Drama at the Car Dealership

It’s an age-old story…you’ve heard it before. I’ll share my experience, this being my first of a “big girl” nature.
I walked into the dealership to pick up my car, dressed in a leopard print top, black pants, and black peeptoe pumps. I clearly don’t belong there.
As I opened the door, I noticed a row of desks separated by glass panes, each occupied by a gentleman somewhere between the ages of 30 and 55. Their heads pop up above their computers in unison……..nothing……no “may I help you?”, they’re just staring. Finally, I said, “Excuse me, I’m here to pick up my car”. (I may have snapped my fingers for emphasis, but do you blame me?)
“Did they tell you it was ready?”
No, I just thought I’d drive over for a practice run so I know how to deal with you oogoling perverts when the real time comes to pick up my car.
“Yes, I wouldn’t be here unless they had.”
“Go around the corner to the cashier – she’ll have what you need.”
Cashier? My car is still under warranty – I shouldn’t need a cashier for the money-less transaction I’m about to make. I round the corner to find a girl of about 19 dressed in a hoodie and jeans (it’s 103 degrees today).
“Hello. I’m Jennifer Marshall. I’m here to pick up my car.”
“Last name?”
Didn’t I just give it to you? First name, then last. I had my ID ready, just like the huge sign next to me told me to.
“Marshall”
She looks at the tag on each set of keys.
“Jennifer?” She hasn’t even looked at my ID. Is it this easy to get into someone’s car and drive away? What if Mrs. Jones drove a Porsche? I’d be rollin’ in style! “Here, sign this.” She shoved 2 pieces of paper in front of me – one with a pink highlighted dot and one with a blue highlighted dot.
As I’m scanning the document, making sure it doesn’t say “Transmission fluid leak, did not fix. Evaporating air from gas tank, did not fix”, she slides the window open further than the small crack she was talking to me through.
“It just tells what they did to your car. Will you just sign the thing?”
“I beg your pardon? I’m not signing anything, pink or blue, until I’ve read through what I’m signing”.
She looks at the boy standing next to her, rolls her eyes, and says into the walkie talkie, “500, I need a drive around for Ms…..uh…..Marshall”
Finally, a 13-year-old rounded the corner in my Jeep Commander that shouldn’t have a transmission fluid leak or evaporating air in the gas tank in the first place. Whah…Whah…