Making Stuff Up

When I was in the 11th grade, a teacher we called Mr. V, since he had a long and complicated Dutch name, told me I had the gift of blarney. It was a nice way of saying I was a budding bullshit artist. I took it as a compliment. I still do.

I love to make stuff up, and am quick to tell anyone who asks that I made stuff up. In Sonoma, I toldl some fantastic tales to the other two couples assembled, about Kenny and Joelle. I have an honest face, and they thought I was telling the truth. I quickly told them I wasn't, and for the rest of the trip, Hal, the NY law professor, would say "Ok -- is this for real?"

I'm still annoyed by the rip off and attempted rip off at Lexus of Kendall, and the saleswoman, Patty, I thought might by trustworthy. They took away an attempted $899 stealing charge, but I DID pay hundreds for "electronic documents filing."

The day I left for California, Patty texted me -- they had copied my insurance card for my vehicle, but not the SUV I bought, and they needed THAT card for their files. Would I take a photo of the card and text it to her? I did so, and then sent the following text: "Patty: as an attorney, I charge $200 for document photographing and transfer. Kindly have your dealership send me a check for $200 to pay for the insurance documentation I provided. No rush."

I heard no reply. I know she thinks I'm being serious. Actually, I WOULD love to get a check from them -- I'd double the amount and donate it to charity -- but it'll never happen. Dealers charge stupid amounts for stuff -- I have a feeling they'd fight to the death to have it happen to them.

Just as well. When my car lease is up, I'll go to North Miami for my next one. I know car dealers are crooks -- but when one says she isn't, and is...well, that crosses the line.

I LOVE a great story. I do NOT enjoy exercising. A reason I have kept up with it is that my trainer, Enrique, is also a great raconteur.  We share tales of human nature and life -- he sees a LOT working with mostly professional women who use his gym to get fit. And since I'm a quarter century older, I have more tales to share -- Enrique loves it.

Meanwhile, yesterday I had my every two year dealings with two of my favorite people: Mr. Smith and his son in law Pedro. Mr. Smith owns a septic tank company, and every two years he and Pedro or Pedro alone come by to pump ours out. Supposedly this preventative maintain work keeps me from having to replace the drain field, which is a $5-10K job. Mike was neglectful in his septic care, and needs a new one as I write. I referred him to Mr. Smith and they will do the job.

Smith and Pedro have the sense of humor required to literally, instead of figuratively, deal with tons of shit each day. 

Pedro is missing two front teeth, and I guess realized I noticed. "Mang -- I am like a hockey player," he explained in his classic Miami Cuban Spanish accent. "I take out the teeth when I work -- since I once dropped them into an open tank."

I told Pedro that in my family there is a great tale involving my late Grandmother Goldie. Supposedly she became nauseous at a family function, and vomited in the ladies room toilet. She asked my Uncle Abe, who owned a coin laundry machine business and was a trained plumber, to retrieve them. I think he did, but joked that had he left them there, everyone using the toilet would have been bitten in the ass.

Pedro LOVED the tale. I still do, too...

So yesterday they came by and pumped out, but I was at work. Mr. Smith is coming later to pick up the check. I look forward to it -- a man truly #1 in a #2 business...

So congratulations, Mr. V. I hope you're still alive, and collecting a fat Levittown Schools pension somewhere. You noticed true bullshit talent when you saw it, and I have been developing my craft ever since.

A blarney tale that goes untold is a terrible thing to waste...