Losing your mind for the sake of your <3

As promised, here's a couple of the true stories of my life working for Dunder Muffler under the regional manager/owner, Cecil Scott.

Last week, a couple days after "The Fight" (which, ironically enough, there really is an episode of The Office called "The Fight") between German (pronounced Herman, don't ask) and Chris, my dad decided to hold a meeting.

"Everyone, outside by the first rack! I mean everyone! Even you, Britney! We're having a meeting! [Translation: "Everyone in the conference room, immediately!"]

"German, I need you to translate for me since Chris and Robert don't speak English very well. Ready? K, Listen everyone. We need to start getting along with each other [German translates into Spanish]. I know that everyone has different personalities and it's sometimes hard when you see each other so much [pauses for translation], but it's even hard to get along with your family sometimes [la familia blah blah blah] and you can't love anyone as much as you love your family [you're getting the whole translation bit, I hope]. It doesn't matter what happens, you've just got to stick it out and be nice. I'm not saying you need to be best friends, you just need to get along and not fight."

He continued on. The meeting was about five minutes long about love and unity in the office, I was trying to keep from erupting in laughter and thinking "I cannot wait to tell Mom, Grandma, and Misty about this!!!" and "What episode have I seen this exact meeting on before...?".

He finishes, "So everyone try to get along a little bit better from now on [espanol]. Gracias."

Yes, he really said "Gracias." Not German, but my dad (although I'm sure German probably translated it anyways, not to mention my dad as an awful Spanish accent...). Then he waltzes off. Meeting adjourned. Back to work, as I finally let all of the laughter out and my dad sadly realizes what just happened.

On another occasion, on this past Monday, to be exact, I arrived at work quite a bit early so I could give my dad a ride home since he and my mom were leaving for Hawaii that day. He wanted to take his truck, and I didn't argue because the Tundra is pretty much awesome. So I'm driving, and he keeps staring out of the windshield onto the hood on the driver's side. It's making me really nervous, so I tell him to stop. We get to the house and, of course, he jumps out and goes over to the hood to examine it more closely. I'm sitting in the car, while it's running, waiting for him to get off the stinkin' car so I can get back to work (surprising, I know, but Life at the shop is a completely different experience when C. Scott is on gay-cation).

So ten minutes have passed. He's rubbing, licking, and eyeing the hood from all sorts of positions and angles. Then he asks me, "Does that look like a dent to you?"

It was harder to identify as a dent than trying to find Waldo in a "Where's Waldo?" book.

"Yes, Dad. It's hard to see, but I think it is a dent." Though I'm sure he probably dented it even more while rubbing it down...

"How the heck did a dent get there?!?" he asked.

All I can do at this point is smile and say, "Maybe it got there when you hit Meredith in the parking lot."

Life's pretty entertaining when your father and Steve Carrel could be interchangeable in some ways, except for the whole "acting" thing. I think all this teasing of my dad about being Michael Scott has kinda gone to his head...