I took a mental health day off today to go ride my mountain bike for the first time in months, but had to finish up a few things on my rig that didn’t get finished last night, so I went into the shop early this morning after grabbing my truck from the dealership. 1/?
As I was working on my bike near the front window, around 9:30a, a few people came by. One man in particular, who knocked on the window and wanted to come in, was particularly peeved when I shook my head and pointed to our TWO signs that say we open at 11a, every day.
He shouted “fuck you, bitch!” and then rode away. One of our other wrenches was in the shop and we just laughed about it, whatever.
Until, after 11, that same guy returned. And Mark was there. He’d been told the story, so he went outside when the motherfucker showed up.
You wanna know the real reason women are so cunty, so often? Because we spend the large majority of our days babysitting utter fucking morons while those same inept dumbasses pretend they have the right to interrupt us, talk down to us, and treat us as though we’re inferior.
Like, I shouldn’t have to say “hey, maybe we use the proper tools to hammer a BB out of a $9k bike frame” or “we don’t store cooking pans *in* the actual fucking oven” or HOW ABOUT YOU PUT A FUCKING MASK ON, YOU GODDAMN CHILD, and yet here we motherfucking are.
Meanwhile, I get asked if I’m a mechanic, if I ride, orrrrr.... And when I deadpan and respond with “no, I’m just the bouncer for sexist assholes who ask dumb fucking questions”, they have the audacity to be offended.
My new #SPARKLEFUCKER frame arrived this morning, right before all fucking hell broke loose — oh, and New Mexico had 544 new COVID cases yesterday, while dumbasses are still throwing tantrums about wearing masks in the shop.
I’m still battling with shitty dude track mechanics to actually listen to me when I say that the fuel pump in the Battmobile is going, and those dumb ass motherfuckers tried charging me $189 to put fuel injector cleaner in today.
That bullshit didn’t last long.
So tomorrow morning, because they’re trying to charge me $139 for a ‘diagnostic’ fee for an issue none of their professionals seem to be able to ‘replicate’, I GET TO GO TO THE DEALERSHIP AND SHOW THEM WHAT A FUEL PUMP WHINE SOUNDS LIKE.