|Image credit: www.joseluizalmeida.com|
My tolerance for bull**** was at an all-time low yesterday afternoon as I parked my car a block away from the Spanish bank branch where I was sure to have a non-helpful customer service experience. It wasn't my car, actually, but the monster truck that belongs to my husband. Large, old, bullet-proofed, scratched, dinged.
As I parked the car, the rain started and that of course annoyed me because I had left my umbrella at the house. So as I closed the door, and made a run for the bank, a man stepped in front of me and said "can I watch your car?" Yes, a flanelinha, the guys that made me spout off crabbiness in another blog last year. I looked at him with the "wtf?" face that sometimes works and said "ummm, it's bullet-proof but if you want to watch it, feel free."
After having the expected annoying customer service experience with the Spanish señores, I came back out into a light mist of rain. As I came close to the car, the man approached me. I couldn't resist the following remarks:
Me: "So was the car okay?"
Flanelinha: "Oh yes."
Me: "Did anyone approach it?"
Flanelinha: "No, Senhora"
Me: "So it was all okay over here?"
Me: "Well, great. I'm glad you were here watching out for my car."
And I gave him 50 cents. And so much sarcasm, the rain was dripping with it.
Hate this. But then I'm just having one of those bad days.