November 23, 2008
Work. Work was interesting yesterday. By interesting I mean comical. By comical I mean absurd.Half the staff was MIA, likely creeping through the woods on a very, very cold day carrying very, very cold guns making an attempt to actually be quiet for once in order not to scare off their prey. First day of deer hunting so we were six total. We had one technician in service but no service writer. Casper (we call him Casper because he's about 5'2" and bloodless... and we forgot his real name), who was supposed to work in the event that no one else was available, decided hunting was more important and failed to show up. He had asked me weeks ago if I could watch the counter for him and write up repair orders but I told him I couldn't do it because it was just me and Tim working the parts department. The real reason I told him 'no,' however, is because I absolutely despise him. He acts like a little chihuahua making his slight presence known by bouncing around and barking manically at anything shiny. And he's useless.
At any rate, he was supposed to be there -- he was not. I can only hope the result of his failure to show up is termination. I will no longer have to deal with his Napoleon Complex AND the only company jacket in a size small will become conveniently and gloriously available. SCORE!
So I was thus employed with parts and service. Granted, it was a slow day but the added pressure, which was assigned to me without warning, made me a peevish and unforgiving. Plus, Tim is about as useless as a handle on a snowball and the last thing I really felt like doing was babysitting and cleaning up after him. He has a propensity, when he eats and he is always eating, to scatter more of his food on the floor than he actually gets into his mouth. The ratio of food to floor is completely ridiculous and not a little disgusting.
With all of this, I was simply in no mood to actually deal with people. And, of course, all the idiots of the world who were not otherwise employed with the first day of gun deer hunting, collectively decided to grace me with their offensive presence.
"Yeah. I need a throttle cable that looks like this."
I looked at the man holding the cable and gently raised one eyebrow.
"Okay... and what's it off of?" I asked.
"An ATV."
"I mean, which year, make and model, specifically?"
"Oh, it's right around a 2004 or 2005."
Seriously.
"A 2004 or 2005 WHAT?"
"One of those little Chinese jobs, I believe. It's for my son. I got it free from a neighbor last week and noticed this needed replacing."
"Well, I'm sorry but we do not stock nor can we get parts for off-brand machines. Major manufacturers -- Honda, Suzuki, Yamaha, ect...."
"Yeah but can't you just check to see if you have one that looks like this?"
"No. We don't have any throttle cables in stock at this time," I replied. This was a blatant lie but I knew there was no other way to shut him down.
"Well that's just ridiculous. How am I supposed to fix this thing in time for Christmas? You can't even take the time to just check?"
Sir. You're obviously lacking in basic logic -- you don't even know the model of the machine and seeing as I cannot look up parts for 'a little Chinese job,' as that is not one of the options listed on my handy parts fiche right here, you're F'ed. If you really want me to pick out a random throttle cable for you, I can do that. I can promise you it won't work with your machine because what we stock works with reputable manufacturers who are quite likely not to fold in the next two months but you can buy it just the same as long as you sign this waiver stating that you will not come back in three days screaming at me that I sold you the wrong throttle cable when there does not exist a right throttle cable for the piece of garbage you toted off your neighbor's lawn.
I didn't say that but, OH BOY, did I want to. Instead, I replied,
"I will run upstairs, Sir, and check for you. Just one moment."
I went into the back parts room, checked my e mail, filled my water bottle and chatted with Ryan (he's so funny sometimes). After about fifteen minutes, I returned to the counter with my 'sad face' and reported to the customer the results of my unsuccessful search.
"Oh well," he said "I guess I'll have to figure out what this thing is and see if they have any parts available on eBay. Thanks for checking, though."
Right. Thanks for wasting my time while you slowly came to your senses. Thank you, Sir, for the helmet sale that I just lost -- it's not as though I work on commission or anything. It's not as though every legit sale is like a precious gem when we're standing here, in the midst of winter, with barely a customer to speak of. If you have any questions about knitting or gardening or pole vaulting, please do not hesitate to completely drain every last ounce of life force contained in my being.
Jackass.