Jean Schmidt needs to be bitch slapped up and down the House floor. I'm volunteering to do it.

---

Why is it a mortal sin to burn the flag, but a great idea to piss all over the Constitution?

---

Why is it a mortal sin to burn the flag, but a great idea to piss all over the Constitution?

If someone set fire to the Constitution, and that was the only way to put it out, that could leave you in a quandary.

---

I just got a call from the customer service guy at my car dealership, about the fact that I hadn't given him very high marks on the customer satisfaction survey call I got. I had told the survey caller that I thought he was quite condescending, among other things. He seemed sincere in his apology, and almost had me, until he told me that he had tried to treat me and other customers "the way he would his mother or his aunt".

Something tells me he wasn't getting it.

---

Perkins, we should introduce him to my mother. Whenever Mom & Dad went car shopping, the salesmen would always address my father and ignore Mom. Until Dad turned to her and said, "I'll be across the street having a beer. Come get me when you're ready to sign the papers."

---

Perkins, we should introduce him to my mother. Whenever Mom & Dad went car shopping, the salesmen would always address my father and ignore Mom. Until Dad turned to her and said, "I'll be across the street having a beer. Come get me when you're ready to sign the papers."

I bought my first new car when Scott and I had been dating about six months. He was usually with me when I was shopping, because we're cute like that. Without fail, the sales people (all men, I think) addressed him. One of us would reiterate that I was buying the car, but within a few minutes, the talk would be aimed at him, again. It was so ridiculous, even more so, because although I'm no car-freak, I probably had more car knowledge than him, at least at that time.

---

At my Honda dealership, if they don't get all 5s, they have failed.

I think that's a poor construction of a survey. I don't give 5s generally when I take surveys unless someone has gone above and beyond the call of duty. How often does that happen at a car dealership?

---

I went with my mother, who is in her late seventies, when she was buying her new car, and two of the three salespeople kept addressing me. Which, really very lame, because she's the one with all the disposable income. Interestingly, it bothered me more than it bothered her. And she's not one who takes being dismissed lightly. Anway - sexist, ageist - not good for business, people. You'd think there'd be training about that or something.

---

Whenever Mom & Dad went car shopping, the salesmen would always address my father and ignore Mom. Until Dad turned to her and said, "I'll be across the street having a beer. Come get me when you're ready to sign the papers."

Hah! That reminds me of what my brother told me about the time he and his wife went to buy their first minivan. Cynthia is in charge of finances in their house (she can make a penny scream with pain), but they got the same treatment at the dealer. She let the guy continue on in that vein until they selected the car they wanted, and then she began the haggling. Ended up the dealership lost money on the sale, since she "forgot" to mention until the price was written in stone that she had already arranged for financing elsewhere, and the profit they were looking to get on the in-house financing wasn't going to happen.

It doesn't just happen to women, though. Cyn's dad, who was a very wealthy man due to some savvy real estate deals he made back in the 1950s, had a small tree nursery business that he started after retiring as a restauranteur. One day, he went shopping for a work truck in his shabby-looking work jeans. He got the "you can't afford our trucks!" attitude at one place, and got so fed up that he finally asked the salesman for the owner. He told the owner both his name and that he was willing to pay cash for the truck that day if he hadn't gotten treated the way he did, then he walked out. The owner was all apologies, but no deal.

---

Heh. The last time one of my cars had a major breakdown, I was in the middle of the wilds of outer Marin County at a rehearsal; the director very kindly waited until the tow truck came and then drove me into town, planning to give me a ride home. My car, not his. He wasn't a spouse or a relative or anything but a sub-minimum-wage employer for 2 hours a night. He and I both stated, repeatedly, that it was my car, that he knew nothing about it and it was a meaningless pile of metal to him; and still the gas station guy (who wasn't even a crotchety old sexist, but was probably 19, tops) kept talking to him and ignoring me. Finally, he said loudly, "So, I'll just wait outside while you get all the information you need from the actual owner of the car, kthxbye." The obviousness and impenetrability of the guy's cluelessness was gobsmacking.

I complained to the owner the next day, and he denied vigorously that anyone on his staff would ever do such an ignorant thing, and my director and I must have completely misunderstood the situation. There ain't enough @@ in the world.

---