Soggy panties, and not in a good way

[vanillafluffy]

Let me tell you about my 4th of July!

I had to work. At time and a half, that's not a terrible thing. The fact that I was scheduled to come in an hour later seemed like a Good Thing, but in fact, meant that I was the last one there. Which meant I had to handle multiple fucktards who were under the assumption that I could stretch the rules on a promo that ended at 11:59 PM, period. (Freakin' Pelts Leathermore and their freakin' promos anyway!) The final jagoff screwed my handle time to a fare-thee-well.

When I got outside, it was sprinkling. I'd forgotten my umbrella inside, and was NOT in the mood to retrace my steps and go back for it. (And it DAMN well better still be there Friday!) So I head down Babcock to US1, same as I do every night, and then shudder-shudder-shudder---my right rear tire goes out.

Gee, a flat tire in the rain at 12:45 AM on a major holiday---with no umbrella! Go, me!

Lights came toward me; it was a sweeper truck, and the guy driving was *totally* a Bobby type. He got out and changed the tire for me as the rain increased from sprinkling to a modest downpour. (Modest in Florida terms: it was raining minnows, not marlin.)

I noticed while he was doing this that he was wearing Butch Boots, which gave me something to make small talk about. He was the kind of customer I love to talk to, because he loves the product. He said he's tried other boots but we're the best. He says when he puts them on, it's like they're already broken in. So I'm thinking...I know his first name, and I got the phone number of the company from the door of the truck...maybe I can arrange to send him a gift card to defray the cost of his next pair. It's the least I can do for such a gallant gentleman!

Being blonde, I left the driver's door ajar during all this, so when I got in, the seat was wet. Swell. I was fairly damp already---by the time I got home, ick. Soggy bottomed...and I just know the car is gonna smell like a terrarium as it dries. Lucky me!

Drove the rest of the way home between 40-45---if it's quiet at midnight, it's dead at 1 AM---and tomorrow, I get to go hunt up a new tire, because riding around on the donut is NOT an option.

You want to hear the strange thing? I'm more annoyed by the doofus who messed up my handle time than I was by the tire incident. A year ago, I would've had full-on hysterics at the thought of driving after midnight, period. Driving back from Melbourne after midnight on the donut in the rain? Forget it, you'd've had to sedate me! Now? *shrug* Business as usual. Crown me Miss Mental Health, 2007....

Comments

[ultraviolet9a.livejournal.com]

Bobby types are love. Yes, they are. I'm glad he helped you out. And woman, your timing? It wasn't one of your good days, was it?

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

Bobby types are love. Yes, they are.
Uh-huh... *happy sigh*

I'm glad he helped you out.
Instead of shooting me with rock salt?

And woman, your timing? It wasn't one of your good days, was it?
The umbrella business was just *infuriating*. Guess I won't be so damned lazy next time!

[ultraviolet9a.livejournal.com]

You're not a ghost, are ye? No rocksalt. :)

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

*looks in mirror and takes inventory: Ghost of Pizzas Past, Ghost of Oreos Past, Ghost of Fried Chicken Past, Ghost of Ben and Jerry's Pistachio Pistachio...*

[ultraviolet9a.livejournal.com]

Muhahahaha! :)

[pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com]

I love how you categorize the men you meet as "Bobby types" or "JDM types." Heh!

Bobby types are the salt of the earth. :)

Sorry about the many frustrations, but it sounds like, all in all, you handled everything great. And that's something to be proud of.

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

I love how you categorize the men you meet as "Bobby types" or "JDM types." Heh!
I think it's darned interesting that I'm meeting that type! Okay, so the JDM type (who, incidentally, never called) left something to be desired, but last night's rescuer had it going on, right down to the gimme cap.

Bobby types are the salt of the earth.
Yeah, I'm just glad this one was doing his thing down in my end of the world last night, instead of off hunting things in North Dakota.

Sorry about the many frustrations, but it sounds like, all in all, you handled everything great. And that's something to be proud of.
Thanks. Of course, right now, I'm pricing replacement tires---I know if one goes you really ought to replace both---and eyeing my bank balance and muttering....

[adventurat.livejournal.com]

So glad you had a knight in shining headlights come to your aid. (Flat tire in the rain, middle of the night, public holiday - ye gods!)

