The Case of the Two Hundred Seventy Five Dollar Spark Plugs

My old truck had been running rough the last few weeks. And, my gas mileage had plummeted. I normally get around twenty miles to the gallon, but now I was hovering around twelve. True, most of my driving was around town, but still...

So, I decided to take my old Sonoma of my owna down to the local chevy dealership to get a tune up. After all, the car was nine years old but still had the original spark plugs. Of course, I had only put twelve thousand miles on the vehicle in those nine years. It just seemed like it might be time to do a little maintenance.

And, I was smelling gasoline too much while I was driving. I perceived that this manifestation was due to incomplete fuel combustion which could have been exacerbated by worn plugs or a dirty fuel filter. I should confess that I know little about internal combustion engines other than the rudimentary notions relating to a myriad of well known piece parts such as pistons, rods and crank shafts, and the idea of creating force to drive the wheels through the burning of gasoline in the engine's internal cylinders and the subsequent transfer of that created energy to the wheels via various gear and drive assemblies.

I had done some business with the local dealer, Tom Gibbs Chevrolet. I had gotten some warranty work done there and had also purchased a cover for the bed. Everyone there seemed honest and friendly. So, I called and made an appointment for the next week to have my spark plugs replaced and my fuel filter checked and changed if needed. The one thing that I forgot to do was ask for an estimate for the job. That was my fatal mistake.

However, before any expenditure of money, I usually do a perfunctory cost analysis and attempt to determine what a fair price for that kind of job would be. I figured that the plugs would be maybe thirty dollars and the fuel filter maybe twenty. My estimate for labor would be one hour at ninety dollars an hour. So, my gross estimate for the job was one hundred forty dollars. And, that estimate was the maximum that I could accept gracefully without going on a determined search for the service manager. The only other worry I had was that they might try to add on other maintenance needs, such as fluid flushing and belt replacement. I steeled myself to refuse any attempt to deviate in any manner from my original request to replace the plugs and fuel filter.

However, I had also been considering some modifications to my interaction with the service people around my home town. I had decided that I was going to attempt to treat them with kindness and respect, and not lose my temper if things weren't going exactly my way. I have decided that losing one's cool and temper are weaknesses rather than badges of honor which tend to manifest the pride emotion within me. So, my current mantra is to be always cool, calm, collected. Like Cool Hand Luke. Yeah. Cool Hand Luke. I can do that...At least I thought I could.

I pulled into the service bay and was immediately greeted by a service employee. He asked me why I was there and I replied with my plugs and fuel filter request. In addition, I had remembered that the door to the back area of the extension cab had malfunctioned. I asked him to check it out and give me an estimate for fixing it.

I sauntered into the waiting area and proceeded to numb myself to a lengthy wait. The waiting area was crowded and I didn't see too many happy faces. But, with my new attitude which I was attempting, I flushed that feeling away and assumed that I could make this a good experience without much trouble.

After a half an hour, one of the service employees came over to me and said, "Hey, we have the part to fix the door. We can install it for two hundred fifty dollars." I wanted to reply, "TWO HUNDRED FIFTY DOLLARS!!! THAT'S HIGHWAY ROBBERY. ARE YOU A COMPLETE IDIOT?" However, sticking to my new mantra, I just said, "No, that's too much. I'll leave it the way it is." The service employee nodded in agreement and sauntered off.

Okay, I passed the first test. No display of anger. No diatribe. Job well done. I gave myself a virtual pat on the back.

I then sat through two more half hour replays of daily news highlights. It's interesting what you can pick up by intently watching one of those shows over and over again. For example, the all time high temperature for this date is ninety nine degrees, set in Kissimmee in 1946. That's quite amazing. And, mind stupefying.

Then, out of nowhere, another service employee approached and said, "Your truck is ready. Take this up to the cashier to pay." I was both appreciative of the fact that I didn't have to watch another half hour rehash of the day's events and also relieved that they hadn't decided to try to con me into any add-ons.

I was clear...I thought. As I walked up to the cashier's window, I took a glance at the bill. I assumed that it would be much less than my one hundred forty dollar estimate, which I perceived was double what it really should be. To my amazement, the total amount read two hundred seventy five dollars. I couldn't believe it. I rubbed my eyes, put on my reading glasses and tried to focus on that number as best I could.

But, the number didn't change. These people had performed a miracle of epic proportions. They had turned spark plugs into gold. An amazing feat.

My first feeling was to storm into the service department headquarters and start ranting to anyone within earshot. But, then, I remembered my new mantra. "Be cool." "Be calm." "Be collected."

But, how could I accomplish this? I mulled it over for a few moments and decided that my mantra was impossible to fulfill. If I started to calmly question the total with anyone, I would surely and quickly lose my cool. I'd surely raise my voice. I'd surely create a chaotic scene from which no one could be extricated for several hours.

So, My only solution was to go up to the cashier, pay the bill and then casually walk out to my truck and drive away. And, that's what I did.

I initially felt good about remaining cool, calm and collected. However, after mulling the incident over in my mind, I decided that I had learned a hard lesson. I should have realized that I cannot walk away from an injustice like that. My walking away without resolving the issue was cowardly.

I'm going back down there tomorrow. I will straighten this out. And, I won't be cool, calm and collected. I'll be me. And, it won't be pretty.