Maybe it's Me!

Maybe it is me.  The last ten days have proven to be challenging in the humaning department.  Interacting with others.  Playing well in the sandbox.  When I have one or two odd encounters, I chalk it up to an anomaly.  But when I have a steady stream of odd encounters, I have to wonder:  Is it me?

The first was with my daughter.  As a mom, the words "I want to talk to you" can strike fear.  They sound innocuous enough, but history has taught me to take a breath and wait for the onslaught.  I won't get into details here out of privacy and respect.  But here is a word to the wise.  Never start a conversation with me using the word 'expectation".  Just sayin'.

Last Monday I was meeting a friend in LiDo.  That is a moniker that has never caught on. Here in the Denver Metro, we all know RiNo and LoDo, HiLo and whatever other fancy pants name a hipster coined.  LiDo is Littleton, downtown.  I guess DoLi sounded even worse.  I arranged my swimming to be timely and geographically close to our rendezvous.  I like Buck Recreation Center, they have a three-lane lap pool, a warm water therapy pool and a year-round outdoor hot tub.  They also have a leisure pool with a lazy river that is quite swift.  The last time I went in there I was facing backwards and guiding my granddaughter and whacked my head against the tiles with no warning.  So, for this blog and in the interest of my physical safety, let's not mention the not so lazy river.

I have the same routine; laps first, then into the warm water for stretching and a general feel good for my body, then the outdoor hot tub.  I was in there minding my own business (note to self:  should have continued that behavior).  Out comes a woman with a cadre of kids.  A couple of whom jump into the hot tub, messing with my Zen.  Two little boys were running around the concrete patio and letting all of Littleton be aware of their presence.  A/K/A they were loud.  I was happy to be almost done and hoping that I would not meet them again in the locker room.

One of the boys came up to this lady, I am not sure she was mom as no one called her by any name and asked if he could pick the dandelions.  Newly yellow and straining for the sun.  Coincidentally I had just heard an NPR story on these misnamed weeds and how important they are to bees as the season's first pollinators.  And as life would have it I couldn't help myself and felt the need to inform this woman that the dandelions are first pollinators and bees need them and perhaps picking them isn't such a good idea.  Like I said, I could not resist, and I think I also mentioned I should have minded my own beeswax.

She quickly informed me that she knows what pollination is and that - and I quote - "I am not digging your hyper-agro vibe right now".  Lucky for her I forgot for a moment I am from The Bronx and decided a hearty guffaw would be a sufficient reply.  BTW - I exited the area and did not see her and those climate affecting children again.

Two days later I was on Hanukkah Hill (take that millennials) partaking in an art project.  It doesn't matter where I was (JCC), or who was the sponsor (KAVOD) or who ideated the Art Box (DAM).  What matters is that I was sitting at a table with two other women following instructions and trying to open this box of Monet inspired supplies that could easily have withstood a nuclear explosion.  I was wielding my scissors and cutting through the flowered packing tape when a woman burst through the doors in the back and declared "I'm Late!".  I resisted the urge to inform her that this is not an airport and there is no need to announce her arrival.

The facilitator waved her over to my table and she took her place between me and an older lady who couldn't manage to open her box.  I asked her if she needed help and when she said yes, I started to make my way over to her.  As I went to grab my scissors the tardy tart grabbed them out from under me and announced that her shears were dull and did not open widely enough.  I ignored her, and helped this other lady, while surreptitiously reclaiming my scissors.  As I sat back down and placed the snippers on the table they were reclaimed with an announcement that she was not done with them yet.  It is very important for you to know I kept my mouth shut.  I didn't tell her the rules of the airport are different than the rules of craft class.  I didn't tell her she was loud and in my space and could have cut me while grabbing the scissors.  I kept my mouth shut.

I have a Yeti cup that keeps my drink cold all day.  It is not the kind with a screw-off cap, but just a press on lid with a little hole for sipping.  This woman grabbed my yeti - bear paw style - and moved it across the table.  I was a decent germophobe before COVID, and a border line OCD'er now.  Again, I did not say one word.  I just quietly cursed her grubby hands all over where my pursed lips would go.  I took a breath because I know I have a backup water in the car.  I reasoned with myself that there is no point in saying anything because the deed is done, cannot be undone and what would the point be?  This woman could be mentally challenged (there's my compassion!), or socially awkward (ya think?) or just in complete oblivion.  I did however move my cup closer to me because at thirty dollars a pop, one must keep an eye on such possessions.  As I did so she said, “You know, that was in my way".  OK, higher power.  If this was a test of my patience this was where I failed.  I retorted that I did not need her hands on my cup, where I drink from.  I was as nice as I could be.  I didn't curse or raise my voice or let loose the string of expletives that were swirling in my brain.

She became huffy and once again announced her departure.  This time from our formerly cozy table for three to an empty one behind us.  She said things like she knows where she is not welcome and don't worry about her.  She picked up her marbles and went home.  Again, I refrained from comment.  You know how old people are sometimes hard of hearing?  This abrupt departure was a surprise to my companions, and I thought it best to just shrug my shoulders in lieu of an explanation.  After all - the speaker was speaking this whole time.

