Sneakiest Sneakors
Cootules I knows what you will say given a chance; ‘Sneakors! EMG! I CAN'T HIDE ALL THIS CUTENESS! Also u has not been very sneakorsy recently.’ And this is truthies. Maybe it’s been the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s been the irregular meals. Maybe it’s been the cute girls not admitting to being cute. Actually pretty sure it’s the cute girls one. The result has been a passive sneakors who trolls as convenient opportunities present themselves… until today...
I'm sittin’ there munching on ma’ Mongolian Pork at home when my phone starts blowin’ up. 5 missed calls in 4 minutes; we're looking at psycho ex levels of freak out here. And for once I know exactly what’s going on.
Eventually I respond to one of the communications and get brought up to speed. Turns out they have a work order under the name ‘Wiper Tech’ which they believe to be me. Oddly enough, they also have a key and fob, but when they venture out into the parking lot the car keeps comin’ up missing. Most of my communication is going through Ansel who is playing pet rock levels of dumb. Eventually the guy assigned to the service in question contacts me directly; I'll tell you now Brad is none too pleased by any of this. By the time contact is established he seems very certain that he has a handle on things. His theory is that the key in his hands goes to the Premium Mustang GT owned by my mother. An irrefutable theory right up until he gets a picture of a Ford key belonging to the Mustang in question; keys don’t match. Shortly after this revelation all lines go cold and I am left perplexed as to the circumstance at hand.
Next day I return to work as scheduled and eventually find a key with fob. A tag still on it related to the work order referenced before. First thing I hear is Rick talking across the shop; “He’s found the key. Don’t acknowledge him.” Obviously I was a bit perplexed and thankfully Ansel was around to fill me in. Turns out Brad got his hands on the key and went to the general lot we use for the shop. That quickly dried up so he proceeded out of sight into the shared lot in search of my car. We are talking about over half a square mile worth of space loaded with cars. I’m sure you’d like a description of Brad's state, but I don’t know. No one knows. All I could find was that he went looking for the car and returned one and a half hours later. Based on my text record he still had the key on him 3 and a half hours after the work order was made.
Ansel continued to be the Team Troll hero that no one saw coming. He felt this was a serious matter and, ignoring the direct communication I was having with him, called for me over the PA. He then took a break er… I mean went searching for the car himself in the parking lot for thirty minutes.
Various other people reacted as you’d expect. Rick spent the entire day laughing as the situation devolved into a disaster; all work ground to a halt. The management also went on the hunt for the car; nothing found. All stories confirmed Brad’s disappearance and inability to focus on anything for the remainder of the day.
However in classic Sneakors fashion the question is less about what has gone down and more about the machinations behind the scenes which have lead to the catastrophe at hand. Why did things play out this way? Why was Brad so driven? What was the plan? How did I get away wid it? I guess we’ll has to go back…
So there I was working the day before. Wid Ansel. As he's about to leave I mention something might go down. No details are given, but he accepts this as a warning. A very serious warning. The kind of thing that might cause a man to steel himself against disasters ahead and keep his wit sharp. Seems this paragraph didn’t explain things at all; guess we’re going back again.
So a day before that I’m closing with Brad. Things wined down and we have a heart to heart. I ask if he could identify my car off the key. He says “yes.” Not just ‘yes’; ‘yes’ is an understatement. He is resolute and certain; entirely convinced that if my key falls into his hands that he’ll know the car. That regardless of logic or rationale he would identify the car by his soul bond with it. Become some kind of soothsaying prodigy and astral predict the exact vehicle in question. A series of bold and resolute claims could drive a man mad if brought to reality...
So around a week before that I is off being a sneakors and having sneakorsy thoughts. And den I has an epifanie; time to troll Brad. I knows you thinks I is always thinking about trolling peoples, but really I thinks about cute girls and getting them to admit to their cutieness. So, I hatches a plan as a sneakors does. I shows up at the Ford dealer in ma luxury barge and wander around a bit. Salesman comes up to me and asks if I needs service… cuz the first place I go looking for service on my Infiniti is a Ford dealer. I tell him I need a dummy key and I get a trip to the service area. Repeat the story to the service guy; he pulls his desk back revealing an ancient key. He jokingly tells me that he had this key dropped on his desk forever ago and he’ll give it to me for $20. I’m not joking; his eyes go wide when I drop $20 and snatch the key.
I knows what you is thinking. ‘Sneakors, u paid $20 for some random key and fob that could go to literally any 2000s Ford.’ But thing is that I had talkies wid Logan during lunch about it and we figured it goes to a Ford GT; THAT Ford GT. The road legal race car Ford GT. And as it turns out the going rate for a key/fob for a Ford GT is exactly $20. To be fair I can’t prove it goes to a Ford GT, but then again you can’t not prove it doesn't go to a Ford GT.
Now wid nearly all questions answered on a timeline that would confuse Doctor Who; how could I have possibly gotten away wid this? I mean even if I swagers my way in with a key in hand there is no way I could get a service written up. Everyone knows u has to present a bunch of information and den the service writer has to check over your vehicle. But I couldn’t just write up the work order myself because I was off the clock. However it turned out to be quite simple; incompetence.
I’m doin’ my swagger walk through the adjacent store while grinning ear to ear; all bad signs. I stroll up to my own manager who is playing the part of service writer. He really does not want to do anything and that includes everything. Take note of the fact that I didn't come from the parking lot? Not worth his thought. Go look at the car I want service on? Not worth walking out. Check over my info? Not worth his time. First words out of my mouth; 'Time to troll Brad!' Does not phase him. I give him a phone number. He finds ‘Wiper Tech’ listed. I tell him to select the Ford GT. Not a flinch. I ask for a flat repair and tell him I want Brad to do it. Not even a question. I hand over keys and a hot ticket gets sent into the shop; Wiper Tech, my colloquial pseudonym, requests the service of Brad on his Ford GT. I then swagger my way out of sight and break into a full sprint back to the unicorn. Chirp chirp vrooom and I am one mile a way in 3 minutes flat.
No doubt by this point there has been many chortles; the trolling of Brad, antics of Ansel, momentary ruin of a shop, incompetence of more than I have spare fingers to count. However you is more adorable than you is cute and more clever than you is adorable; things was smooth, too smooth. Even wid everything coming up Team Troll it seems as if something is missing. Like some sort of impossible sleight of hand made things fit in order…
So there I was closing a week ago after I had ma troll key. Brody and I were laughing together over Bean's choice in cars. As he headed to the time clock I held back saying I needed to check something. At the dark dead of the counter with my face only lit by a monitor I set to work. All old records of myself and relatives; expunged. I jumbled numbers and names so bad that even I couldn’t find them seconds after I changed them. I then created the ‘Wiper Tech’ and populated the selection with the cars I may have owned. I was delighted to find that the 2006 Ford GT was recognized as a car and selected it with the license plate ‘HIBRAD’.
U obviously has concerns here; if I created a new entry under a new name then I had to put in my phone number and address. If information was omitted then it would be pretty suspect that sneakorsy afoot; even to the most incompetent. So, as required, I submitted a phone number; Brad’s phone number. I then selected my obvious address; the police station that most of the cops hail from who are familiar with him.
As of this moment Brad has not taken note of the details related to my account; these are not available within the shop. However as confusion turns to anger turns to desperation; he might look it up. Any normal person would simply check Google, but this is Brad. There is a not insignificant chance that he goes to ‘my place’ on a Mountain Dew fueled bender blinded by visions of a Ford GT. This is not over.
