Autonation Timeline

*Note the times

Thursday Evening: I return to vehicle after work to find that the AC is blowing hot air. I check the pressure when I get home and the needle shoots all the way to the red. Shit.

Monday, 9:30 AM: I arrive for my appointment at AutoNation. I tell the the service worker, Daisy, about the AC, as well as the Check Engine light that has since come on, and Uber back home.

Monday, 2:00 PM: I call to get a status update. Daisy doesn't answer the call, but a receptionist tells me that the computer doesn't show any updates so they must still be working on it.

Monday, 4:00 PM: I call again. This time Daisy answers, but tells me the technician is out on a test drive and that she'll call me back when he returns. She says it should be about 10 minutes.

Monday, 5:00 PM: I call back. Daisy puts me on hold for nearly 10 minutes. She comes back to tell me that the technician did a full flush and recharge on my AC, but hasn't detected any leaks. As of right now it's working fine. She also informs me that I won't be getting my car back until the next day since the work isn't complete on it yet. I'm upset, but what can I do. I hang up.

Monday, 7:30 PM: I buy a bottle of Hochstadter's Slow & Low Rock & Rye. That's not relevant to this story, just really good whiskey.

Tuesday, 11:00 PM: I call AutoNation. Daisy greets me by name upon answering, but since I didn't give my name to the receptionist that patched me through, I assume this means that she now recognizes my number and has been expecting my call. She gives me a quote for the work. I insist that it be done quickly since I have plans throughout the day. She tells me she'll have it done for me in a hour, or hour and a half. She asks me if I would like it to be washed. I say yes and hang up.

Tuesday, 1:30 PM: I Uber to AutoNation, because fuck this shit.

Tuesday, 1:40PM: I arrive with the full intention of waiting quietly in the waiting area for another half hour before showing out, but I immediately see my car sitting in the exit lane, unwashed, so I decide the show must go on right now, because Fuck This Shit.

Tuesday, 1:45PM: The "cashier" (for lack of a better term) asks me if someone called to tell me my vehicle was ready. I told him I came up to wait but since I see it's ready I want it now. He finds my paperwork, unfinished, on Daisy's desk. Daisy is nowhere to be found. He checks me out, gives me the key and I go on my way. I notice the AC isn't blowing hot, but it's not blowing cold either. I assume it just needs to get going for a bit so it can cool down. I head to Jack in the Box about 2 miles away, and no sooner that arrive that the air from the Sahara starts blowing out of my vents. I drive straight back to AutoNation because FUCK.THIS.SHIT

Tuesday, 2ish PM: The cashier, who took it upon himself to try to help me since the manager was busy, has the technician come to my car. The tech had written on the paperwork that when he tested my vehicle, he didn't detect the hot air. I wondered aloud if he knew what the difference between hot and cold was. He held his hand over my vent and profoundly said, "Oh." Daisy has reappeared and tells me the tech, the same guy who couldn't tell that hot air was coming out of an AC in the middle of July, was going to take it back into the shop to see what he could do. I walk to waiting area and angrily pace enough to scare all of the white people in the vicinity. Good.

Tuesday, 3:45PM: I go into Daisy's office for an update. I ask in the calmest way possible, which at this point was probably still angry enough to make a 12 year old cry. She pages the tech. He calls in to say he still can't find the issue. I tell Daisy to go get my car. She can't get out of the office fast enough.

Tuesday, 3:55PM: Without a word to Daisy I get into my car and drive off. I spend the rest of the day/week/month/year in a searing hot rage. For the rest of eternity I fantasize about watching AutoNation Chrysler Dodge Jeep RAM Spring burn to the ground.

Lottery Tickets

     For as long as I can remember (and, in fact, before I was born) my father has faithfully played the lottery every week. When I was younger, this meant hopping in the car on Saturday night and heading east on 270 until we crossed into Illinois. We'd take the first exit and pull into the seedy little strip with a bar on one end and a liquor store on the other. I used to secretly wonder if the bar was a strip club...never was able to confirm. Once inside my dad would head straight to the register to get the process started (he has quite the complicated order. I still don't understand it, despite having been sent out to get his tickets for him numerous times since coming of age.), and I'd head to the candy isles, knowing full well that he would buy me anything I wanted. This was such a normal part of my life growing up that I never stopped and wondered why he did it. What was it that made him start this ritual all those years ago. Sure, he's won a few times, although never anything life changing, but he's never been the "get rich quick" type. So what was it?

     

     Maybe it was this feeling I have now. This constant feeling of unknowing; Of uncertainty; Of constant agonizing anxiety. Maybe it started when he was feeling uncertain of how he was going to be able to provide for his wife and kid? Maybe he was desperate to feel in control of something, anything, and going out and buying that ticket is what he came up? If that was the case, then I get it. That's exactly how I feel right now.

     My job here is coming to end, and I'm terrified. I moved here for this job. This job is the only job I've had in almost 2 years. Everyone I know here, knows me in reference to this job, and thanks to shit this company has done since we started operating in New Orleans, that is not a good thing. I basically have to start over. I'm starting over in a place that is already suffering from a diminished Film and Television tax credit, while having no shortage of production workers. So far, I haven't even received a response, let alone an offer, from any place I've sent my resume to. I don't know what I'm going to do. In about a months time I'll be unemployed and have no clue how I'm going to support myself. My lease doesn't even end until August. My girlfriend and I are planning on moving in together when that happens, but as right now I don't even know how I'll make it to August. So maybe this is it? Maybe this is what causes people to head to the nearest gas station and start playing the numbers? Maybe having a handful of tickets is the only thing that gives those people hope? Maybe it's all they can think to do?

     I don't know. I don't know anything at all right now. How do people do this? How can it be so hard to just be normal? Why is it that I no longer daydream about lifestyles of the rich and the famous, but about having a 9 to 5 that let's me pay for the most basic of bills? How do people think about this stuff and not cry? Is this what life is supposed to be?