Thursday, October 11, 2012

I thought I saw a zombie this morning on my way to get an oil change

I drive a 2002 Honda Accord 4 Door Sedan.  I know.  Boring.  Predictable.  I imagine the actuarial guys playing little games about typical people like me.

“So Bob, My buddy ‘Fred’”, Joe starts the game, feet up on his desk, bouncing a little red rubber ball off the near wall.

“Please Joe, could you at least come up with a more realistic name,” Bob pleads.  Bob works for Joe.  Bob is the brightest stats man Joe has seen in his 40 years of generalizing people.  Bob has the cocksure attitude that comes with the lethal combination of youth and genius.

“Kid’s got no fear.  He whips out correct statistical answers to my scenarios like nobody I seen.  Kind of reminds me of a young me.  Sniff,” Joe  would often say.  Joe knew painfully well how costly a mistake could be.  That’s why he insisted on these scenarios, “You can never be too sharp, kid,”

“More realistic name?  You mean like ‘Bob or ‘Joe’” Joe countered.  So the old man still had it after all.

“Touche.  Continue,” Bob submitted.

“Job Title,” Joe wasn’t wasting any time this morning.

“Software Engin … Wait.  How old is he?” Bob quickly realized his near mistake.

“Careful Bob.  You don’t want to lose this easy.  He’s 47.  Turns 48 at the end of this month.”

“Ok, Senior Software Engineer,” Bob answered with a bit of a suppressed fake yawn, digging at his thumbnail with a fingernail.

“Car,” If Bob missed an answer there were no more questions.  It would be time for him to go hit the books and see where he went wrong.

“Did The New Numbers come in?”  Bob asked nonchalantly as if changing the subject.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” came Joe’s smug response.

“ Doesn't matter to me at all.  2002 Honda Accord.  Silver,” said Bob taking off a loafer to rub the arch of his left foot. 

It just seems so effortless, Joe thought.  I think that’s the most amazing part.  His presentation.  Let’s see how he deals with my little surprise.

“The New Numbers,” they were talking about was an electronic document that was published every 4 weeks or so.  It contained any changes to any demographic imaginable.  Companies like Bob and Joe’s would integrate this information into their systems for all of their important calculations and business related things and stuff.  It was really professional.

Every once in a while, something strange would show up.  Maybe 2 or 3 times a year, one item would seem so off base that it had to be a mistake.  It usually was.  This time, however, Joe had received “The New Numbers” and personally verified the accuracy one of the strangest tidbits he’d seen in the whole of his 40 years as a big time hotshot actuarial guy.

“Shop or Dealer,” Joe knew these were too easy.  He was baiting the kid.  He noticed thankfully that the kid was getting suspicious.

“Come on Joe.  It’s me.  Bob,” Bob said, only to get a blank stare from Joe.

“Stalling?”  Attaboy Joe.  Accuse him of not being able to answer the easy ones. 

With an exasperated sigh, Bob answered Joe’s pedantic question, “Shop.  Exclusive Honda Repair of Omaha.  Scheduled maintenance at the change of the season,  blah blah blah.  C’mon Joe.  What is this?”

“Zombies?”, there it is kid.  Take that one.

The blood ran from Bob’s face.  Bob had a way of memorizing facts that was similar to a filing system.  When he was asked any of these questions he would simply visualize going to the appropriate drawer and retrieving the information he was asked.  Years of doing this, and it appeared as magic to the untrained eye.  But now, he was at a loss.  He did not understand the question.  In the split second from the time Joe said the word ‘Zombies’ to when Bob dropped his loafer, he had imagined going to a file drawer called ‘Zombie’.  There wasn’t one though.  He truly needed more information.

“I’m afraid I don’t …” Bob started.

Pretending his patience was being tried, Joe calmly restated his obscure question, “Does ‘Fred’ believe in zombies?”

What kind of trick is this?  The old man’s got something.  Think.  He’s been baiting me.  What is it?  The Auto Shop?  Zombies?  Oh well.  Whatever.  I’m tired of this game, “No, Of course not.  No Zombies.  That doesn't even make any sense.  He also doesn't believe in Vampires despite all of the blogging evidence to the contrary.  Nor does he believe in the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus for that matter.  Where you going with this, Joe?”  Bob was having a difficult time coping with this new feeling.  He was able to identify it in a mental file cabinet called ‘Disoriented’.

