There is a brown man asleep across from me. He does not look at peace. When he is not loudly snoring, he is talking. I can’t hear exactly what he is saying over Barack Obama on the television. He starts flailing his arm. He wakes up for a moment, then falls back asleep. He seems to have trouble breathing. Sleep apnea, for sure. I don’t know know how long he has been here. I don’t know how long he has been asleep, if you can call it that.Fifteen minutes later he wakes up. He is completely disoriented - his face and clothes all wrinkled. After sitting up - then struggling to stand upright -he heads straight to the nut dispenser, puts in a quarter, and receives a palm full of little salty nuts. He opens the door to the waiting area, goes outside and lights up a cigarette.
I later learn he drives for an owner-operator, who is, at the moment, out on his boat somewhere - fishing. He does not answer his cell. The driver has been here since yesterday, out of money, truck broken down and he can’t get a hold of this owner to get the funds to get the repairs started. Welcome to the world of waiting at the truck dealership.
Did you know what every service writer is told to say when you ask them how the repair is going? “They're just finishing it up.” They say that no matter what is going on. And "finishing it up" could take days. And then there is “hey, we were just finishing it up, but we found…or we’re done, but..." When they say “he’s” working on it", its time to get a motel room.
If you don't "check in" on "them" and ask what is happening, I guarantee "they" will forget you, finish the repair, park your truck somewhere and never tell you. You will sit forever in the waiting area until you have cob webs on your shoulders and nobody will know where you are until someone files a missing person report on you. That's how dealerships work.
The waiting room here in Memphis varies only slightly from other dealerships around the country. It doesn't matter if its a Mack, International, Freightliner, KW or Volvo dealer - they're all equally horrible. Effective communications are not a priority at any of these locations. Diesel mechanics are in a world unto themselves. Men are from Mars, females from Venus and mechanics are from Pluto.
Here there is no Internet service. Pizza box esand McDonald's wrappers fill the overflowing (too small) garbage cans. The shower and bathroom hasn’t been cleaned. The microwave is dirty. The snacks unhealthy. The plastic trees and bushes are grayish color from dust and exhaust and do nothing to add to the booking room atmosphere of the room. Germs and bacteria surely feel right at home here. You want to take a shower after spending any time in one of the (almost always & typical) broken lounge chairs. You would need a gallon of Pine Soil to clean the place.
And then the brown man comes back into the room. I had switched the channel from CNN to women's tennis. The tv is hooked up to a dish satellite system, but you can only get 5 channels. That's all the dealership elected to provide its customers. Sarena Williams is prancing around the court in a traditional women tennis dress with balls stuck in pockets of her panties. The brown man is still smoking a cigarette, which pisses me off, and his eye balls are popping out looking at Sarena. I can feel myself getting sick from the stench. Williams wins the match, barely shakes hands with her opponent and the brown man decides to change the channel.
He seems to think he is the only human in the room. Maybe because I’m typing on my laptop he thinks I don’t care if he smokes and watches crap on tv. He decides to switch over to some "reality crime" show tracking a serial killer of 17 women. Just what I want to listen to - watching retired cops with bad teeth and great pensions talk about the one big arrest they made after being on some local force in Indiana for 30 years. Hey, at least it's not wrestling or the Simpson's.
I’m becoming more and more like the (OCD) character Monk. I'm watching crap tv and sitting in a germ infested brown fake plastic lounge chair. God knows who was sitting here before me. I wish I had brought in some Clorox wipes before I sat down. I’m falling asleep. Thank goodness the smoke has cleared. I wonder when the air conditioning filter was changed. I’m sitting right under the vent. I hope I’m out of here soon.
The brown man is sitting outside - smoking again - I think it's his 3rd cigarette. since he gained conciousness. There is a Viagra commercial on tv. A pre-seniorish couple is on a motorcycle riding somewhere with fresh air and a clean motorcycle seat. They’re thinking about sex or how many residuals they will get from doing the commercials. My wife is driving to Orlando. I wish I were home. I’m going to take a nap.
Post script - while I was asleep a couple with a slobbery bulldog arrived. The yucky dog was licking my hand and I woke up. The brown man was a former mortgage broker, who apparently made $100K a year and lost his job when the mortgage crisis began two years ago. At least that's what he told the bulldog couple. After making several queries as to what the hell is going on with my truck it magically was finished. They didn't come and get me. I saw the truck parked out in the lot. I went and got them. I asked them what happened with the clutch. Ronnie, the shop foreman, said it was because of a "lack of maintenance - no regular lubrication." Seems the thing "just dried up and cracked." Because of that the company voided the warranty. Well, how about that.
