Drama at the auto shop

I had to go get an emissions test on my car today, which is a racket. I had to get the test before I could get my annual car tag from the state, which is another racket. But while I was there, I had an interesting experience.

The name of the place is Junior’s Automotive. It used to be called Shorty’s, but apparently Shorty sold it to Junior. I know, it sounds like a Hee-Haw sketch, but I’m not making this up.

It took me a while to get the attention of the girl behind the counter, because she was engrossed in what appeared to be a fairly serious conversation. The girl, who I later learned is named Brandy, was wearing a T-shirt that read “I’m just a cowgirl.” She finally paused long enough to attend to me, and then resumed her phone conversation while I waited.

In the waiting room, there’s a small sign asking customers to please go outside if they are going to talk on their cell phones. Now there’s a policy I agree with. As I’ve stated before, it makes me insane to be held captive listening to the inane details of somebody else’s life.

But they don’t practice what they preach there at Junior’s, cause Brandy went on and on loudly with her call, and I heard every word. I was the only person in the waiting room, and the magazine selection was terrible, so I had no choice but to listen. And I’ll tell you what, I’m glad I did, because it was pretty entertaining.

Let me see if I can sum it up for you, based on what I gleaned from my five minutes of listening. Brandy knows a man – I’m not sure if it’s a brother, or old boyfriend, or just a friend – who is dating a woman that Brandy, well, just flat-out doesn’t trust.

This woman apparently will “run off” and disappear for a few days, then show back up, declare that she loves the man, wants him back, and ask him if can she have a few hundred dollars. He gives her the money, and sure enough, she takes off again, repeating the cycle.

So Brandy, being very concerned for her male friend (and rightly so, based on what I’d heard), decided to investigate this floozy. Through a background check, she learned that the woman has at least five ex-husbands, and has some convictions for bank fraud, and has some sort of a “pill problem.” I hate to jump to conclusions, but I’m guessing that’s why she needs the frequent stimulus packages from the boyfriend.

The phone call I overheard was between Brandy and one of the ex-husbands. She was calling them to see if her suspicions about the woman were right, and to try and get some ammo to use to convince her male friend he’s making a mistake. When she hung up, though, she was a little disappointed, because that particular ex-husband apparently wanted no part of it.

I’m thinking that if this guy hasn’t seen the problem with this woman yet, nothing is going to get through to him. Did I mention that the woman is 48, and her boyfriend is only 28? She’s currently “on the run,” according to Brandy, but she’s sure she’ll come back, and she just knows her friend will take her back when she does. She’s tried to talk some sense into him, but she said he’s “blindsided.”

Here’s what I was thinking – this gal is 48, has 5 ex-husbands, a drug problem, a criminal history, and a guy 20 years her junior keeps taking her back after she runs off with his money. What in the world is her secret? Is she the best-looking woman who ever lived? Does she cook like Martha Stewart, clean like Hazel and dress like one of the Girls Next Door? Can she rebuild the engine of a ’65 Mustang while wearing a French maid outfit and singing a Lynyrd Skynyrd song? I’m intrigued, to say the least.

I started to ask Brandy if she wanted to talk about it, as I’m pretty good at giving advice, but I decided against it. You don’t want to get sucked into trailer-park drama, anyway. It’s like a swirling eddy that draws you in, and there’s no escaping.

I hope Brandy gets her friend out of this mess. I need to take my daughter’s car in soon for an emissions test, so maybe when I’m there I’ll get an update. I can get out my cellphone, violating Junior’s policy, and have a fake conversation about a woman I know who’s had a bunch of husbands and is addicted to Oxycontin, and that might prompt her to tell me what’s going on. Misery loves company, you know.