Sister Mary Agnes

I was running a little late for my 8:30 run. I went in to the waiting area looking for three customers. There were two people engaging in pleasant and animated conversation with the service manager and an older woman sitting alone.

I announced myself and my intentions and the older woman verbally accosted me. She was extremely upset with the dealership and was nearly beside herself.

“Let me start again,” I said, “My name is David and I’m looking for three people that need a ride. At this point I do not know if you’re one of them or not. I am sorry you’re having a rough time. If I am taking you home you can tell me the whole story on the way.”

By now the two people talking to the service manager have left the room in the direction of the shuttle. I still did not know if they were riders or not.

“I have someone with me.” she said.
“I’ll look for the person. A man or a woman?”
“A man. He went out for a cigarette.”
“Did you see what direction?”
Turns out the fellow was in the cashiers office down an aisle looking at parts.

So, we load up the four of them and away we go. She said her name was Sister Mary Agnes and when she said damn something or other I made mention of it. Turns out she lied about being a nun.

Apparently all this froth was generated because the service writer apparently asked, “When would you like to pick up your car? About two?”

“I made an appointment,” she tells me, “It’s eight in the morning. I don’t know why a brake job should take until 2 o’clock! I have things to do. I need my car.”

She didn’t seem to realize that he had asked her two separate questions.
I invited her to make a counter offer next time.

Her car was done by 11:15 a.m. I called, told her I was coming and said she’d wait outside. I said it was hot out. Stay indoors. I’ll call again when I’m 15 or 20 blocks away.

She used to tend bar. She had some pretty good jokes.
It turns out all she needed was someone to pay attention to her.