Kind of like a cruel joke treasure hunt. My car failed emissions and the mechanic did $350 of repairs. My four-year-old Zoe and I had gone from office to office, appointment to appointment, we’d missed lunch, the check engine light was still on, and the last man we talked to behind a counter in a grubby waiting room was telling us to go somewhere else.
I’m a nice person. On a good day. When I’ve had a sandwich.
As the man handed me a print out with the new address of where we were supposed to go, I grunted thanks. Resigned. Resentful. Low blood sugar.
Then I hear a bright little voice behind me tell the man…
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