WHILE WAITING AT HONDA in the customer service area for my car to be repaired, a stylish 60-something woman spotted me reading my book, sat down beside me and started chatting.
That’s what they all do the minute they see me. They start talking.
She told me more than I wanted to know about her: she was retired, single, living on a fixed income, buying her sheets at one department store but her towels at a different one, preferred olive oil from upscale cooking stores rather than the grocery, and watched [nameless] funny TV shows each night.
# # #
COME TO FIND OUT, this woman had brought her car into Honda Service, without an appointment, because the remote transmitter battery in her car’s key was failing. The battery needed to be replaced.
To me, this seemed simple enough. To her, however, this was a big deal.
What this woman did not seem to understand was that even when the battery part of her key went dead, she could still insert the key into the car lock and turn the key manually to open the car door.
# # #
NO, SHE THOUGHT THAT when the car key battery went dead she’d have to have the car towed from who knows where and replace the whole lock– which was going to cost hundreds of dollars.
So there I sat a victim of chit-chat overload, dumbfounded by what I’d heard. Somewhat baffled, almost wordless.
I was about to explain to her how locks work when the service department called her name indicating that they had completed her repair. So I said “good-bye” and was left to wonder why it is that the clueless people find me– even when I’m minding my own business, they. find. me.