Still have a burr in my saddle, if I had a saddle. Whatever having something ‘stuck in my craw” means, it’s repulsive, and that’s where I was this past Tuesday night.
My craw was a logjam, standing room only, packed like a can of sardines.
In case you watched MLB’s All-Star game from Denver (the ratings indicate not many of you tuned in), you can attest the American League beat their National League brethren 5-3 in a ho-hum game devoid of much excitement.
I couldn’t get relaxed. I was too busy seething, believing that Rob Manfred will hands down win the Putz of the Year award. I wonder if all those Battery businesses figuring to make bank before the event was removed from Atlanta’s to-do list had a Babe-Ruthian case of red-rump?
The game had no business being played in Colorado. It was our game, and Manfred, that little twerp, stole it. It is estimated that game cost Atlanta $70 million. And that’s not counting all the bad feelings and ill-will that caused us Georgia residents to belch bad hotdogs when Hank Aaron was being feted at Coors Field.
Hank belongs to us, not to a place more renowned for pot stores than putouts.
In some small way, we got the last laugh. I quit counting at 10 the commercials lam-basting those responsible for taking away the game. It was an indictment against politicians and policymakers. I cheered each ad.
It caused me great glee to see those opposing an unclear Georgia voting law take a beanball in the noggin. The larceny of the game being in Colorado hurt those workers who could have used the boost in bucks.
Truist Park workers are among the friendliest in all of baseball. They deserved better. And so did the Braves fans who wanted to use the game and the activities to have a once-in-a-lifetime experience with their sons.
Go ahead and play the game next July in Los Angeles. Most of us here won’t be involved.
• • •
A pleasant car buying experience. Somewhere in there is a gargantuan oxymoron.
No haggle pricing to me means “don’t bother coming in.” In reality, does anyone buy a car and pay the asking price? No negotiating equals no sale to me.
One of the funniest comedies (another oxymoron) was “Used Cars.” During a particularly heated negotiation a customer low-balled the salesman, opining $100 never killed anybody.
On cue, the manager comes in, contract in hand and red-faced as a tomato, smack-dab in the middle of a myocardial infarction.
I recently purchased a new Hyundai Tucson from the local dealership. I read online reviews that spoke glowingly of Elijah Salemi. The reviews didn’t do this young man justice.
He was way better than his advanced billing.
It was a flawless process, if you don’t consider the car being unavailable (computer chip shortage) and no earthly idea when one would become available. From our first meeting, 23-year-old Eli proved wise beyond his years as he explained all the features and benefits of my chosen chariot.
Let’s back up. I have never been a Hyundai fan. Years ago, the brand was synonymous with questionable quality. That was many moons ago. My Tucson has a 5-year, 60,000-mile warranty, 3 years of free maintenance and a plethora of assurances that Hyundai backs what they sell.
Elijah has an endearing personality and is the only “Elijah” I’ve ever been familiar with, save for the Old Testament prophet. He was all about outstanding customer service, resulting in a sale and profit for his bosses.
After patiently explaining the features and benefits, Eli is still available for a call. The commercials featuring The Avengers got me interested in the car. Pre-deal conversations with Eli made me want the car.
He also gave me faith in our youth. Many of those in Eli’s generation (X, Y, Z?) are sorely in need of some good press. It’s refreshing to see an industrious, committed youngster who has learned how to take care of customers.
Mike Tasos’ column appears every other weekend. I love doing business with those a lot younger than me. They make me feel wise. Or maybe they take pity on an old curmudgeon. He is on Facebook and can be emailed at email@example.com.