In the Depths

Do you ever have those experiences where you feel almost certain that you must be on Candid Camera, or are in the process of being Punk'd even though you're not remotely famous? That was me yesterday.

So, La Sister's transmission fell out of her car. Or exploded while in her car, I am unsure of the exact details. According to people in the know, this is a fairly insurmountable obstacle, in terms of car usage.

However, our lucky number was drawn, in that the place that towed it happened to have a used transmission that could rebuild the car - better, faster, stronger, and able to shift. Though there was a language barrier to contend with, we managed to extract the vital information that A) they could fix the car, in B) two or three days, provided that C) we supplied them with a $300.00 downpayment.

We readily agree to such terms, because we hate the DART system of getting around, what with all the unwashed masses on the buses and whatnot. But I have to get to this place to front the money. This place being somewhere deep in the depths of south Dallas, nestled between 3 bail bondsman offices and a boarded up hot dog stand. I make it over there on my lunch hour, only getting lost 3 times.

I hop out of the car, and the place is completely abandoned. I see La Sister's car over in the shadows but no other cars and no people. I wander around the interior of the place (I use the term interior loosely, as both the front and back doors were missing) and finally happen upon a guy hanging around one of the offices.

I explain who I am and what I'm there for. He just tilts his head and stares at me. At first I think it's just more of the language barrier thing and get ready to dust off what little Spanish skills I have (the only two words available to me: tomorrow and now. This will go well.) to convey my intent, when he says "Oh, right. The Toyota."

Wonderful.

Guy: "Okay, so you'll pay now?"

Jason: "Yes. Credit card okay?" [I pull it out and extend it to him.]

Guy: "Sure." [He stares at me. Looks down at the credit card. Back up at me. Back down at the card.] "Okay." [Stands there some more.]

Jason: "Uhh, so Visa?"

Guy: "Yes. Okay." [More staring. I sort of wave the card to him, trying to convey that, yes, I would like him to take the card and proceed.]

Jason: "You do take credit cards, right? It says here on the sign."

Guy: "Right." [Stares. I near the point of just running away. Finally he reaches down below the counter and pulls up a receipt book. Sweet! Progress.] "Fill this out."

Jason: "Like, with my card information? Isn't there, like a machine?"

Guy: [stares] "Fill this out."

Jason: [With the despair of the damned.] "Okay, yeah sure." [Fills out the form, making up entry lines, as it is a receipt for petty cash, not actually a credit card form.] "Alright. Done. Is that it?"

Guy: [Takes the form. Looks at it. Looks up at me. Looks down at the form. Etc, etc. I start looking for the hidden cameras.] "Right."

Jason: "Okay, so that's it? Two or three days and it will be done, right? You can reach me at that number when it's done or if you have any questions." [I start to back away slowly.]

Guy: "Right. Two or three days. So, you're going to pay with a credit card, right?"

Jason: [Resists the urge to smack my forehead.] "Yessss...?"

Guy: "So, we should run it through the machine."

Jason: [Brain explodes. No longer wants to give this person any money, but at the same time knows that no one else will have this good a price.] "Okaaay. Where's the machine?"

[Guy leads the way to a back office, unlocks the one remaining door in the building, and points the way to the credit card machine. I offer him the card once again. Guy stares at me, looks down at the card, looks up at me....AAARRGyougettheidea.]

Jason: [At the breaking point] "So should I just do it?"

[More staring. Abandoning all hope, I run the card through, input the proper amount, type in the numbers , print out and sign the right copies.]

Jason: [with a level of restrain previously unknown in the world] "Okay, you keep this copy with my signature. I'll take this copy. And we'll tear up the old receipt where I wrote down my account number. Now you call me at this number when it's ready. I have your number. Two or three days, right?"

[More staring. I give up, flee the building, entirely sure I might as well have just set a stack of 20 dollar bills on fire, for all the good this has done.]

So yeah, less of a reality TV show, more of a hideous consumer mishap. Man, I hope they actually fix that car. Naive, thy name is Jason.