Posted by: nhfalcon | November 3, 2009

All Right, Exactly When Did I Get On the FUBAR Express…

and just how the FUCK do I get off?

The past 48 hours have been… umm… entertaining(?!), to be extremely polite.

It started this past Sunday night. I had gone down south to visit Mrs. Chili. Cookiemaker and Little Man had been traveling earlier in the day and had elected to stay home, so I was by myself. I had a wonderful time with Mrs. Chili (would you believe we were able to have a calm, rational discussion about Glenn Beck?! 🙂 ), Mr. Chili, the two little Chilis, Tonks, Bowyer, the two little Bowyers, and MeadMaker’s wife Bobbie. Such a wonderful time, in fact, that I was the last person to leave Chez Chili.

Once I left, however, my fortunes took a turn for the worse. I’d been on the road for perhaps an hour (out of a slightly-more-than-two hour trip) when my car’s engine hiccupped multiple times and then died (keep in mind that by now it was 9PM or so). I gave it a couple of minutes to rest and was then able to restart it. It stayed running for perhaps ten minutes when the process repeated itself. In total, my car died four times between Chez Chili and my saying “fuck it” and calling AAA.

The tow cost me $57. The first potential dropoff point for the car turned out to be a false alarm because the shop I normally take the car to had, unbeknowst to me up until that point, moved. Being a Sunday night, I had to, of course, leave my key in an envelope with a description of the problem in a drop box.

Fortunately, I had Monday off. However, I had to drive to Massachusetts Monday night to check into a hotel because I had a three-day training for my job Tuesday through Thursday. So, I walked to a car rental agency around the corner (figuratively speaking) from my house to get a car for a few days. Problem? The credit card I wanted to use to rent the car had expired back in September and I had NO clue where the current card was. I also really didn’t want to walk all the back to my house and then walk all the way back to the rental agency again (remember, I said the agency was “figuratively” around the corner… and I’m a lazy schmuck). The girl I was working with at the agency volunteered to drive me back to my house and then waited in the driveway while I tore the house apart looking for the card.

I finally found it and was able to rent the car.

I called the shop about my car at 9AM. When they hadn’t gotten back to me about it by 3PM, I called them back.

“We’re still trying to diagnose the problem. We’ll call you back.”

Uh-huh.

So I drive to Mass. No problems. I check into the hotel. No problems. I watch my Falcons lose a heartbreaker to New Orleans. Whatever. I really didn’t expect them to win. At least they made a game of it. I got to sleep around 1AM and got up at 6. I arrived at the training facility aorund 8:45.

And then proceeded to mill around wondering WTF? with the rest of my classmates because nobody seemed to know what room the training was supposed to take place in. At 9:30 somebody finally came to tell us that logistics had gotten effed up and there was no room for the training, so the training had been cancelled! We were to drive back home and go to work in our stores!

Are you fricking kidding me?!

As I was packing up my stuff in my hotel room my boss called me and said there was a three-hour training class taking place along my way home if I could get there by 1PM. If I could, I could just go home after that.

So that’s what I did.

Oh, yeah – my car. Needs a new fuel pump. Gonna cost me $700. Should be ready by Thursday.

Fucking kill me.

P. S – I’ll do a J.A.R.M. tomorrow night.

Advertisements

Responses

  1. SEVEN HUNDRED BUCKS for a FUEL PUMP?! Oh, wait… is it IN the gas tank?

    Dude, I’m SO sorry. I hope this doesn’t dissuade you from coming to visit Chez Chili again; I’m reasonably sure that we didn’t jinx you…

  2. Good gawd! I could get a new car for $700. Okay, not really but dude!

    You’ve hit on one of my pet peeves with the training glitch that is best summed up from a line from the movie HEAT.

    “Don’t waste my mutha-fucking time!”

  3. Oh Falcon… I’m so sorry. Sucks to have a week go so horribly wrong when it otherwise starts so promisingly.

    And it *was* a good game, even if the outcome wasn’t totally to your liking. Take heart in that.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: