Desperately Seeking Man, Woman or Whatever (537 words)

Fellow twit, (or is it twatt), writer Thomas Gerhardt (@ThomasRHart) twirped this morning: “The idea that narrowing your mind's vision makes you an "expert" at anything neglects that #common #sense itself is universal.” I’ll be damned if I know what he means, but it brings to mind my current problem.

I need a man. Or a woman. Hell, I even thought of trying out my preschool toddler , but this proved fruitless as you’ll see why.

It’s because of my car. For over two months now I’ve been having this problem with my car. It won’t start. Always. I mean, it won’t always start. But it sometimes does. Which makes it less of a problem. I’m currently on sabbatical. Between jobs. Just finished a university course actually. Well in fact, without a job. Ok then, unemployed.

The problem with the car hasn’t been a huge problem. Up until the day of the job interview that is. You see, while I was on my university course things were pretty ok, because the only "serious daily deadline" (sounds like a tv show) I had was the beginning of classes at 10am. My preschooler I could take to kindergarten on foot. No problem.

I learnt pretty early on in the problem that it wasn’t the battery nor was it the starter. I also found out that if I was patient and understanding, it would start eventually. It always worked. Within the half hour. So it wasn’t a major problem then. I contentedly carried on like this for a matter of weeks before I finally went to the local mechanic. He confirmed my suspicions that it was indeed not the battery nor the starter. What then?

Turns out it was the petrol tank pump. Me: “Is that a major problem then?” He: “Well, just hold on a minute and eh let me try something”. Me: “Er, well that won’t be any good. She’s, er, starting today”. He: “The next time she doesn’t start, come in to me”. Me: “Ehm, if she doesn’t start, how can I ...”. He: “Oh, yeah!”. (common sense? WHO’s the f***ing expert???)

Long short, one day while I was there, actually there at the garage, the car beautifully and dutifully PERFORMED and did not start. Off goes mechanicman to get his assistant mechanic, who manoeuvres towards us, with a HAMMAR, and proceeds to lie down on the ground and wallop my baby’s petrol tank while the mechanicman turns the key. Bingo. Starts. Problem solved.

Problem not solved. Have YOU ever tried to hit the petrol tank of your car WHILE turning the key in the ignition. Smart ass!

I need a man. Or a woman. Or whatever. To hit the bleedin’ petrol tank while I turn the key.

It doesn’t take much common sense to see that I’m an expert on this.

One more thing. Could you bring a hammer with you?


PS I swear I had more important things to write about today. The Queens visit, the passing of the Gentle Giant, the extended Ó Bama family, Ó Cuiv's spectacular exit from the Dáil! What am I like? One tweet and I’m yours! Oh well, will just have to do that tomorrow. No not mañana. Amárach! (Unless I have another job interview that is).
PPS The job interview? Oh I’ll tell you about that another day!