Matchstick Men, Part Deux

Sorry about that, had to go help a friend out of a mess. Considering she has helped me a time or two, it's the only decent thing I could do.

Soooo back to the story of boring life in a small town.
My girlfriend and I are standing at the counter in the tires and stuff store, looking at the young lady on the other side. I can see my girlfriends expression, she's trying with all her might, not to laugh her ass off. She knows what's coming and she's loving every minute of it. People love to see a 'smack down' and most don't care who's on the smacking end and who's on the down end. I have to say in my defense, I think most of them were rooting for me. Especially since most of them were women. Of course there are a few who don't exactly appreciate my 'politics' so there may have been one or two who were silently wishin and hopin to see me 'downsized' a bit.
Anywayyyyyyy (ooo Piggy's fav word) little Miss Butter Wouldn't Melt in Her Mouth, gets on the phone, calls back to the shop and tells them to tell Mr D ( Mr I'm God's gift not just to women, but to all mankind) that Mrs B[itch] is here to pick up her truck. I turn around an look as he walks through the door. Now keep in mind the shop in back is a garage. They work on cars, trucks, ect. back there. It's nasty, greasy, and hot. Here he comes in his nice, neatly pressed khakis, a light blue shirt opened about two buttons too low for the workplace. And boat shoes with no socks. Trying to look for all the world like the sea captain he fancies himself. Never has a man looked more out of place. He has this sandy red hair, wears glasses and if he kept his mouth shut, he'd be marginally cute. But that's not gonna happen. "Afternoon Mrs B.," he says "Hot enough for ya?". I leaned back on one foot, crossed my arms and said "It's hot and getting hotter by the minute, so lets get this over with." "Well," he continues "I just wanted to let you know that you might need to get those brake pads replaced and maybe have the rotors turned. We can do that for you today if you don't mind waiting a little while. Let me get you ladies a cold one and we can shoot the breeze while the boys finish up." Being the bwitch I am, I stood there for about a minute and let him think he'd hoodwinked me. Then I said "Do I look stupid to you?" "Excuse me?" he says "I said, Do I look stupid to you, or can't you hear me?" At this point his face is starting to turn red, and he's beginning to stammer just a bit. "No ma'm," he says, " I just wanted to let you know..." and before he can finish I cut him off. "Mr D.", I say, "I have a husband AND a grown son. They take care of the maintenance on our Jeep. The brakes don't need changing, the rotors don't need turning, the oil doesn't need changing. I don't need you to do anything for me other than get my bill so I can pay, then bring me my Jeep so I can go." Now you would think he'd have the good sense to turn around and walk away. Good sense clearly is not his strong suite. Well, either that or he was shocked and awed by my spirit and my beauty. (okay, now THAT is meant as biting sarcasm and thrown in for amusement value, so it is permissable to fall out of your chair laughing) Instead, he forges onward, "Well," he says "We're obligated to let you know what we find when we change out the tires, and those brake pads look like they are about ready to be changed." Suddenly I feel this hand on my arm, I turn and look up into the face of my friend, and she says "Don't."
We both know, I want to tear into this asshole for all he's worth. I want to tell him what women everywhere have wanted to tell him since he was probably 17 years old. I want to tell him he's a sexist pig who has no idea what women want, because if he did he'd go dig a hole, crawl in it and pull the hole in after him. I want to tell him the only person who remotely finds him sexy, funny or irresistible is himself. I want to tell him women don't appreciate being leered at, or talked to like we're brainless twits. But, this IS a small town. And I do have to live here, as does the rest of my family. And his son is good friends with my kids, and they really wouldn't appreciate me making and ass of him or myself. So, as badly as I hate to, I look coldly at him and say "Just get me my bill, and my truck. I'll let my husband take care of making any changes." Apparently he too has an epiphany about this time and decides not to push his luck. He looks at the girl and says, "Give her ,her bill." Then he turned and walked away. I know he wanted to put me in my place, as much as I did him in his. Instead we chose to save that battle for another day. There is after all that big citywide Halloween party coming up at the end of this month. Maybe I'll have a few green apple martini's before I get there. That should just about do the trick.