I walked out of the office…

...on Friday feeling all righteous, like a brother of the new corporate renaissance. Then Hellboy’s mom, who had taken my car for an oil change, told me the engine was running funny. I lifted the hood to find that the air filter compartment was unattached and rattling around on top of the engine, screws everywhere, minus the air filter. My ignorance in automotive mechanics and my concern for driving a vehicle not knowing if there was anything else awry led me to get on the phone with “Dave the Owner”, who suspiciously knew what car I was talking about before I said anything. I ended the call with telling Dave I will see him and his dismissive “just-bring-it-back-down-here” attitude first thing in the morning.

Holding my morning coffee, I respectfully walked into the station and presented Dave with my argument: “You did not perform the requested service in a satisfactory manner. Then you accepted a thirty dollar payment knowing that the car had a semi-assembled engine without a word of warning. I want my car fixed, money refunded, and to be reimbursed for my time spent to come back here and resolve this problem.”

Dave, who stood at the counter like a middle-aged white over-weight walrus, presented his non-apologetic excuse: “We didn’t have an air-filter to fit your car and my mechanic forgot to put the parts back together. It was his mistake. Being Friday and everything he just spaced it.” Followed by his counter offer: “I won't refund your money, but I’ll give you the new air filter, a $29.00 value (really $4.00 at AutoZone), for free.” Taking his attitude, lack of honesty, and my general disgust for dude’s "early-morning-just-came-from-the-bar" personal hygiene I told him his offer was unacceptable, which led Dave to try and engage me in a debate.

Bad move.

He obviously didn’t realize that I’m the type of guy who feels confident enough to walk into a wake and argue with the family of the recently deceased to whether or not their loved one was just sleeping. In fact, it's something that I kinda enjoy. So, after a few of Dave’s poorly structured scenarios and what-if’s he got a little frustrated at hearing me shoot holes in his flawed reasoning and attempted to attack my character. He said some sh*t like my name was Petey Punk Brownfield. And at that point, when he decided to get personal, I decided to show more resolve than certain occupying military forces in desert lands. I wasn’t goin’ anyplace, no matter how many confused customers came in, or how many mechanics he had stand around me, or how heated it got. He just ordered the MisterChris extra beef combo and I was willing to super-size it for free.

Twenty-minutes after I initially walked in, I walked out with what I wanted. Although, it didn’t come from a mutual agreement, admission of accountability, or even an apology. It came from me pulling Dave aside saying the equivalent of, “If you don’t give me the f*ckin’ money you stole from her...plus what I want...I am going to be that ‘angry Black man who’s quick to serve your slick mouth up in the parking lot’.”

Now here I am back at the office where I walked out last Friday feeling like a corporate champion. And I realize it only takes someone like Dave to drag you back down into sh*t. And unfortunately the landscape of my life is littered with "Daves".

Instead of the steak I was going to eat on Friday I ended up eating a hamburger. Which I also enjoy, but in all honestly, I'd rather eat steak. Possibly next time.