RAVing about My New Car

If anyone had told me in the past 3 years that I would happily drive a new car off a local Toyota dealership (I-10), I would have flown into a rage! In July 2007, I was at the same dealership to purchase a small Toyota truck -- and ripped up the contract and left. In the process of trying to leave, I was verbally assaulted by an employee, who held onto the car and would not let my friend drive away. Long story short, the owner of the dealership called, offered to honor the deal we had made that was completely changed by the finance manager, and added a bit of incentive. I drove back to the dealership, sat outside to sign the papers, and vowed upon my return NEVER to go back there again. And, I generously gave them all the free publicity they deserved as the WORST dealership ever. Not surprising, many other locals not only agreed, but added their horror stories to mine. If you lie to and try to cheat one customer, it's because you've lied to and cheated many, many more.

That was then; this is now. I hurt my right knee at Thanksgiving and it's causing me issues, continuing to deteriorate in spite of the ortho specialist's pronouncement that the x-rays showed no injury; thus, there is nothing wrong with my knee. Yes, there is, and driving my 5-speed manual transmission has beome a physical issue. Additionally, when the weather turned bad so many times in the last 4 months, I could not get to work! My little 4-banger was too light on the road and didn't have the power to make it up the grades between home and job site. I made the decision to trade in my truck, sell my Camry, and become a one-car family.

I began my research in December and thought that maybe a Toyota RAV4 was the vehicle for me. Bigger than some, smaller than others, but available in a V-6, my preference. I looked on-line for both new and used, comparing outlets all over SoCal. I found a used vehicle at the dreaded dealership, but actively continued looking anywhere else, rather than go back "there." As circumstances have evolved with Toyota, it became a propitious time to push my search into gear, and this time the worst dealership was my best option, so I made the call and set up an appointment. I told the salesman with whom I spoke, "Just don't lie to me," and he promised that he would be straight. And he was, sort of.

I test drove a few used vehicles, including my well-loved 4-Runner and another one that just felt wrong. I cannot explain why, but I refused to test-drive it off the lot because something was way wrong with what I felt behind the wheel. Realizing that I would pay within $5k for a used car, and having been assured over the phone that I could purchase a RAV4-10 V-6 for $25, I directed the salesman to take me to those vehicles.

Of course, the one he had told me was available was not, so I got that hinky feeling up my back of "here we go again." I thanked him for his time and asked him to give me a call when he had on the lot what we had discussed prior to my arrival. He intervened and had me sit in and test drive that model in a different vehicle, and I was sold: it was a perfect fit. And I, still assuming that he meant that he could put me into that vehicle at $25k, went inside to do the paperwork that would culminate in a purchase.

The first figure he wrote on the paper was $5k higher than what we agreed on, so I stopped him. He explained that yes, he could get me what I wanted -- in cloth interior, fewer options, yada yada yada, and I said, "Fine. Call me when that car is on the lot." We all know how negotiations go, starting with a $500 drop in the price -- and that was not going to fly with me. When he got down to, "I can make this happen for $26," I was ecstatic, but not so much when he returned with paperwork that listed the selling price as $26,999. When I challenged him on his honesty, he clarified that when he said $26, everyone knows that he meant "$26,999." I looked him square in the eye and told him I'd been there before and that is why I walked off this lot the last time. "If you meant $27, just say so. If you say $26, then give me $26."

Long story short: I drove it home. That one. The fully-loaded, all leather interior, over-the-top RAV4-10, in white.

My new RAV has heated seats in the front. A back-up camera. A rearview mirror that automatically adjusts at night. Rear seats that flip totally down with a pull of a lever. A full-sized console between the 2 plush back seats that recline. A storage compartment under the back deck. One of those fancy hardshell covers for the spare tire. A sun roof. A 6-CD player, an incredible radio, and 6 speakers. An I-POD dock. A computer outlet. Of course, all the standard goodies, like cruise control, as well as 4-wheel drive and 2-wheel drive for inclement weather, and a towing package.

Did I mention it's a V-6 and totally hauls ass on the open road?

The dealership redeemed itself with an entirely new management structure that responded to "numerous past complaints," according to the new manager, who talked with me personally. He was impressed that I did return to this dealership, and I would go back if I ever decide to buy another car. Hopefully, this will be my last car as it blends the best of both worlds: I have my luxurious passenger compartment, my spacious truck, and the power to go where I want to go regardless of the weather.

STALKED!

