I see I “missed” a date for essay-posting. Because I had told you I would miss it—ya, but old deadline habits die hard. Will you accept a letter instead?
My old Toyota Service Operations Assistant, Megan Ruby, has been promoted.
Now an Internet Service Assistant, she asked for my thoughts. I replied.
To my reply she replied, at uncanny speed, to say she’ll pass my e-letter up to the manager. She’s fast on our dates too.
So here’s my letter:
Hi Megan,
My thoughts?
It was nice to chat at length with my old sales rep, Francis.
It was nice how two folks at the service counter brought out my warm and witty side. Good for them. (footnote)
The only joke I still remember is me looking at the bottom line of my bill and saying, “I need that like I need a cranial perforation.”
As for the car, it got, you know, car fixed. Not much to say. Now I have new filters.
Later that day I met a friend in that big hotel in Black Diamond and said I enjoyed Okotoks Toyota.
And told how I didn’t like Stampede Toyota, because the manager tried to fool me with the calculator for car payments, a tale that ended with the manager demanding to know why I came back to hear his price reasoning—I guess he thought he could still make a sale— and me replying, “Because I wanted to look you in the eye and tell you that you hurt my feelings.”
…
But you, Megan, where were you? There I was at the coffee counter, and you were supposed to come around with some champagne for me. Like you promised on our last date.
Hey, if you can’t keep promises, I might stop dating you.
Yours truly,
Sean
… …
… …
Sean Crawford
North of my Okotoks Toyota dealer
“It’s worth the trip”
October
2026
In the service hanger, my good mood started when two men were of good cheer. One guy, Walley, introduced himself and shook my hand as he knelt at my window, and one brought me a toy Prius, that I will give to guy who has his bedroom table covered in cars. (As I told Megan in a separate e-mail)
Business note: I had told my bank finance officer what I could afford for (a down payment plus five years of car payments). When I returned to my bank with Toyota’s offer something didn’t add up: I would have to pay more. This despite my finance officer having previously called to propose my terms. So then, in my presence, my finance guy phoned the car guy to ask whether the new figures were real.
That car fellow, like some scurvy mortgage gentleman, had hoped I would forget how there might be four weeks in a month, but not 48 in in year. The manager asked me to return, to show me his computer screen, and show me how his numbers wouldn’t allow a lower price. My finance officer was dubious about me returning, saying, “Okay, but don’t sign anything.” I didn’t.
