From Nurse Hiedi, Feburary, 2010
One of my many, many jobs I had while putting myself through nursing school was a grease monkey at a jiffy lube type place. IT was a 6 bay shop, and we did car repairs, oil changes, and had a car wash on site.
A favorite customer of mine came from this rich family. They reeked of it. Their oldest daughter was well…behind her back we called her miss bitch. Only reason we put up with her was her daddy (he and his wife owned a 25+ successful fast food restaurant chain I won’t mention) was a longtime customer of the car shop. For the last 15 years he had brought not only his personal cars to us, but his company cars/trucks to be fixed/oil changes, the like.
One day, Miss high and mighty rich Bitch (she was 19 at the time) pulls up in her brand new BMW (daddy paid cash for it. Birthday present or some crap) and she gets out of the car just screaming at us to fix her car.
I come out and ask her what’s wrong. In a huff, she explains the seat is broken. It won’t slide back, only forward. And that we better fix it because her daddy pays us good money to fix all their cars.
I told her we’d call her when it was fixed. She told us to call her on her cell phone because she had things to do and the car had to be fixed THAT day or she was going to daddy.
So one of my fellow grease monkey slaves pulls into an empty car bay. 20 minutes later, I was standing under a car, finishing up an oil change when he was looking at the seat trying to fix it.
I watch his face turn three shades of pale and hear him yell “EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEWWWWWWWWW GROSS!!!!” followed by a “Somebody quick get me latex gloves and a brown paper bag…EW EW EW EW EW GROSS!!!!”
Turns out Miss Bitch’s thong, a condom wrapper (no condom itself, just the torn wrapper) and a bright green vibrator had rolled under the seat and got stuck in the track that allows the seat to slide forward and backwards.
An hour later Miss Rich Bitch comes back with her friends. She came out to the counter with them all high and mighty demanding to know if her car was fixed. I told her it was. She demanded to know the price, and then proceeded to tell her friends how we are expensive and that maybe she should go to another place if I don’t give her some sort of discount.
She asked loudly what was wrong with her car.
Trying to show her some courtesy (and spare her from embarrassment in front of her friends and the 8 or so custys in the lobby) I tell her we discovered a foreign object stuck under the seat, I wasn’t going to charge her but please step into the office so I can give her the um….items we found.
She started talking loudly about how we “better not” charge her for such an easy fix and how crazy I was-there was no “object” lodged under the seat, she keeps her car clean I just better hand over her keys or she was gonna call daddy and tell him how rude and incompetent we were.
I gave Miss Bitch her car keys. I said I had no intention of mentioning this whole thing to her daddy, but if she was going to call him to complain about us fixing her car, then I have no problems showing daddy what we found under the seat.
She looked at me with the “you don’t know what you’re talking about bitch.”
I grabbed the brown paper bag from under the counter, opened it and showed it to her (hey…if she had been nice about it and came into the office away from everyone like I asked her too….well….) and she turned 15 shades of red.
I asked “We are not going to charge you for fixing the seat, nor are we going to say anything to your father about this. But if you feel the need to get him involved….”
She grabbed her keys, her purse, and the bag all in one huff, then glared with her famous Miss Bitch stare and stormed out with her friends.
We never did tell her daddy.
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