This morning I took the VW in for the 90-day-check. The only thing worse than going to a car dealership to buy a car is going to get one serviced. They really try to sell you on how great the service package is going to be, how clean the waiting room is, free coffee, friendly service. I’ve never found any of these promises to be true. Usually the waiting rooms are dirty and cramped. The magazines are outdated or guy-centered. Seriously, what does a girl have to do to get a copy of People magazine?

Also, if you’re going to have coffee a little half and half would be nice.

I had high hopes for the VW service center. The dealership also sells Porshe’s, Audi’s, and Infiniti. I figured the clientele was at least as snotty as I am.

Almost immediately I knew I was wrong. The clerk, who was probably 23-years-old called me sweetie. Don’t. Just don’t do that. It makes me feel weird, then it makes me angry. He told me the 90-day-check was going to take 30 minutes and putting on an engine block warmer (which was supposed to have been done when we bought the car) would take another 40 minutes.

That’s 10 minutes longer than I expected it to take, but I let it pass.

I also asked him to look at the arm rest in the second row seat. It’s all wonky. He agreed, it’s way lower than the other seat and said he would have them check it.

I went to the waiting room. It was cramped and Headline News was on the television. Why would they set the TV on Headline News? It’s the same stories every 30 minutes. No one gets out of a car service station in less than 30 minutes. Since it took a full hour longer than I originally anticipated I had to watch the same ridiculous story about life-saving hair bows four times.

I wish I was kidding about that story. Apparently there are lots of head injuries caused by dangerous hair ties. I can’t believe Nancy Grace hasn’t done a special on it yet. (I’m adding this to my list of reasons I’m glad I have three boys and only one girl.)

But the worst part was the guy who kept taking off his shoes. The very best thing about Alaska is that most of the time people keep their feet under a thick layer of wool socks and waterproof shoes. As someone with a serious feet aversion, it makes me very happy.

Even though it’s only 50 degrees, it’s summer here. Most people are compelled to wear flip-flops and sandals. I do it too (but only with a proper pedicure) and I don’t mind it most of the time. (Unless you’re a guy with hairy toes – please stop making me look at them.) But this guy…this guy had seriously gross feet.

And he kept taking off his sandals. I tried to focus on blog reading, but it was no use. My eyes were continually drawn back to his crusty skin and curled up, yellow toenails.

I did the only thing I coud do – texted Christin and complained about him.

I mean really, what’s the point of buying an overpriced vehicle if I have to stare at nasty feet? I could have done that at Kia.

Of course, he and I were the last vehicles finished – so I had to stare at his feet for more than two hours. When he left he said goodbye and good luck to me. It made me feel bad about making fun of his feet via text. Christin said he knew I was talking bad about him. She’s probably right, he seemed a little shifty – like he was using Jedi mind tricks to read my thoughts.

When the car was finally done Mr. ICallOldLadiesSweetie told me there was nothing wrong with the armrest in the middle row. He said it’s supposed to be like that, so it’s comfortable when you lay the seat back. I guess it’s only comfortable in one of the seats and not the other – since they are different. I’m pretty sure they didn’t even look at it.

When I worked in Theatre we did stuff like that all the time. Patrons would complain about it being too cold and I’d so, “Oh ok, I’ll take care of that for you!” Then I wouldn’t do anything. That’s what they did with the armrest.

I hate car dealerships. Almost as much as feet.