The comp students are writing a group essay designed to have them experience a PROCESS essay. Sometimes just talking about it does not clarify how important it is to see an essay as an on-going process that involves many divergent tasks that cohese into a completed product. They chose their own groups, their own topic, assigned the tasks as appropriate to complete the task, and will present a finished product at tonight's class. One group decided to write about a "retired college professor," but I guess I didn't realize I am that subject until the group leader sent out an all-call to the writing team re: a meeting today.

I read the background he dug up in amazement: I didn't recall some of the specific dates and items he found!! Of course, there's always so much more, some of which, thankfully, he didn't find.
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True story. I left the desert in 1997, relocating to live in PA as my daughter was giving birth to her first (and only, it seems) child. I had a job lined up in corporate America, but found out when I arrived and moved into the home I had leased for a year that the corporation's plans had changed and I was, as Shakespeare wrote, "hoist in my own petard." With no income, I signed up with a temp agency and woke up every day to a new job. Of course I applied at local school districts, but could not be hired as (1) I have a CA credential and (2) it was mid-year. I loved temping, but knew it would not keep the rent paid for the rest of my life, so kept looking.

Meanwhile, a former student with whom I continue contact called me one day and asked if I'd like to move to Texas: he had a job for me in the corporation's education center. The corp flew me to Dallas, where I spent 3 days visiting the primary sites and being interviewed, one of which was conducted during an incredible Dallas dining experience. Yes, I was offered the job, accepted, and moved to TX.

Eighteen months later, the job suddenly took a left turn (long story) and I had to go to Plan B. After spending about 3 hours with my pastor in frank discussion and deep prayer, I picked up the phone and called the district office for PSUSD. I was offered a job on the spot, repacked everything, and drove myself back to the desert, where I moved into the home I still owned there (it took about 6 months to sell that home and relocate down the hill). When a friend heard I was back in the area, he shared that with the college administration, and I received a phone call asking me if I'd like to be back on staff.

The circle continues as the student who hired me to work for him (and is now himself a professional actor) also connected me with an older actor-turned-author-lecturer-teacher, who is writing a book on acting for which I am the editor. What makes the story bring a smile to my face is that this student and I had a hellacious dust-up when he was a high school student acting in a play I was directing, Arsenic and Old Lace, his first acting job. He wanted to tell me how he was going to present his character to the audience and when I disagreed, he yelled that he was going to have me fired from my job. I offered to walk him to the office and be available for the immediate termination; on the way between the multi-purpose room and the office, he calmed down, we began to talk, and that, my friends, was 30 years ago.

We're still talking.

No Papa's Pizza

When I want pizza, about once a month, there are 3 major suppliers within a mile of my home. In order, I prefer Papa John's, then Pizza Hut, and third Domino's. Although I've had many, many excellent pizzas from Domino's in the past, the local one sucks. I've never tasted pizza as bad as the ones from the local Domino's, although I have not ordered one in at least a year. If they are better now, I won't know it.

Papa Johns makes great pizza; my favorite is sausage and black olive. Today, for the second time in two weeks, I spent 45 minutes dialing in to order a pizza, my coupon on my computer screen, and got a busy signal every single redial. Last month, I finally gave up and dined in at Pizza Hut, which takes forever and provides the worst service of any restaurant in the entire community. I only go there when I'm content to sit and wait and wait and wait. The food is excellent, but when there is NO service, I don't need the aggravation.

Back to Papa Johns.

We have a poor economic landscape, especially in a small desert community with a largely minimum wage financial base. There are not a lot of restaurants, and those that remain open are struggling to stay afloat. Therefore, it would seem that any food business would do whatever it takes to keep the customers flowing in -- and Papa Johns doesn't answer the phone!

I wonder how many other potential customers were calling today between 4:25 and 5:15 pm and getting the same busy signal. I even checked the phone number on the website to make sure I was dialing correctly. At one point, I considered driving to the store and asking them why the phone has been busy for a solid 1/2 hour, but am spending an at-home day today and don't feel like going out.

My bottom line is this: it doesn't matter how good the location, how big the customer base, how delicious the product, if no one can call in an order. Papa John, you've lost my business. Even though it wasn't often or that much I ordered, I'm off the call list -- perhaps along with all the other frustrated customers calling and calling and calling today.

Quickies

Gotta love the student who wants to know why I write "HO" on the top of his quiz. Uh, that would be a plus sign and a 10!!

Or the guy who answered the attendance check today with (I heard) "sweet," which brought a smile to my face ... until he clarified that he clearly said, "Si," meaning yes, I am present. I like "sweet" better: it's such a positive response to one's name.

