Walking on Eggs

Yesterday I took my car in for an oil change at the dealer.

So I’m sitting there in the waiting room and a service clerk comes out to give the bad news to some Cadillac contessa.

I tried not to listen but she had that arrogant Thurston Howell III voice and it permeated my protective devices.

He told her about these most ridiculously unnecessary repairs totally $6000, and she droned on and on with her questions.

He sold his bill of baloney. She bought it.

When he came up to me and asked if I was the owner of my car, I said, “I don’t want you to talk to me. You bring bad tidings. Send someone else who bears news of great joy.”

But ma’am..

No, I’m serious. I need good news today.

Ma’am.

Please. I can’t take it.

Ma’am? Your car is ready. The keys are in it and it’s waiting by the desk.

Oh.