The world has enough crap but could probably use a little more me. And a little more you. Trust me, here…I’m right.

November 19, 2013 in Me and My Public Self

Yo.

Contrary to belief, I’m fairly low-key.  I tend to keep my crap to myself.

Especially here.  In my little corner of the world.

Because I think the world has enough bullying.  Enough shit-stirrers.  Enough politics.  Enough activism.  Enough protesting.  Enough opinions.  Enough dictating.  Enough do-it-my-way-or-else.

It ain’t needed here.  You can find that shit easier than I can find two boobs if I drop my face south right now.

(Easy peasy cheesy, Ouisy.)

None of this means I’m not passionate about things though.  Oh, I can get pretty passionate about things, believe me.

And just because I might get all passionate and strong-believer-ish-y on something  doesn’t mean I go all ballistic and start screaming and ranting and swinging my bra over my head and high-kicking in the streets.

Nope.

And here’s where I tell you what I’m finding myself becoming more and more passionate about.

Women getting older.

(More so, just ME getting older.  But I’ve got some room to squeeze y’all in with me.   But watch it and don’t get too close.  I just got my nails done.)

I heard a few years ago, that when a woman turns 40, something happens.

And boy, does it.

Attitude changes.  Tolerance changes.  Desire to be loved by everyone at any costs changes.  Acceptance changes.  Understanding changes.  Patience changes.

Shit.  Life changes.

We become wiser.  Smarter.  Wittier.  Hotter.  Sexier.  Beautiful-er.  Confident-er.  Fuck-it-all-er.  Mysterious-er.  Stealthier.  Independent-er.

And that right there, is some good stuff, sisters.

Let me tell you what happened last weekend to illustrate just what I’m talking about.

(Illustrate?  Who SAYS that??)

I decided I was ready to start car shopping.  But I get very intimidated with a car dealer.  I’ve never enjoyed the process and would rather eat a turd than stand on a car dealership lot for hours.

Or so I thought.

Keith and I arrive and are greeted.  Well, HE’S greeted with a firm handshake and a deep-voiced “Good afternoon, sir…”  After about 12 seconds of me being apparently completely invisible, Keith says, “This is my wife, Carrie.”

Here it comes.

Instead of a firm handshake, I get a big ol’smile with wide eyes, a jutting neck and all of a sudden the voice is so high a dog came running up, “Well, hello there, ma’am…and just how are you doing today?”

Very Howdy-Doody-ish.

Not.  Kidding.  I could feel my right eyebrow start to twitch.

Moving forward…we test drive a car with my trap shut tight most of the time.  I love the car but ain’t dicking with Howdy Doody.  Into the dealership office we go.

Howdy Doody:  “If you folks will sit right here, I’ll go get the paperwork so we can see what we’ve got here.  Keith, would you like something to drink?”

Keith:  “I’m good…thanks.”

Howdy Doody:  “Ma’am…how about you?  Maybe some water?”

He remembered Keith’s name.  I’m just Ma’am.  And MAYBE SOME WATER? 

And then:

Howdy Doody:  “Keith, if I can go ahead and get your identification I’ll get a copy made and we’ll get started.”

Not mine.  Just Keith’s.

And Keith gives it to him.

After about 18 minutes, he comes back with his “manager”, hands Keith his identification and they are ready to deal.  They start the sale of how great the car is and how it’s rated top amongst some group I ain’t ever heard of and how they just have to move it off the lot and how they’re ready to give it away and how it’s the car Jesus would drive if Jesus drove a car.

They throw a number out at Keith.  The best price they can do. 

I’ve said nothing.  Not one word.

And Keith looks at me.

Keith:  “I think this is where you take over.”

Howdy Doody’s manager:  “Oh, well ma’am…what DO you think?  We’d like to know your thoughts, too now!”

(Again, so high-pitched, that dog came running back.)

Me (very low, very soft, very southern, with an extra dose of twang):  “I sure hope you want to know my thoughts.  I’m the one buying.”

Crickets.  I just smile.  And stare.

Howdy Doody:  “Oh, wonderful!  And what was your name again, ma’am?”

Keith just slumped down in his chair, put his hand over his face as I sat up straight and tall.  I was in the game now and my fucking name ain’t “Ma’am.”

Me (very low, very soft, very southern, with an extra dose of twang):  “Well, boys.  I am pre-approved by my credit union and I’m ready to make the purchase.  However, because the vehicle has no sun roof…I’d like you come down off that price about $1,500.  Do that and I’ll sign right now.”

