Never trust a jar of mayo…

January 28, 2010 at 2:05 am (Uncategorized)

I’m beginning to think that I am car phobic.

Not in the “I can’t get in there” phobic, but the “oh my god. oh my god. oh my god. I have a flat tire.” or the “oh my god. oh my god. oh my god. I need an oil change.”

Now, I’m not a ditzy girl who twirls her hair and cries for a mechanic in shining armor type. Nope. Never. I’m the call-Dad,-flip-out-yell-about-something-minor-making-him-think-it’s-major kind of girl. Therefore, when my tire was tragically brutalized in the parking lot of my apartment on campus, I knew just who to call.

There was just one issue – my Dad wasn’t reachable. So, I called the next best person, AAA, and waited for Ryan the tow-truck man to come save me.

In those boredom and anxiety ridden minutes that I waited for good old Ryan, I decided to look at what could have possibly given me a flat tire. I had driven past the dumpsters to get to a parking spot. Right after, I had heard this POP and boom, tire down.

So I put my Nancy Drew face on, and went to examine the scene.

I walked towards the dumpster, only to see garbage strewn all over the parking lot. Now, seeing as I had not hit the dumpster, the garbage was confusing…until I looked at the dumpster. Garbage overflowed, and lucky me  had run over the not one, but TWO jars of mayo that had been sitting in the parking lot.

Annoyed that I pay over $10,000 a year to have mayo take over the parking lot, I called Res-Life immediately.

Now, granted I was a little less than nice, but I got my point across that I was an angered apartment dweller! How dare they tell me that maintenance would get to it in the morning! Maintenance should have taken care of it in the first place!

Obviously they sent over a housing manager.

I calmly walked the young man over to the dumpster, pointing out the garbage, and my bum tire.

His solution?

He apologized, placed the mayo in the garbage (leaving the rest of the garbage out, I might add), and offered me a flashlight in order to aid in the changing of my tire.

A flashlight.

I pointed to myself and before I could stop myself said “Do I LOOK like I know how to change a tire!? Do I give off the grease monkey vibe to you!? I’m


At this point, housing manager was saved by my tow-truck-god, who clearly understood that I was incapable of even contemplating changing a tire. Within 10 minutes I was home-free, and Ryan was on his way.

Moral of the story: my car got brought down by a jar of mayo, and Res-Life needs to reevaluate their response to complaints.

A flashlight, psht.


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