Have you ever had an argument with someone who would rather argue the semantics of your statement, rather than the meat of it?
It’s one of the most frustrating things in the world, and I’m not a happy camper if frustrated – Sir can attest to this through his close encounters of the third kind with his lovely lady wife. It’s not pretty, I can assure you.
Just like today when I had to endure an hour and a half trying to enroll myself telephonically in a drug insurance plan. Sir could see the steam coming out of my ears from across the room and wisely said nothing.
Sorry – I digressed. There’s a court in Michigan which has just inverted itself and pulled itself through its own fundamental orifice in deciding a case. The outcome is so bloody stupid to me, I just had to share it with you.
Long story short, a guy took his car to a dealership and had the service department rotate his tires. Job done, he was told, he toddled off down the street and two blocks away the left front tire fell off or as that fabulous comedian Ron White said “it fell off – it fell off – it fell the #$% off!”
Crash went our driver; injuries were sustained and damages were awarded – to a point. Oh, he got $40,000 in damages, but the $70,000 in costs were appealed.
Evidently the point at which it all came to a grinding halt was an argument by the legal beagles to the judges over the definition of the word “perform.”
Bottom line? “The term ‘perform’ as used in context by the Legislature does not support the conclusion that the ‘repairs must be performed successfully or without error.’”
Um, excuse the hell out of me here, but I would’ve thought this would give mechanics leave to rotate your tires and not bother screwing any of them in – or lugnutting or whatever one does – at all. Just leave the tires dangling on their axles with nothing but gravity leaving them in any proximity to the road or the car, and hope everything turns out just fine and dandy.
So – er – correct me if I’m wrong, but the law evidently in this case states that you can pay for a job to be done, but it doesn’t have to be done right? Really?
I will therefore rush into work, do a half-assed job, take a four-hour lunch, give myself a manicure, and expect to be paid at the end of the day. No court in the land would uphold my firing, according to this nonsensical drivel.
To the surgeon – that’s OK, take my appendix out, but don’t bother with all that pesky sewing at the end. To the dentist – by all means drill my tooth for a root canal, but do feel free to leave part of the root in. To the general contractor building my dream home – it’s OK if the roof leaks, gee whiz, you did your best, didn’t you?
What a load of cobblers, I say!
I will always remember my dear departed Dad’s words: “I don’t care what you do, just make sure you’re the best at it.”
Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.