So You Want To Buy A Car: Part 2

Continued…

Clearly, I have been let down by the people I sorta-kinda trusted to be my saviors. Dubz (not his real name), my homie from around the way, pulls through to the spot where I was; Let me digress for a moment (we aren't homies anymore, I'll tell you about him in the near future, he's too damn weird, heavily pretentious, an asshole, manipulative and a 30-year-old loser).

Dubz saw how defeated I was before I even said anything. I had to end this day with a beer or two, three, four, or more. Mind you, my car still isn’t starting properly.

This other resident mechanic, we will call him Wisdom (a 50-year-old looking, chubby, much darker, expert looking Zimbabwean) requests that I go to "my flend's" shop and buy perfume, WHAT!? Dude I’m trying to get my car started and you want me to buy you perfume, what the hell is this.

In my head, I’m thinking he wants the perfume for himself because his shift is over and he wants to freshen up, a token of my gratitude or something like that, for his assistance.

I get to the store; they don’t have perfume so I grab the deodorant and give it to Wisdom. He heads to the air intake compartment, opens it up, and starts spraying. I’m honestly worried right now, is this some kind of joke? He then starts the car, guess what!? It's kicking and vroooooom now it’s on like a scone.

Was I not blown away by this trick, I never, HEAR ME NOW! I never expected that to happen the way it did. I was impressed, but equally frustrated because this was a temporary fix. Fast forward, I’m in Sunninghill with Dubz handling recreational matters, all the while the car idles because I’m not trying to get stuck, a substantial distance from home.

Good morning Wednesday! So I thought. As I was making my way back to the spare shop, I thought to myself (msunu'wa every buddy, I’m getting my money back, they wasted my Tuesday). I get there with the incorrect parts they ordered and request that they refund me. Did shii not hit the fan fam!

You know the stereotype of how Indians and Jewish people are with money, I kid you not, it was like trying to remove a dog's favorite chew toy from its mouth. C'mon! to some extent we're all a little racist. I argue my case; they are not trying to hear me out because they claim to have already ordered the replacement parts, convincing me that they will be delivered shortly, of which they were going to charge me an extra R500 on top of the R1 200 I had already spent.

They were relentless in denying me the refund. It is 10 am in the M@!F#%'n morning, I cannot be this furious. I had to call my Dad to intervene; I was going to act a fool in that shop. Daddy pulls through and I brief him on the situation, now the whole store wants to weigh in on the matter because it was loud AF in the 1st half. Surprisingly, Fajit is now calmer; I thought he would keep the same energy when he was dealing with me alone. Mhans was mad disrespectful towards me ey!

Instead of arguing, now it is a civilized conversation. No cap, I wanted my Dad to instigate a brawl because homie was ready to throw these hands. We finally reach an accord; I have to forfeit 15% of the total cost of acquiring the parts since I want a refund, which was R270.

The owner of the shop starts being sincere with us, apologizing for the misunderstanding and starts giving us a heartfelt message about customer service and how he struggles to keep the lights on, paying rent, all that shii that has absolutely nothing to do with us.

Part 3 loading…

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