It may be true that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, but it's also true that it's not what you know, but who you know that matters.

I went to "Spiffy Tube" this weekend, for an oil change and and A/C recharge. I go to "Spiffy Tube" specifically because one of my former longtime co-workers is the general manager of every "Spiffy Tube" in town (his father now being the owner of every "Spiffy Tube" in town), and he set it up so that all employees of Where I Work (plus our family and friends) get a nice discount. It's been easy enough in the past: tell them I work for Where I Work, throw in former co-worker's name, get treated like royalty. (Once he even paid me to be a mole, and go to a certain location and try to get them to do something they weren't supposed to do. They passed the test, though. And I discovered I wouldn't make a very good spy--it made me nervous.)

This time I went to their most recently acquired store, and apparently they'd never gotten the memo that they're supposed to treat me like royalty. DON'T THEY KNOW WHO I AM? (Okay, I'm a nobody, really, but I'm a nobody with a DISCOUNT, by god.) I had to tell them several times to make sure and use the Where I Work account, so I get my 20% discount. Finally the young fellow seemed to understand, and the oil change and recharge commenced. When it came time to check out, the total seemed a bit high, but I knew I needed a lot of freon, so I didn't question it--just handed over my debit card. I took my receipt, got in my car, noticed they'd skipped a couple of the little customer service steps former co-worker had added to the routine, but decided I really wanted to get home, so I didn't mention it.

When I got home, I looked at my itemized receipt--it's listed under the Where I Work account, all right....but no discount. Damn it! That discount should have been over $30! So I called, and after a bit a manager got on the phone and told me there was nothing he could do about it--the transaction was final. "Okay then," I said, "I'll just call former co-worker and let him fix it." Oh no, no, NO! the manager said. I'll fix it. 10% discount, right? "20%." Are you sure? "Yes." Okay, he'd figure out what he needed to do and he'd call me. What's my number? I gave him my cell number and waited. No call that night. No call the next day (Saturday). I called and left my number again. No call back. Bright and early Monday morning I called former co-worker on HIS cell, and told him the whole story. The WHOLE story--including the part about where they skipped some of the steps. Yep, I ratted them out good, and I figured they deserved it. I mean really...if you're going to cut corners on your customer service, you damn sure shouldn't do it on a customer who has mentioned repeatedly that she's a longtime acquaintance of your boss. Fools. At any rate, he said it would be fixed, and fixed quickly, and that someone would call me. Sure enough, a few minutes later the manager called, apologizing and grovelling and promising to make it good with my bank account. And also, what was it exactly that they failed to do, so he could reprimand his employees? Hee. I'm also getting my next oil change free. The moral of the story? Don't come between a frugal girl and her discount! I've got [embarrassing number redacted] mouths to feed, after all.

Speaking of which...yep, still have the stray dog. I think he looks like a Wiley. I really like the name Ribsy, but he just doesn't have that Ribsy quality to me. Ribsy seems to me to require a certain scruffy cuteness he just doesn't have. Not that he's not scruffy, god knows, but...I don't know. I think he's a Wiley. And I think that as he gets over the starvation and resumes being a puppy, I'm going to have a load on my hands. I don't think, no....I'm SURE he's not getting enough exercise, being in that cage so much of the day, but I don't know what the hell I'm going to do about it. And I think he's going to need to learn some manners soon, and I do NOT have the time (or the desire, quite frankly) for that. This is why I don't like puppies. Sigh.

Okay, before I get all discouraged again thinking too much about the dog, let's think of some good things:

Stefanie gave me an award! It makes me want to go all Sally Field and say "She likes me! She really likes me!" But I'll maintain some semblance of dignity and simply say "Squeeeeee!!!!"

The air-conditioning in my car works again!

Dolly and McBeady have both decided their love for me (and my tasty, tasty food) outweighs their hatred of the new dog, so they're coming around again. They're smart, though. They look to make sure he's not around before they jump over the fence. This complicates my life, of course, since I have to do recon around the yard to make sure they're not already in it before I let the little beast out. But still, I'm glad the kitties have come back.

Have you tried the Cheddar and Sour Cream Baked Ruffles? My god, those things are good. I never liked the Baked Lays or Baked Tostitos, but the Ruffles? Yum. And I can kind of pretend I'm eating cheese, though I'm sure that bright orange powder they're covered with has only the vaguest of relationships to actual cheese.

The Lyle Lovett and k.d. lang concert was fabulous, as expected. I still want to marry Lyle. And I want to hang out with k.d., who started the evening by saying very seriously that she was thrilled to finally come to Tulsa, and HONORED to be performing on the stage that had also been graced by...dramatic pause, while we wonder which of the many truly legendary possibilities she's going to mention...CLAY AIKEN. Who was there the night before. (After a little tussle on his way, apparently.) Hee.