You Get What You Pay For
It’s early on a Saturday morning and I’m sitting in my local Hyundai dealer here in Baltimore having service done. There are stray kids scattered all through this place; some crying, some playing and others perusing through literature they clearly cannot decode. You know how some businesses merge like KFC and Taco Bell ; I think Hyundai just got in bed with Planned Parenthood. This shit is mind-boggling to me and I’m realizing that most Hyundai owners have large tribes for families. That’s why the only thing they can afford are these sweet ass Teal Elantras with the spoilers, “Hello Ladies! I teach Kindergarten, so I’m surrounded by little loin litter all week-long”. That being said, the last thing I wanted to be surrounded by at 8am in the morning is the cast of Blues Clues.
The cashier girl is speaking uncomfortably loud to only God knows whom about learning Russian. She just said these words exactly, “I go learn to speak Russia”. Don’t get me wrong, I have no issue with anyone attempting to expand his or her horizons to better themselves. My problem is this, how is your ignorant ass gonna learn to speak “Russia” when you clearly haven’t grasped “England’s” ass (aka English). I’m just getting started here, because right when I thought this place couldn’t become anymore annoying, it did. Why do service advisors type so damn hard, and with such rancor and indignation? It’s always with ONE finger and a WHOLE LOT of attitude. My service advisors typing is ringing out like “late night gunshots in a Chinese Carryout”. …And if he “Finds” one more thing wrong with my car, he’s gonna “Find” my foot in his ass. I bet that’s not covered under your power train warranty is it?
This place wouldn’t be as bad if they had complimentary refreshments or something to help distract you from being in a Hyundai waiting area, but they don’t. What makes this
hard for me is that I used to own an Acura, and I know the other world that exists in their waiting rooms. I can still see the plush area filled with a state of the art coffee/ cappuccino machine, assorted Otis Spunkmeyer muffins and fruit roll-ups out the ass. You hear me, out the ass… I used to get ankle massages as I had my oil changed and took Hot Yoga class in the main showroom… had to get my 3rd Chakra right as I waited.
It’s just now I’m realizing that when you buy a car, you’re not buying the car at all. You’re purchasing waiting room comfort level and your snacks for the next 10 years. Those $500 monthly car payments aren’t going to Acura, they’re going to the “apricot scone fund”. Acura money will get you Acura snacks. Hyundai money will get you 21-MPG city/31- MPG highway, and maybe a J.D. Power & Associates review if you’re lucky and up to date on your tithes & offerings. Who the hell is J.D. Power anyway? And why will he never disclose his associates? Where I’m from we call that a “Cover-up”. He sounds like a prominent pornography director… “From the maker of the critically acclaimed Asses Galore comes Galore of Asses- a J.D. Power & Associates Film- under 18 not admitted”.
Sorry about that, I got siphoned off into the dark recesses of my mind for a moment, it happens sometimes. I guess the point I’m attempting to make here is this; there is no point. But if you happen to find one, please feel free to contact me directly. Goodbye…