My weekend

Here's my story of the weekend-
Humans are known to be lazy (mostly). I must admit that I fall into the majority and try to procrastinate as long as I can. Every morning, while going to work, and every evening, while coming back from work, I would see the yellow sticker on my car's windshield that would remind me to get the state inspection done. This continues for three weeks until last weekend when I finally convince myself to get up early on a saturday morning (believe me, I did). I have my breakfast and by 8:30 AM I am knocking the dealer's door. It has already started to snow and I want to get back home as soon as possible. I have done my homework and therefore, I "possess" a magic coupon that offers a free-state-inspection. Ha! who could be smarter than I?

I hand my car to the dealer, and then the endless wait begins. When asked, the dealer makes a face and says- it may take four to five hours. But I am prepared for this, I've brought my own copy of the Journal, a phone with unlimited minutes plan; and of course Customer waiting area has the idiot's box. I comfortably seat myself and it does not take long for me to realize that I am the only one in the waiting area. If nobody else is waiting, why would it take so long for the inspection? Probably people have dropped off their cars and would pick up later? Nobody has a comparable patience, probably (a false sense of self-defined superiority). Boy, am I an early bird or what, even sales people haven't shown up yet. There are only some Hispanic people, climbing on those "magic" ladders, painting the ceiling. I have flipped all the pages of the paper, flipped as many channels as I could. Flipping channels was not easy, there was no remote near the TV, I actually had to go to the cable box and push the hard buttons on the box! Turning back to my phone will not help either, its Saturday morning, early to call anywhere in the world I belong. Then I dive into the dealer's treasure- outdated, unheard bunch of wooden extracts finished as glossy material, otherwise called "Magazines". I soon find out that I have successfully fathomed two-and-a-half hours. But wait, my name has not been called yet. There were few broadcasts, but you can almost never understand them. Thinking positively, I go downstairs wearing a plastic smile and hesitatingly ask my "Service Adviser" if he had paged me. He boasts that he has given me a special consideration and my car is very next in the queue. It would now only take half an hour. "Not bad", I think to myself and go back to my haven and start watching some weird comedy shows. Now even the sales floor has some activity and I could see some sales people with that "Let me have all of your money" look masked behind "How are you doing today?" face. I look out of the window, snow has started accumulating, but that does not bother me much as I would be soon out of this place. I could soon be telling people how I saved a big, mammoth fifteen dollars by just spending five hours at a dealer's place. (hmm that's $3/hour, is it legal in United States?). These thoughts are suddenly disturbed by the most awaited words- "paging for Mr Arora." I quickly pack my stuff, and rush downstairs. My service adviser smilingly says something for 2 minutes of which I could only pick three digits-"322"!!! I said, "I'm sorry, what?" and he repeats it "Your car did not pass the inspection, the front tires need to be replaced, brakes are worn out, but lets do the tires this time, it would cost you $322 and only one hour more, do you want me to go ahead and do it?"

As a smart, adamant desi, I drive back my Jetta with a failed inspection test sticker on the windshield.