Dunder Muffler, this is Britney.

Allow me to tell you about my summer job. I am working for Bob's Muffler and Radiator Shop. I started the week after finals and I will finish the first week of August. I basically help customers, make out receipts and take money from people, a little bookwork, but mostly, I pick up vehicles from our accounts' shops and bring them in to get work done, then drive them back and collect on the bill. I'm doing the same thing I did from 2007 to 2008 before I started school, but now I only work Monday through Friday from 9am until 4pm at the latest. Usually, it's more like until 1pm or 2pm. Well, Bob's Muffler has something like 1,400 accounts of varying specialties. We do business with smog shops, tire shops, automotive repair shops, car and truck accessories, windshield repair, etc. Though we don't obviously do work for all 1,400 accounts daily, we do an average of 10-15 pickups everyday. It's kinda cool because I've driven so many different models of cars. I've driven a limousine, ice cream trucks, UHAUL giant moving trucks, brand new BMWs, sports cars, big ol' diesel trucks and more. I even drove an old school Rolls-Royce one time. On the other side of the pendulum, however, I have driven cars that barely have room for a driver because there is junk piled from floor to ceiling throughout the car. I've driven cars that have no radio, no signal switch, the odometer, speedometer, gas gauge and seat belts are all broken, and you have to start the car with a screwdriver. I've seen cars with a milk crate for the seat, you have to pull a string in the trunk to get the fuel door to open, and food in the car that is so moldy, I've started thinking about my funeral arrangements because I'm confident I'm about to catch a deadly disease from breathing the air.
Now, I may very well have most of you fooled, but allow me to tell you about the real Britney. She's terrible. She is grouchy and mean and hateful, especially when she is hot, hungry, or around Jim Coker, the world's most primitive being known to still be living.
The weather this summer has been absolutely gorgeous...until last week. When I found out that I would be working for my dad for the summer, I knew this heat wave was coming. I really feel very blessed that my first month of employment was as beautiful as it was. But now it's mid-June and it's 99 degrees outside, and I am hating life. Last week, I had to drive a black 1987 mustang that had been sitting in the sun with the windows rolled up for a good 4 hours at least. The driver side door wouldn't open from the outside, so I had to go to the passenger side, reach over and try to open the door, nearly pulling a muscle (this 5'2" body does NOT come equipped with Go Go Gadget Arms, thank you very much). Much to my dismay, not only was the passenger seat somehow not attached to the floor of the car, causing it (and me) to fall into the backseat, but also, I discovered that the driver side door doesn't open from the inside of the car either. I had to climb across from the passenger side. I'm certain you could never imagine the joy this thought brought into my life. After mustering up the strength to thrust myself across the broken passenger seat and into the driver's seat, I knocked my knee on the shifter, held my tongue, and then got into position and started the car. I was feeling quite toasty, and since the A/C refused to blow anything but boiling hot lava air into my face, I thought I'd roll down the windows. EEEEEEEEEEY. Wrong! Neither of the windows rolled down. So there I sat baking for 15 minutes at 350 degrees until tomato red. Once I pulled the car onto a rack at the shop, you better believe I emerged from the passenger side door feeling like Jim Carrey emerging from a malfunctioning robotic rhinoceros. I'm pretty sure my coworkers thought I was having a heat stroke, as did I. You'd think this is a fluke situation and that people would be more concerned with fixing other essential parts of their car...like the doors. But no. Sadly, this kind of situation, though not always quite this extreme, happens to me on a pretty regular basis. This makes for a very cranky Britney.
Additionally, David and I are on a strict diet that is crazy painful, but pretty effective. I won't go into all the details now, but basically, we follow a meal plan, 4 meals per day for 11 days. Then we get 3 days off, and back on again. I am currently on day 10 and ready to eat anything that comes between me and homemade pizza this weekend.
And then there's Jim. He's crazy. I could tell you the story about how he once told me he can't wear thermals under his work clothes in the winter because he has "too much body hair" and it makes him feel claustrophobic. Or how he gets very upset when he orders 2 orders of 3 piece egg rolls from Jack in the Box and they don't give him six or more dipping sauces. Or about how everytime he and his wife decide to split up (at least twice a year) he starts seriously dating other women he met at Trout's bar in Oildale, only to dump them very suddenly to go back to his wife. But none of these stories will ever fully explain how crazy he drives me. You just have to be around him to understand. But anyway, I take orders from this guy all day.
As you can imagine, the combination of these three separate things make me the crankiest woman in the world. Poor David. But in all seriousness, this job has been such a huge blessing. I get to use a shop truck to get to and from work, which is perfect because David needs the car to get to Shafter and he works much earlier and a little later than I do. Also, I hardly had to search for a job at all. It just fell into my lap. And I don't have to work crazy long days like I used to. I average about 15-20 hours a week, which is less than I was hoping for, but it's better than 0 and also, better than 47.
Just for fun... Meet Jim. How old do you think this man is?