The last time my headlight went out, I was determined to "do it myself." Joel was going to be so proud of me! I went to the auto parts store and bought the headlight. I came home and searched up the directions. I went into the garage and found all the tools I needed and I set to work.
So I chickened out. I put the bolts back on, and I drove to Les Schwab (where they are always super nice to me even when my descriptions of what is wrong with my car make me sound like a crackpot). I took the headlight in with me and in my best "I am so helpless" demeanor, I proceeded to tell the whole story to the nice man ending with "And if I break my car, my husband is going to be NOT HAPPY."
This worked. He installed my headlight. He didn't even charge me. Everyone's happy.
So, my other headlight needed to be replaced. I was leaving to go out of town that evening, before Joel was going to get home from work, so I really needed to take care of it myself. But, having failed the attempt to do it myself before, I decided to just skip to the "act like a helpless woman" part and get it over with more quickly.
I betook myself to the auto parts store, as before. But, this time, I played the "I don't know what I'm doing" role for the guy at the counter in the hopes he would take pity on me and offer to do it for me.
"Well... good luck."
That was not the response I was looking, folks.
So, I went home and emailed my husband, who knew this was my plan. I told him that the auto parts store had not behaved as was appropriate and then inquired if Joel (my husband) had any time in his afternoon schedule for a 15 minute minute appointment for Joel's Auto Repair Service.
I picked up Joel, we found an emptyish parking lot, and he went to work. And worked... and worked... and then worked some more.
"Did you bring any pliers?" he asked me.
"Umm... no. PLIERS WERE NOT ON THE LIST." Long story slightly shorter, he couldn't do the repair without the pliers that I did not bring BECAUSE THEY WERE NOT ON THE LIST, so I said I'd just go to Les Schwab. Please note these are the people who did it for me last time.
But I had to go get Sick Child from school... so I drove back to the school, picked up Alicia, took her home and made her a bed on the couch, and left run down to Les Schwab.
Again, the most pitiful "I don't know what I'm doing" story ever. And the response?
"Sorry, we don't do headlights."
Seriously, what IS it with the non-chivalry? Men of the world, you have failed me!!
I'm counting on my father-in-law.