed: oil change, check the tires, look for leaks, etc, etc.  This is all my expert opinion, mind you.  Given this would probably only take 10 minutes, I opted for the customer lounge.

The lounge felt like an emergency waiting room except more cozy; and better brewed coffee.  All the customers were pressed waiting to hear the damage.  Most were reading or watching TV quietly; only lady was reading a book and laughing out loud every other page.  I get the impression she is single.

As a good citizen of the lounge nation; I quickly turned my phone to silent as not to disturb my neigbors.  Not that anyone was going to call me or that I would actually talk to someone during my time in wait. There were some bad citizens in the room, namely a french speaking student and a mom who clearly didn't understand the sign "No Cell Phones in Waiting Room".

After waiting 1 hour, I checked my phone to realize that I had a missed call and a voice message.  Excited that it was an employer calling to hire me sight-unseen, alas it was not.  However, it was the dealership calling to discuss my car and the recommended work. Huh? What? Really? Am I on an episode of Quantum Leap?  The same dealership in which it's lounge I was sitting in.  In fact, the same dealership in which I stated that I would wait to hear what was going on.  In fact, the same dealership in which I was told had exceptional customer service.

Check the lounge!

Dear Colon,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. This might come as a bit of a surprise to you – especially because we’ve been inseparable for the last 30 years. I cherish the times we had together but I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore.
We’re not compatible.  You’re bland and I crave more flavors in my life.  My friends jokingly call you, Mr. Mild.  I mean you like white rice, yogurt and Evian bottled water; I shouldn’t require Gas-x and Imodium as part of a healthy balanced diet.

Your favorite spice is plain, and your favorite meal is a sandwich.  Do you even know what my favorite spice or meal is? I once asked if wanted to order Indian take-out and you said "Naan and Basmati Rice".  My point is that I want to eat what I want to eat, when I want to eat it.  We’re holding each other back from enjoying life.

But you know what? We had some good times, or so I think. I often look back fondly at the afternoon we spent in the Glasgow train station bathroom or the flatulent filed Sundays spent in church or most dear to my heart, the bout of food poisoning from the Greek Chicken Salad at the Denver Airport.

Please, don't stress like last time. That means no IBS. And look - I won't even make an issue out of the social awkwardness you caused. So take care of yourself – and I hope some day we can be friends.

Sincerely,

Jim

Bedtime Thoughts

In these poor economic times, it is easy to allow your mind to wander to depths not previously envisioned. It is hard to see where the next 100K jobs will be created, or that what happens when the federal government has a budget gap that our children's children children children can not correct. Or does all these in-fighting make us more of a target for a terriorist attack. Or what will happen if our nation's healthcare isn't made more affordable. Or our nation's test scores in math and science continue to drop lower each year.

But, in all the worry, in all the tension, none of these are the topics that keep me up at night.  I lie in bed at night, with one pressing thought...

"If the shit hits the fan, how will I get enough soluable fiber in my diet?"

Sweet Dreams....