Only Nola

How to Leave Your Mark

So, yesterday after I got off work around 3:00, I decided to take the kids to see the new Rugrats movie. Got home, got everyone dressed and ready, and took off to make the 5:00 show. My oldest, Nathan, was really quiet on the drive, which is about 25 minutes long. I asked him if he was okay, he said he didn't feel very good. Knowing he sometimes gets carsick, I asked him if we needed to pull over. Last thing I wanted was to redecorate the interior of my brand new car. He says no, he'll be fine. I ask him several times more on the trip, same answer. We get to the movie theater, get out of the car and get in line. He sits on the concrete, and once again I tell him we can come back tomorrow if he's sick. He says no, he's fine. I pay for the tickets, we walk in the door. Before the guy tears our tickets, I get down on eye level with Nathan, feel his forehead (no fever) and reiterate that no one will be mad if we have to leave... nope, he says he's fine. Okie dokey then. We get our tickets torn and head for the concession area to get drinks and whatnot. Standing in line all of MAYBE 10 seconds, I look over when I hear Nathan cough, and my heart stops... I know that cough, and it's not a regular one. Before I can take two steps to avoid what I now KNOW is coming, he's bent in half and yakking all over the floor (and the feet of the patrons in front of us) at the brand new theater. And I'm not talking a little bit, here... we're looking at a veritable river of puke. My other half was closest to him, so he's helping hold him steady, and I'm looking around for an employee (suddenly no one wants to acknowledge they work there) so we can get a) the mess cleaned up, and b) our tickets refunded... yeah, I know, some people wouldn't worry about the tickets at a time like that, but with what movies cost these days, and since I knew my other half had a handle on the poor kid, I was NOT leaving without a trade in for new tickets. So Jonathan takes Nathan off to the men's room when it becomes apparent that the river's run dry, and I am lucky enough to have a guy in front of me that feels sorry for us and goes looking for the manager for me. My 4 year old is holding two things... my hand, and his nose. Soon enough a manager type comes walking down a side hallway, and I make sure that's who he is, then apologize for the mess (of course it was an accident, and I wasn't mad at my son, for freak's sake, but was still mortifying to be the center of attention and the reason the manager probably lost a couple of employees that day) and ask about the tickets. He was very nice about it, and gave us passes to come back, and walked with us down to the men's room to wait for Jonathan and Nathan to come out and see if he was okay. We left, Nathan is fine, no harm no foul... but I guarantee you that theater won't forget us anytime soon...

Car Salesmen Shouldn’t Breed

If someone walked up to me tomorrow and said I could either have a root canal or go to the car dealer and buy a new car, I'd be thrilled to see the dentist. This past week I had to buy a new car, and I haven't had that much fun since I was in labor... with no meds. I ended up dealing with this dealership out of state because the two dealers here were patronizing and not being straight with me, so I found a dealership in Memphis that seemed to be much better. Mind you, I was doing all the set up on the phone, but still, it seemed like the far better choice. I must have talked to this chick a dozen times on the phone in the 3 days before I got there to pick up the SUV I'd ordered. Guess who does not currently own an SUV. Yeah, that would be me.

