Oh, Jiffy Lube, thou silver-tongued devil.

The oil light started flicking on and off on my dashboard last week. Since I'm about one month and one thousand miles over the recommendation, this makes perfect sense.

So after work yesterday, I took my car into Jiffy Lube, for their signature service, and so they could vacuum up my corn chips.

All I wanted was the thirty-one dollar signature service. No frills. No engine clean-ups. Nothing. I tried to steel my mind against the Jiffy Lube guy who would undoubtedly come out of the garage into the less than cozy waiting room and inform me that rodents were living in my filters and hadn't I better get that fixed (this has actually happened before)?

Anyway, I'm sitting in the waiting room, trying to finish reading Kierkegaard's Sickness Unto Death (which deserves a post all of its own), when the service guy wanders out.

SG: Miss Yates?
I look up. I am the only person in the waiting room, as everyone else gets off work at five.
Me: Yes?
SG: Alright, we BLAH BLAH BLAH topped off all your fluids BLAH BLAH BLAH sludge in the oil BLAH BLAH BLAH clean engine.
The service guy is using props that I know I am supposed to believe are from my car. And sure enough, everything looks rather sludgy. I think to myself 'No! I will not give in. Just the signature service! Just the signature service!' Instead, I say...
Me: Well, how much would that all cost?
SG: BLAH BLAH BLAH twenty-four dollars BLAH BLAH BLAH fifty-seven.
Me: Oh, well I can't afford that right now. I guess I'll just have to get it done next time.
I think to myself 'Yes! Perfect excuse. Home free.'
SG: Are you sure? BLAH BLAH BLAH really important BLAH BLAH how your car runs BLAH BLAH BLAH only twenty-four dollars BLAH
Me: Fine.
Damn.
Me: But that's it.
SG: But if you just replace this valve BLAH BLAH BLAH entire engine BLAH BLAH.
I acknowledge to myself that I will never single handedly defeat the evil that is Jiffy Lube
Me: (resignedly) How much is that?
SG: Ten dollars.
Me: Fine.
Fine
SG: Thank you. It'll take about ten more minutes.
I return to Kierkegaard, feeling that Jiffy Lube and NOT despair, is the true 'sickness unto death'.

I think that perhaps, in the future, Jiffy Lube should be dealt with in the same manner as a creepy man in a bar.

"No, I cannot have a drink with you. My BOYFRIEND will be here any minute."

Me: No, I cannot buy that useless car procedure from you. My BOYFRIEND will be here any minute.
SG: (backing slowly towards the garage)Oh, well perhaps the BLAH BLAH BLAH can wait for next time, when you come in here totally alone.
Me: Perhaps. We will have to see.