Slightly OT: Because of you, I find myself trying to guess the brand names of your nicknames. Think I've worked out Le Snobbi, Posh Brits, and Trendicrap, but Pelts Leatherware is mystifying me...

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

I find myself trying to guess the brand names of your nicknames. Think I've worked out Le Snobbi, Posh Brits, and Trendicrap, but Pelts Leatherware is mystifying me...

Posh Brits is easy enough---there's really only one British company that's made that kind of name for itself over the last 150 years. In fact, they and Tasteful Lady were the only companies whose names I recognized when I stared there. And while some of the callers may be a handful, the company itself is outstanding. I *wish* I could afford some of their products; the samples make me drool every time.

Le Snobbi is a lot more nouveau riche---another 80's success story. We'll see where they are in another 125 years. The merchandise is beautifully made---maybe even on a par with Posh Brits---but while the Brits may be selective, the Snobbis are downright bitches. (The rare guy callers I've had were invariably buying for a girlfriend. Or so they claimed.)

Trendicrap...isn't quite as cheesy as the monicker suggests. It's aimed at the teen market, and in every training, we're asked to name their competition: they're one of a half-dozen similar companies. (I'd never heard of them before I started this job, because they don't make anything remotely approaching my size. I'd go postal in a good way if we ever got the Avenue or Torrid or B and Lu or any decent plus-size vendor.)

The real name of Pelts Leathermore does contain the word leather, but the rest of it is a lot more generic. (But I've already got Brand X jeans as a nickname, and "House-brand Leather" would completely distract all the Hugh fangirls on my f'list....)

I hate to have to be so cryptic, but I've got a healthy paranoia about being fired over something my corporate masters perceive to be derogatory. The fact is, evil commute aside, I really like this job most of the time. I've had MUCH crappier jobs for way less money; I'd hate to be on the job market again over something I said.

[adventurat.livejournal.com]

I completely understand your discretion, and I think it's wise. Naming names isn't necessary, really, and using pseudonyms is another layer of separation between you and your online peeps.

Mind you, if I ever call to place an order and get a southern belle who calls herself your real name, I will be hard-pressed not to ask "is that Vanillafluffy? Hey, it's Adventurat!"

Wonder what the call monitors would make of that!

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

If she's calling herself by my real name and she's NOT Vanillafluffy, she's in big trouble! ;)

As long as nobody googles "vanillafluffy", it's all good. (But if you do, and hit "I feel lucky", you WILL get moi....)

[karaokegal.livejournal.com]

Awwwwww...baby! I'm torn between giving you the redvine icon or the hug, but I'm going for the hug.

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

*snuggles* Thanks for the hug. Next to having Jools engage in some blackmail/arm-twisting/extortion to get the county off my back about the lawn, I can't think of anything nicer right now!

[karaokegal.livejournal.com]

We'll have to see if any of the County Commissioners have a few secrets in a dossier somewhere. Of the all the unbelievable bureaucratic dung to have to deal with.

[socialhermit.livejournal.com]

Yaaaaaaaay for gentlemen! It's nice to know chivalry AIN'T dead. :-)

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

I'm having warm fuzzies and chivalry is just the word for it, cuzz I feel protected, which is very nice. I can/have change(d) a tire, but it would've taken me four times as long---and I have no doubt my temper would've been in shreds.

[teresa-c.livejournal.com]

Oh, my word. Flat tire middle of night rainstorm. Of such are nightmares made!

Glad it worked out!

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

Thanks to my Knight in the gimme cap, it was an inconvenience, but not horrible. No, A#1 hands-down horrible still goes to transmission death 100 miles from home in a convertible in 40-degree weather. That was the end of Leroy, my lovely '71 Buick, the last really COOL car I owned....

[sbjb.livejournal.com]

Was that the one when I drove up to Duh Beach and used my AAA card to tow you home?

Long memory, me? (In fact, any memory? Me?) Nah...

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

That's it! Dr Bizarre and I went to a concert---I don't even remember who anymore---and the tranny kicked the bucket in the wee hours on the way home. Ended up stranded in Ormond Beach. Only good thing about any of it was that there was a Dunkin Donuts a block or so away that I hit for breakfast after spending the night freezing my noogies off.