Oh God. Where do we start? All I wanted was my oil gauge sensor fixed and some new windshield wipers.
What did I get? Hot Chick behind the counter fills me on on her psycho "Karen" neighbor and the property line battles in their uppity section of Suamico. Must be nice. I can't afford a log house like Hot Chick has, can you? I'm trying to hold a 320,000-mile Trailblazer together with baling wire and I have to listen to Hot Chick tell me about her Stepford Wives property line battles at their mansions. To make matters worse I had to sit in the lobby with two 70-year-old-plus musicians talking about playing "bee bop music". At that point I was hoping Hot Chick had an ice pick I could jam into my temple. It would have been less painful than that whole experience.
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