The Waiting Room

 On Monday I took the car into the dealer so they could take a looksee at an oil leak. I checked the car in with the service department and was asked to go to the waiting room. I took it slow, knowing the my only purpose for the next hour or so was just to kill time.
 I flung the door open and was hit with the smell of chocolate chip cookies and a pathetic look on the faces of half a dozen customers. Most people would think its very thoughtful of them to supply warm treats for their customers. I'm trying to limit my treat intake so it was like torture for me. I suffered through it but I gotta confess they smelled good and the thought of a cookie for breakfast did cross my mind.
 The "room" isn't a room. Its a remote corner of a showroom kinda separated by a hallway. The receptionist walked in and out with her headphones on directing calls to the service desk and parts department. Salesmen wandered over to get a cup of coffee. The occasional tech would stop in for a snack or drink. Every time that door would open the customers waiting would pop their head up like puppies in the pound. Pick me, I've been here so long, please pick me. In one corner was a 30 somethin male with a door knob problem on his car. He wasn't like the others. They asked him to come into the service area to describe the problem but he just tried explaining it to the escort that came to get him. I don't know what his fascination was with the waiting room. This was his chance to get out if not just for a few minutes. He was in a one sided conversation with the kindle reader lady that had exhaust fumes coming into her car. I think she may have sniffed too many of them fumes because she never really noticed that nobody else was in her conversation.

The pic has nothing to do with this post. I added it for those
 of you that won't read anything without a pic. You know who you are.
Some dude at work walked in wearing it and agreed to let me snap a pic.

 In the corner opposite door knob dude was a fidgety lady. Up and down, pacing and then back in her chair. All that fuss and all she had was a small nail in her tire. To me, the little tack they brought out to show her didn't seem big enough to penetrate a car tire but I don't know what size car she had. They were plugging it now and would bring the car around in a minute. As soon as she spotted her car she was out of there in a flash. I wasn't interested enough to stand up and see what the car was.
 "Don" opened the door and we all turned to look at him. He announced he was the shuttle service and the old dude sipping coffee at the high top table put his jacket on and followed him out. We all whimpered a little and went back into waiting mode.
 At the far end were two other gentlemen. One was busy with his coffee, cookie and newspaper, the other was loud phone conversation dude. He was buying stock online and was having problems navigating a web page. We were all so very impressed (not). Later,  I overheard him whining to the other guy about the lack of snow this year. He had to trailer his sled up north for the last three years to do any trail riding. The secretary chimed in and praised the lack of snow because that meant no shoveling her driveway. Funny how people look at the same snow so differently based on what they plan to do with it once it hits the ground. I want snow because it means work, and I like plowing.
 The door swung open again and the gal asked for Scott. I wanted to run to the door like the next contestant on "the price is right" but instead stood up slowly and looked around the room. That's right, I'm the chosen one. The others all put their heads down and whimpered a little.
 In the service department I was informed they put some dye in the front differential oil and wanted me to drive a few hundred miles. I would then bring the car back and they will use a black light to look for leaks. I asked what the point of this was as the differential is noisy and required more than fixing a leaked. I was asked to just let them go through the process, and that's what I'll do. Unfortunately that means another visit to the dog pound.

Later.