“In answer to one of your earlier questions Bob, yes, ‘The New Numbers’ came in,” Joe said with a touch of a grin.  He was really getting a kick out of this.  Then he reached over to push the button on his archaic intercom thing and said into it, “Marilyn, would you show Renaud in, please …”

~~~

From time to time, under certain conditions and for the briefest of scary moments, I might be tricked into believing I’m seeing a Zombie uprising before reason has a chance to intervene.  I know this because that's what happened this morning as I pulled into a parking space at Exclusive Honda Repair.  

On Tuesday, I called the shop and explained that I needed to bring my car in for an oil change and to talk about some things including whether or not it’s worth making certain costly repairs.  I plan on trading the car in for a new one in a few months and wanted to know if Mabel (My Car’s name that I gave it just now) could get by for a few months without doing any of the maintenance.

“Yeah sure, we can check it out for you.  How’s Thursday Morning work,” the nice Honda repairman asked.

“Thursday’s perfect,” I cheerfully shot back.  Those Exclusive Honda guys always put me in a good mood.  But something seemed different as the phone call continued.

“Brains?” Said the Repairman, whose name is Jim.

“Hmm?  What?”  I said.  Totally confused.

“Name?” repeated the repairman/potential Zombie.

“Oh, huh huh.  Cube.  Fred Cube.  I thought you said …”

“Will you be waiting here or dropping the car off,” Asked Jim.
  
“I’ll just wait, if that’s ok.  I won’t have any work done Thursday, I just want advice on what I should do.”  I explained.

“Okey – dokey, see you brains,” finished Jim as the phone went dead.

The shop opens promptly at 7AM.  If you get there a little earlier than that, there’s usually somebody there to get started on your car.  You can be out of there by 7:15 on most days.  But this is October.  The evilest of all the months portrayed in the yearly issue of “The Calendar”.

I timed this morning perfectly.  I left the house at 6:34 and went up to QT to get a cup of coffee and make sure my oil level was not low.  I know.  It makes no sense.  If it was a quart low or something, I would have added a quart and taken it directly to Exclusive to have it drained and replaced.  I guess if I do that, I can be all like “Don’t you just hate those guys who never check their oil.”  Yeah – joshing around with the mechanics.  Just one more thing that will never come naturally to me.

Taking the left turn across Leavenworth Street into The Exclusive Honda Repair Parking Lot, I noticed it was completely dark.  No lights inside.  No parking lot lights.  No cars in the lot other than mine.  This was odd.  Normally, there’s at least 7 or 8 Honda/Acuras in the lot.  Oh well.  Better parking for me!

As I pulled into a parking spot closest to the south garage door on the west side of the lot, the beams from my headlights swept across the guardrail that demarks the perimeter of the lot.  It took a moment to register, but I had momentarily lit upon a hand reaching up to the guardrail from outside the lot.  It was now dark over there, but I could see a shadowy figure seemingly pulling itself out of the ground and into the Exclusive Honda Repair Parking lot.  EEK!  In my confusion, I realized it was obviously a Zombie.  Bald head.  Dirty Grey Coveralls.  That’s definitely standard Zombie issue.

Because I behave like some idiot in a Zombie movie, I did not throw the car into reverse and screech out of the parking lot to save my soul.  I just sat there like some movie victim and watched this – this, THING emerge.  This Bald headed, coverall wearing – Zombie with a lunch pail?

That’s when I realized something was going on that was only slightly less weird than a zombie uprising. 

Beyond the parking lot is not ground.  I could not see that because it was dark.  I’ve never noticed before because normally all of the parking spaces are filled with Hondas or Acuras, but there is a dropoff of about 10 or 12 feet at the edge of the parking lot.  At the bottom of the dropoff is what I now know to be “Employee parking.”  The weird part is that instead of walking around to Leavenworth Street and going to work like normal people, The Exclusive Honda Repair Guys/Zombies have affixed an aluminum ladder to the guardrail via bungee cord.  Each morning, they lock their Hondas/Acuras and literally climb the company ladder.  True story.   


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