Sneakin' in a bit of doggie doings, Daisy picks up a tennis ball and Mia takes it away from her, mouth to mouth -- or Mia picks up the ball and Daisy snatches it back and runs to the tiled hallway, where she drops it then chases after it. Mia hides behind the couch and Daisy tries to find her. Mia chews the bone, Daisy distracts her by squeeking the toy, Mia races to see what Daisy is up to, Daisy dashes to Mia's palette, picks up the bone, and chews to her heart's content. Mia stands there looking flummoxed. Daisy is Quick!!

LMAO at the request to redesign hotdogs because they pose a choking hazard. Hmmm. Parents, cut them into small pieces (also packaged as a product called "cocktail weiners") or teach your children to CHEW their food, rather than swallowing it whole. Ditto with both the baby carrots and the whole grapes that also made the hazardous to small children list. (Point of information: the baby carrots are so named because the carrots are small, not because they are grown to feed raw to babies.) Come on, people: you REALLY want to redesign the hot dog???

Talk about high class: I invited 2 of my best friends to join me for lunch tomorrow ... da da ... in the school lunchroom! Yippee!

Gloria All Right Already needs to get over herself: she thinks that ALL women who have been treated badly by Tiger -- and all the other women in the world who have had sex with a married man who did not leave his wife -- deserve an apology. I'm thinking an apology would be a whole lot cheaper than a payoff, but I doubt that Ms. All Right Already really believes that's all the women need to restore their dignity. After all, she's expecting to be paid, right, and probably would not accept a sexual encounter with the bad boy as payment in kind. And a porn star's adult entertainment royalties probably don't pay as much as a Nike endorsement. Bodacious ta-ta's v. customized golf club? Blow jobs v. hole in one?

Hey, great new meaning for the Nike slogan "Just Do It!" No wonder they don't want to lose Tiger's endorsement presence. Hee-hee-hee.

About the Dogs

When I groan myself out of bed every morning about 5 am, Daisy bounds her way off the bed, out the doggie door, and into the world of "Wake Up, People! Daisy is on duty!" She does not step through the doggie door, she hurtles through it, resembling the old Superman movies, the ones where the actor actually bounced on a small trampoline before jumping through the open window. There are so many dogs, so many people to wake up, so much barking to do. Mia, on the other hand, simply relocates from her sleeping palette in the bedroom to one of the other choices throughout the house. Too early; too much noise.

I like dogs; however, while I was a child, the family dog was never allowed inside the home. Dogs were part of the perimeter of the property, their duty to bark away strangers and eat the table scraps. Once the dogs in my adult life were allowed into the house, there was no turning back. It's easier to say "no" a thousand times than to say "yes" once and have to live with it for a lifetime.

Two doggie doings I don't condone are (1) sleeping on the couch--Daisy believes differently (2) sleeping on my bed--she sneaks up after I'm asleep. Daisy has mastered the art of walking along the very narrow window frame of the front window, the window that faces the street. She has found that is the perfect place for her to bark and bark and bark as the mommies walk the children to and from school each day. The good news, however, is that when I tell her to shush, she actually stops barking for a second! If I whistle to her to come inside, she does so, a trait Mia never quite mastered.

Yes, there is jealousy this time, perhaps because Mia is older, more set in her ways, and spoiled rotten. If I rub Mia's head, Daisy wants a rub; if I call Mia for a quick hug, Daisy wants a long hug. They are working it out, so there hasn't been the growling or the biting thing going on, but Mia is not as joyful with this stranger's arrival as she has been in the past when we've cared for other dogs while their owners were out of town.

What set them off yesterday was my return from the weekly big box store shopping, where I buy dog food and, yesterday, some new dog toys and a bed for Daisy. Mia loves the "weiner dog" toy, the long columnar body with a squeeker in one end and a growler in the other. She chews the toy, tosses it about, and brings it to me when she wants to play. Knowing that Mia guards that toy with her best growl and scowl, I bought a hot pink one for Daisy .. and inadvertently started the war. Mia heard that squeeker, raised her head in the direction of the sound, trotted over and stared Daisy down until she dropped it and ran out the doggie door. The pink toy is now on Mia's palette, along with a clear message: those toys, in whatever shape or color, are MINE, especially the favorite green toy, the one wrapped in duct tape.

Yes, I'm adjusting to two dogs, but today will be the first double-duty poop patrol, perhaps my least favorite thing in the whole wide world. Were I rich, instead of so darned good looking, I'd hire the man who literally has a mobile business dedicated to picking up poop! But, I'd also hire the guy to wash the car, the crew to clean the house, and a cook to make the decisions and put the meals in front of me a couple of times a day, none of which is going to happen!

This is the last doggie update as the third thing I find annoying is elderly people who substitute their dogs for human interaction and/or conversation. It's a dog, and we're done writing about the dogs.