What Passes for Casual Conversation

Bob had suggested the other day that I blog about the Super Bowl commercials, which I thought was a great idea. And yet, now that I've seen the commercials, I'm not that inspired. I thought that the Magic Beer Fridge was funny. But otherwise not too many commercials stood out for me. Some of the funny ones (careerbuilder.com chimps) were based on commercials from last year, so they were amusing but not a huge surprise. And some commercials were just, well, commercials.

So, sorry Bob, no discussion of the Super Bowl commercials. Instead, I'd like to share with you a few details of my trip to get my oil changed yesterday. It's one of those tasks that I put off for as long as possible, and then for a few more weeks, because I just don't want to deal with it. I know it's not that big of a deal, but for some reason I avoid it like spandex and leg warmers.

Well, let me clarify: before we went to jiffy lube , I couldn't really put my finger on what I disliked about going to a car service place and being trapped in a waiting room. But now I can say with assurance that what I dislike is what passes for casual conversation.

Keith and I had come equipped with our books—Keith had the new Stephen King and I, of course, toted Great Expectations. We wanted to pull in the car, sit in the waiting room for 15 minutes and not even talk to each other.

We were foiled by the flushing and replacing of the coolant. I guess you could say it was my fault because I asked for it to be done. But it was on the schedule—what could I do? So we waited 45 minutes instead of 15. And she came in to chat.

We'll call her Mary Sue. That's not her name, but it seems appropriate. I would say that she was in her mid-40s, although I'm not ruling out the possibility that we were actually the same age and it was just her hard-knock life that dried her frizzy blonde hair and creased her face with lines. I just couldn't say for sure.

What I can say is what she talked about. I won't bother trying to insert any comments from Keith or me, because we didn't say anything. Just picture us occasionally nodding our heads or saying "That's nice" or making a face of mild surprise.

Some Mary Sue gems:

"Wow, it sure is cold out there today! I tell you what, working here just gives me more appreciation for having a car. I can't wait until I get my license back! It's been suspended. When it first got suspended, I didn't even know it! I had been living at my mom's but she passed away and I'd moved and they'd sent the notification to my mom's old house.

So then I get pulled over on my way to the old job. And the police officer is like, 'What are you doing driving?' And I'm like, 'I'm going to work.' And he's like, 'No, what are you doing driving?' and I'm like, 'I'm going to work!'

So he let me off with a warning, but then he pulled me over 4 more times in the next month while I was still driving suspended. Can you believe it? Five times in one month!

So they gave me 60 days. And that's what made me stop driving, because I'm not really cut out for jail. I was in with this other girl, and she told me that she was in for oral sex on the church steps. And I was like, 'Isn't that like, blaspheming God's name or something?' Can you believe that?"

We met Mary Sue at 3:30, were gone by 4:30, and in that intervening time she had shared with us a sordid little slice of her life. I shudder to think what I would have learned if I had also asked for my tires to be rotated.