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Sighted myself
Dropped my car off for servicing this morning, and it's running far nicer now. My bank account took a bit of a hit, but considering this involves my safety, I'm cheerful.
Anyway, I'd wandered off to the nearest town (fifteen to twenty minutes walk), had a haircut on the way (clippers on number two on the head, three on the beard) and was awaiting a call.
"Mr Scallion? It's the garage. We found X, Y, and Z wrong with your car. It will cost £W to sort it out. It's only recommendations at the moment, since it's still roadworthy, but they could get worse."
"Go ahead - there is no price too high to pay for my safety! How long until the bastardmobile will be ready?"
"Oh, this won't take long at all."
I wandered back, munching on the way. Got back, was accused by a different receptionist of having walked in the door without her permission, and explained I'd been called to collect my car within a short period of time. I sat down, perused a magazine, and dozed softly for a while, occasionally glancing up to see the Bastardmobile being worked on.
I heard a number of interesting conversations that didn't add up to much, but I'll keep shtum about them. I received a number of glances from the receptionist who had taken my keys initially. I just knew she hadn't recognised me.
About an hour later, she had finished a stack of invoices. The Bastardmobile had been out of the workshop for about twenty minutes by this time, and she started to phone customers to let them know their babies were ready.
When the phone went off in my pocket, she nearly wet herself, especially as I was giving her the Rapscallion grin (tm). Damn, but she suddenly realised where she knew me from, but the shorter hair had thrown her.
I'm a stinker.
Rapscallion
Anyway, I'd wandered off to the nearest town (fifteen to twenty minutes walk), had a haircut on the way (clippers on number two on the head, three on the beard) and was awaiting a call.
"Mr Scallion? It's the garage. We found X, Y, and Z wrong with your car. It will cost £W to sort it out. It's only recommendations at the moment, since it's still roadworthy, but they could get worse."
"Go ahead - there is no price too high to pay for my safety! How long until the bastardmobile will be ready?"
"Oh, this won't take long at all."
I wandered back, munching on the way. Got back, was accused by a different receptionist of having walked in the door without her permission, and explained I'd been called to collect my car within a short period of time. I sat down, perused a magazine, and dozed softly for a while, occasionally glancing up to see the Bastardmobile being worked on.
I heard a number of interesting conversations that didn't add up to much, but I'll keep shtum about them. I received a number of glances from the receptionist who had taken my keys initially. I just knew she hadn't recognised me.
About an hour later, she had finished a stack of invoices. The Bastardmobile had been out of the workshop for about twenty minutes by this time, and she started to phone customers to let them know their babies were ready.
When the phone went off in my pocket, she nearly wet herself, especially as I was giving her the Rapscallion grin (tm). Damn, but she suddenly realised where she knew me from, but the shorter hair had thrown her.
I'm a stinker.
Rapscallion
rb
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