I bet you thought that was the end of it.  I hoped so as well.  Our capable facilitator noticed a lone table sitter, asked the ladies name, and invited her to move up and join the others.  Just like Mrs. Hoffman, my kindergarten teacher would have done almost six decades ago.  I can be obedient when I need to be.  This was one of those times.  I sat rigidly in my chair and looked nowhere except straight ahead of me.  And then came the tirade "Considering the present circumstances, I think it is best I sit alone.  Back here.  At my own table".  and I could not have agreed more!

Next up was an oil change, tire rotation and alignment at my local service shop.  I liked that I could wait and get some writing done in their lobby area.  Also, they have good snacks.  The oil change was uneventful,  The tire things?  Not so much.  Apparently there is a wheel lock key that is unique to each car and a necessity to get the tires taken care of.  I had my tires rotated about a year ago at the dealer and they forgot to put the blasted thing back in my car.  So, I thanked the local place, cursed the dealership, and went on my merry way.  Once home, I called the service department of Hyundai expecting a confrontation of sorts - like not their fault - must be my problem kind of thing.  But Joe was really nice and said it happens all the time and come in and they will give me a new one.  What?  Something free from the dealership?  Since they were doing me a solid, I scheduled to just have the whole tire thing done there.

Here's an aside.  They take their time at the dealership, but do provide complimentary Lyft rides to and from,  I dropped off my car and waited for a stranger to invite me in their car.  I hoped they would have candy.  When the Lyft arrived, I asked the driver to please wear a mask, whereupon I was informed that masks don't work and COVID is a hoax.  I took that deep breath that I am getting really good at and responded that I was not there for medical advice or political opinions.  I just needed a ride by a masked motorist.  He complied and I took the ride.

Back to the car...  I picked up said vehicle that afternoon and it drove like crap.  Pulling to the right and grinding.  But I needed the car first thing the next morning for a doctor's appointment - who would want to miss an endoscopy? So, I made an appointment to bring it in later the next afternoon.  My daughter drove me in my car and the word she used to describe the way it felt was dragging.  Pulling, grinding and dragging.  Not the three words I would choose to describe how a car should drive after a simple tire rotation and alignment. 

After a bit the dealership called to tell me that the alignment checked out fine on two machines and they were stymied.  OK.  They would need my car for a few days to investigate.  Not OK.  I asked about a loaner, and did you know they are in short supply?  I said - hey - how is this my fault that an alignment goes awry and now I will be without a car for days with company coming?  Oh - and I had another doctor's appointment the next day and needed a vehicle.  We decided I would pick up my misbehaved car and return it the next afternoon. On the ride over to get my car, I thought  "What next?"  I arrived at the dealership and my advisor was notified of my presence.  I waited and waited to see my car come around the front.  I stepped outside and spied Joe and another man in the far parking lot looking at the back driver's side of my car.  Joe started walking back and the mystery man hopped in to drive.  I am intuitive, but it doesn't take a psychic to know something was going on.

Joe got to me first and told me that when he went to pull my car out of the narrow spot it had been wedged in to, he scraped the abutting vehicle.  "Oh!"  I said aloud.  "That is what happens next."  No yelling, no name calling.  Just another one of those very deep breaths I was perfecting.

My car pulled up and I learned the valet was the  service manager. I grabbed him and said something like I never would have even come to the dealership for a tire rotation and alignment but had to because they jacked my wheel key, and now my car drives like crap, and what if I'd had a flat in the last year and had been unable to change my tire off and why do they need my car for days? And now I need four tires and bodywork!  And dammit! Where is my loaner?

Whew.  To be clear, I never raised my voice or accused them of purposely messing up my Elantra.  I'd been poorly peopling all week and wanted to have a change of attitude.  I had been asking my higher power for patience - not to test my patience.  All in all, I was better behaved than my car. Keith said they'd fix the body damage on their dime (duh), and miraculously a loaner appeared and off I went!  Good thing because I had a stress test first thing the next morning.  You cannot make this kind of stuff it.

Keith, the service manager called me after my time on the treadmill and told me it was two bad tires.  That I never would have noticed this because when they were on the rear of the car they remained in a fixed position,  On the front they moved and that is what caused the pulling and growling.  Great - another word to describe the problem.  He said I would need four new tires, and another alignment.  After an amateur interrogation by me, Keith acknowledged that 26,000 miles on tires that were guaranteed for fifty was a fluke.  Lo and behold, he admitted that both of these tires had a broken 'cord' and were thereby defective.  He also mentioned that these were a brand people bought when they wanted a cheap(er) brand.

Well, Keith I said...  I bought those tires at your dealership on your service advisors recommendation.  Why did they tell me to buy inferior tires?  And do you know what else?  I want you to go to bat for me with the distributor and advocate for me, because obviously I can't call them myself.  And really, Keith, why did the service technician rotate obviously damaged tires back onto my car - you yourself said there was a noticeable bulge - and maybe you need to have a staff meeting on safety and integrity and all like that.  I have a loaner so take your time, Keith.  Call the distributor, educate your staff, advocate for me, the woman who HAD to come in for a key and leave with four new tires and a big fat bill.

It took two days, but Keith came through.  I got four new tires, gratis.  A different brand.  I was relieved when Keith called and told me my car was ready and it was no charge.  I gleefully drove up Broadway thinking my spate of dealing with people was over for a good long time.  After all, what could possibly happen next?

I don't want to jinx myself but stay tuned!