Thursday afternoon

I had my windshield replaced on Thursday. The week before, I googled "auto glass Alexandria" and requested quotes from numerous shops. Some didn't respond at all; among those that did, there was great variation in the quoted price, as well as politeness/professionalness. The manager of the place I ended up going with asked that I drive out to the shop, since the process would work better inside (or at least in more moderate temperatures). I wondered whether this was actually true and debated whether it would have been worth paying an extra $25 for the next best estimate, to not have to spend an hour at the mechanic's, but they'd already ordered the glass, and out to Falls Church I went. [I'd like to take this opportunity for a shout-out to my employer, which, by allowing flexible scheduling and teleworking, makes having to deal with car and house stuff much less painful than it otherwise would be].

As I was saying, out to Falls Church I went... and I'm glad I did. It was fascinating. First of all, this guy is hilarious. Actually, first of all, it was great service at a great price, but the guy really is hilarious. Shortly after I arrived, two women with laptops came in and sat down. I thought, 'wow, they're hardcore; here I am with a months-old New Yorker, but they're going to work while they wait?' But soon it became clear that they were there for work: they sold internet advertising and were there to pitch their product to the shop's manager. It didn't seem like he needed it-- his cell phone rang "off the hook" the whole time I was there. Indeed, at one point-- after discovering that a delivery didn't include needed parts, and calling the dealer to complain--"I have not yet found a way to do a tune up without spark plugs," he said--he turned to the internet ad ladies and said, "I don't actually need more customers; what I need is competent vendors!"

I hear you, man.

Turning to the matter at hand, he then said it was all about google. "People want to eat, they use Google; people want to sleep, they use google." He turned to me.
"A. found me on Google." I nodded.

Google wasn't enough, they told him. Only half of the people who search online use Google. The other half mostly use Yahoo and yellowpages.com, apparently.

The women kept trying to figure out where the manager was from.

Woman: How did you get into this business?
Manager: I used to be an airplane mechanic in the Air Force.
Woman: For what country?
Manager: This one.

The window guy finished my car just as I finished an excruciatingly upsetting article about refugee camps in Chad. I got up to pay.

Woman: Where are you from?
Manager: Guess where I'm from.

Pause

Woman: I don't know.
Manager: Guess.

Pause

A., unable to take it anymore: Armenia.
Manager: How did you know?

The women are staring at me in awe.

A.: Your name.

I mean, once you've met a few Armenians, you've figured out the name thing. It's not rocket science. Maybe they'd never met any Armenians?

The manager high-fived me. I thanked him and accepted his card (and promptly passed it onto a friend who needs her windshield replaced, and lives near there). Then I remembered that my tire was low. Even though I'd just put air in it. I asked him where their air thing was, and he told me that they'd take care of it. In taking care of it, they discovered a small screw in the tire. They patched it for free for me.

I'm not beyond wondering whether people are messing with my car, between the windshield, this screw thing, and a flat I had a few weeks ago. But the crack in the windshield resulted, I'm pretty sure, from a rock that flew off one of those trucks, and the earlier flat was caused by something that couldn't have been inserted on purpose. Likewise, this tiny screw would have been difficult to insert on purpose, and besides, if you were going to slash a tire, wouldn't you just slash the tire?

I hope the guy finds some competent vendors.