We Can Drive It Home with One Headlight

Tonight I went to Auto Zone. They might as well call the place Man Zone. I knew as I walked out of my house that I would have to be assertive and confident. I also touched up my make-up—not that it made a difference after the torturous cardio class I did earlier in the day.

I stood in line and waited for an available employee. A man got in front of me, but aside from an indignant little huff, I didn’t protest. After all, his $4.30 purchase was probably easier than my need for a new headlight. Once he was gone, the employee walked away from his register. This time my indignant huff was louder, so he turned and said, “Can I help you?” I said, “Not if it’s too much trouble.” He told me I would have to wait for Brian to get my headlight fixed. Then, he grabbed his coat and said goodbye to the other men working, saying, “14 hours is long enough. I’m going home.” I felt really bad for speaking to him so rudely.

Not knowing who or where Brian was, I continued standing in line while another worker was helping a man buy a new battery. A few more customers began gathering in front of the counter. One asked me, “Are you next?” I replied, “I have no idea.” It turns out I was next and the man behind the counter happily sold me headlights and told me I’d have to wait for someone to help replace it, as long as it wasn’t too difficult a job.

So I returned to my car and waited. One employee was helping a man change his van’s battery. When he finished, he went inside, got a Coke and came out for a cigarette. When he saw me, he said, “I’m sorry, are you waiting?” Convicted about my earlier snarky remark, I said, “No worries, take your break. You’re really hustling.” Turns out this was the elusive Brian. He was willing to come check out my headlight, as long as I didn’t mind the cigarette. He fiddled around under the hood for a while, went into the store for a tool, fiddled some more, and then said, “You’re going to hate me.” I said, “I figured it would be too much for you to do. No worries.” He slammed the car’s hood closed and said, “Wait a minute. Let me rub your head.” And then, friends, he came over and rubbed both of his hands on my head! He said, “When I slammed the hood, it come back on.”

What else can I possibly say about my Auto Zone experience?

After my hair had been through the aforementioned cardio class and the Brian incident, I ran into my hair stylist at Macy’s.