I get there Saturday to see my VUE at the Saturn place, just to find out that what she SAID she had for me is just a wee bit different than what she actually had. Not to mention she called me on my cell phone halfway to Memphis to tell me she'd been 'just a bit' off on the payments she'd told me before. Like $40 'just a bit'. So I get there, already trying to decide if I can handle the payment difference because I REALLY want this little SUV, and walk over to the one that is supposed to have my name all over it, and it's like some horrible bait and switch, because this is NOT what I ordered. The stereo's wrong, it's four wheel instead of front wheel drive, it doesn't have the travel package, and the price is different. I went a bit batty. She's lucky I didn't decapitate her. Looked all over the lot and there wasn't one that was just like what I wanted, so I ended up having to look at cars instead. It's a long story, but I didn't have time to mess around, had to find something ASAP. So we test drive a few cars, and I'm liking this L200 a lot, so we start working up the paperwork. It's now almost 6:00 at night, I haven't eaten all day, and I've been trapped in hell at the dealership for almost 3 hours. So I'm an easy mark, for the simple reason I want to sign ANYTHING just to get my sorry ass out of there. Anyhooooo... Well, she comes up and asks for some paperwork on the 2 cars I'm trading in. I don't have it because I'd asked the twit if I'd need to bring it and she said no. Now she's looking at me like I'M the retard for not having it. So we work around that, and then she asks for the GMS number. Like I have that, either. She'd told me she'd take care of getting that as well, and yet here we are again with her looking at me like I didn't do MY job. So we get through that, and she disappears into the back to do some things, and I go outside for a cigarette. She comes outside in a minute, walks up to my fiancee and I, and says 'Is your other trade in driveable?'. I just looked at her. I was trying to spot the crack pipe, but she must have stashed it. I'd told her from Day One that I was going directly from the dealership to Atlanta to tow back the second trade in car BECAUSE the transmission wasn't working, and now she's acting like she doesn't know. I reminded her at this point about the transmission, and she's like 'Well, we have drivers that could go get it for you... are you SURE it's not driveable?' This question is accompanied by this look that I can only describe as conspiratorial, like if she winks at me and nudges me with her elbow, I'll suddenly say 'Yeah, I was just driving all the way to Atlanta, picking up a tow dolly, hitching up the car, dragging it back, ruining my weekend and breaking my bank account in half FOR FUN... now that you ask me like THAT, yeah, it's driveable.' I reiterated that the car HAS to be towed, and she sits there for a second and then says 'Well, don't mention that to our finance manager when you're signing papers. They kind of don't know and think it's running right'. I almost fell over. This twit has LIED to her boss, and now wants me to make it look like I'M the dishonest one who never told her it was broken. But bear in mind, I was also weak from lack of food, tired from the week from hell, and disgusted by now with the whole process, so I just wanted OUT. Not to mention, I had driven my car all the way to Memphis with my fiancee following me in his truck, specifically to leave my car there, take his truck to pick up the other car... what the hell would I have done with my car if I'd told her I couldn't take her shit anymore? So I just sat there cursing her to my other half and gritted my teeth and somehow made it through till I got the keys to my new car. The next day we're supposed to meet her at the dealership to drop off the second trade and let me pick up my new car, hence ending the whole fiasco. It didn't work out quite that easily, but that's another entry altogether.

I'd love to tell you it's all over now, but no, I got a phone call from her yesterday informing me the paperwork had been filled out wrong, and they have to send me another kit to resign and return to them to refile. Then they have to send THAT set to my cosigner, and when they get that back from him, THEN I'll have copies sent to me, and the tax check to pay the sales tax and get my tags transfered to the new car. I'm going to call the central number for Saturn when this wraps up and just let them have it.

My only hope is that this bitch doesn't have kids....

Here’s a Muzzle… For Your Kid

Can someone explain to me when the three year olds started ruling the world? You can't tell me they don't, because I see it at my job, in the malls, the restaurants... it's EVERYWHERE! Mothers no longer wield control, the rotten little shit hanging off their purse strap does. Yeah, the one screaming and kicking complete strangers. Charming, isn't he? I work in the service industry, so I get to see children, and parents, at their worst. I'm assuming it's their worst, anyway, because if it's their best... God help us all.

The other day this woman brings in her little girl for an emergency hair cut because the little angel has a new accessory. Unfortunately it's in her hair. Equally unfortunate is the fact it's a hardened mass of gum. (Like a 3 year old needs to be chewing gum in the first place, but don't get me started). Anyway, we sit the kid in my chair, and it goes pretty much straight downhill from there. This pint sized tyrant won't sit still for 2 seconds running, and the mother uses the two words I dread most... 'Now, Honey...'. I have yet to see ONE child respond to this pussed out version of parenting. The mother must have repeated the 'now honey' about 7 dozen times, and needless to say it had NO effect. What the kid needed was the mom to get down on her level, look her in the eye, and tell her what my mother would have told me. First there was the grip firm enough to meld your fingers into one giant appendage accompanied by the look that would make grown men cry. Then the words NO kid wants to hear... 'If you don't straighten up and do what I tell you so, I'm going to take you out to the car. Do you WANT to go to the car?' Is this a trick question? HELL NO I didn't want to go to the freaking car! My mom, thank God, understood totally that children need to be civilized so that taking them out of the house doesn't require a muzzle and a tranquilizer gun. She instilled in us a healthy respect for the 'wrath of mom'. And honestly, I'm glad. She'll tell you herself, to this day, that there was nowhere she couldn't take my sisters or myself, because we knew how to act. Most of the kids I see now not only don't need to be let out in public, they need deprogrammed. Chant with me, people. Repeat this as often as necessary when confronted with a minor that's been given the mistaken impression that the world revolves around it... 'You are not in charge. You are just a child. I will kick your ass'