This tale takes place on a rainy spring afternoon. A middle aged woman has arrived to pick up her low mile but about 15 year old car. She’s pleasant enough throughout the process of me going over what she was being charged for today, future maintenance needed, and taking her payment.
She gets in her car, peels out of the service drive, goes tearing around the building and comes back through the drive at about 50mph and screeches to a stop.
I walk back out to her door and she throws her keys at my chest, hard.
Lady: “My car wasn’t fucking wet when I dropped it off!”
Me: “I’m sorry ma’am?”
Lady: “I just had this car detailed, and it wasn’t wet when I dropped it off!”
Me: “I apologize for the state of your car, but it’s raining outside, there’s not much I can do about that.”
Lady: “I don’t pay this kind of money to get my car back wet!”
We go back and forth like this for a while, finally I retrieve a chamois from the detail guys and dry her car off.
She leered over me the whole time, pointing out streaks and water spots and any areas I had missed, making me go over the whole car about three times. Once she’s happy, there’s not a drop of water or errant streak, I get a sarcastic and nasty thank you and she happily drives her car out into the pouring rain.