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I covered the remedial counter for about 20 minutes today. My tangent of fate crossed with douchenozzle streams.
I love cars. LOOOOVVVVEEEE them, hence my user name. I hate other car guys. It's kind of sad, really, but here's my reason:
They all think that because they think that a certain car or style of car(rat rod, barf/ 55-57 Chevy, played out/ any year Camaro, ubiquitous) is cool, everyone else automatically does. That would be incorrect. Thanks for playing. Not trying to insult anyone who likes any of the cars I mentioned, but not everyone likes them the same way. Deal with it.
I had a couple of "old school" car guys with the played out variety of hot rod(57 Chevy, how I'm apathetic to thee) come in today and ask a series of questions about a crate engine that GM just released. It's an aluminum block 427. Fine, questions are cool, they help in the buying process, especially when the engine in question is about $9000 estimated, Chevy hasn't even released pricing on it yet. I do my homework too.
They then drop a 5 pound sledge on my head: "Yeah, we're your real customers. To hell with all these asses driving new Chevy's. We're the real deal."
And why is that, you ask? Because they have enthusiasm. Right. I asked him what his newest Chevy/GM vehicle was. A 1960. As in Nineteen-Fucking-Sixty. Older than me.
OK, ass. You're my real customer base, as opposed to the people who drive new cars and come in for oil changes and warranty work and wiper blades and broken widgets and what-all-else. Those people are my paycheck, my proverbial bread-and-butter. You, with your possibility of buying a crate motor, are my "wouldn't it be nice if". I can't pay the power bill with that. Don't insult me with your mental masturbation.
I don't get paid on enthusiasm. If I did, I'd be a millionaire already.
Sorry if I sound a little too irritated by these douches, but their pompous asshattery was enough to piss me off for the rest of the day.
END RANT.
I love cars. LOOOOVVVVEEEE them, hence my user name. I hate other car guys. It's kind of sad, really, but here's my reason:
They all think that because they think that a certain car or style of car(rat rod, barf/ 55-57 Chevy, played out/ any year Camaro, ubiquitous) is cool, everyone else automatically does. That would be incorrect. Thanks for playing. Not trying to insult anyone who likes any of the cars I mentioned, but not everyone likes them the same way. Deal with it.
I had a couple of "old school" car guys with the played out variety of hot rod(57 Chevy, how I'm apathetic to thee) come in today and ask a series of questions about a crate engine that GM just released. It's an aluminum block 427. Fine, questions are cool, they help in the buying process, especially when the engine in question is about $9000 estimated, Chevy hasn't even released pricing on it yet. I do my homework too.
They then drop a 5 pound sledge on my head: "Yeah, we're your real customers. To hell with all these asses driving new Chevy's. We're the real deal."
And why is that, you ask? Because they have enthusiasm. Right. I asked him what his newest Chevy/GM vehicle was. A 1960. As in Nineteen-Fucking-Sixty. Older than me.
OK, ass. You're my real customer base, as opposed to the people who drive new cars and come in for oil changes and warranty work and wiper blades and broken widgets and what-all-else. Those people are my paycheck, my proverbial bread-and-butter. You, with your possibility of buying a crate motor, are my "wouldn't it be nice if". I can't pay the power bill with that. Don't insult me with your mental masturbation.
I don't get paid on enthusiasm. If I did, I'd be a millionaire already.
Sorry if I sound a little too irritated by these douches, but their pompous asshattery was enough to piss me off for the rest of the day.
END RANT.
). On any given day I would field a couple of calls from some grassroots drag race douche who wanted sponsorship for his 15-second Mustang or whatever. Never mind that our catalog had specific instructions on how to apply for sponsorship, calling the commissioned salesperson is a surefire way to 
(for the car impaired, that's two different pieces altogether)
I AM the evil bastard!
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