Howdy Doody:  “Now, Keith…the deal we’re offering you…”

Me (very low, very soft, very southern, with an extra dose of twang):  “Excuse me, but “Keith” is not purchasing this vehicle.  His name will be nowhere on the note.  This is alllll mine.  I suggest you speak to me now.”

And I smile.  And tilt my head.  And kinda wink.

Howdy Doody’s manager:  “Ma’am…just how much have you been pre-approved for?  We’re going to need to know that before we go any farther.  Maybe this is just too much car for you?”

Me (you know by now my tone):  “HAHAHA…really, now?  That’s my part of this game.  Your part is to sale me that car at a price I agree to, not the price I am pre-approved for.  You see, “sir”, this is a ‘want’ situation for me and certainly not a ‘need’.  I will walk away from a ‘want’ very easy.  And you can just lay your little head down tonight on your pillow with that car still on your lot thinking this is too much car for me if that makes you feel better.  But I assure you, it’s not.”

Keith is kinda bug-eyed now.  Not moving.  Barely breathing. 

They wrote down a number and spun the notepad around to me, as if I couldn’t hear if they just spoke the new price, and again I declined.

Me (same tone):  “Well, math has never been my strong point, but I don’t believe that’s $1,500 less.  Or is it?”

They both look at Keith at the same time.  As if choreographed.  He just shrugged, closed his eyes and shook his head.

After about 15 more minutes of the notepad spinning and questioning me on just how much I could afford to spend….I got hungry.

And that was all she wrote.

Me:  “Well, I appreciate you boys time…but I think we’re just gonna have to call it a day.  Keith…shall we?”

And I stood up.  To crickets.

And as they stuttered and stumbled and pissed on the floor and trying to get Keith’s attention….we walked out with me asking Keith where he was taking me for lunch.

(Best damn etoufee ever to enter my pie hole.  Ever.  Except my momma’s, of course.)

Now.  You see?

Years ago, I would have fumbled and probably cried like a girl and gave my soul to them.  Not now.  Screw’em.  I work hard for my money and nobody is going to overlook me or my opinion or my thoughts or my ideas.

I’m where I am because of the shit I’ve been through.  The disappointments.  The hardships.  The heartbreak.  The tears.  The kicked walls.  The broke fingernails.

And so I leave you with this:

Tame Women

Because THAT says it all.

Don’t let anyone smother who you are.  Don’t tame yourself and don’t let anyone else attempt to.  The older we get the better we get and the more perfect we become.

You’ve come a long way, baby.  Stand tall and stand firm.  You deserve it.  But even more, you’ve earned it.

(And don’t give me crickets.)

{ 22 comments }

Barbara November 19, 2013 at 1:11 pm

Seems like the older I get the more my tolerance for b.s. drops. Good for you for walking out. So many cars to choose from!
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Carrie November 19, 2013 at 2:21 pm

I’m telling you, girl…things that used to keep me up at night no longer make me blink.

And I love it.

Amber November 19, 2013 at 7:04 pm

Great post! I find that the older I get, the crankier I am. Meaning I’m not as worried to share my opinions.
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Carrie November 19, 2013 at 8:38 pm

SAME HERE. Call it cranky, bitchy, naggy….whatever you want! I don’t give a rats ass anymore.

It is what it is…and I love it.

Mimi Gin November 19, 2013 at 7:23 pm

LOVE IT! The last 2 cars and the house we just bought – did the exact same thing. Let them smooze hubby and then
stepped in and let them know that I was the signer, not him. Hate it when sales people act like if you have boobs you don’t have a brain.

Carrie November 19, 2013 at 8:40 pm

You said it, sister. I really surprised myself. I had an assfull and was tired of being “the little lady.”

Hollie November 19, 2013 at 7:23 pm

Damn. Right. Love it!!!!

Carrie November 19, 2013 at 8:41 pm

Thank you, thank you. Amazing what us girls have to get tired of dealing with, huh?

Diane November 19, 2013 at 8:09 pm

Tom and I absolutely loved this! I could just picture you at that dealership. All I can say is “You go girl!”

Love ya!

Carrie November 19, 2013 at 8:42 pm

HA! Love y’all more.

Keith said he hadn’t seen that side of me before…said he was proud I didn’t just roll over.

As if. =)

Hanna Elizabeth November 19, 2013 at 9:14 pm

Oh my god, Carrie! You had me laughing my ass off! I actually got the stink eye from my crew, but that only made me laugh harder!

I know I’m not there yet (shh now, I’m close enough) but I’m already starting this transition. Which is fine by me, because I’m realizing all that stress, panic, inner-chaos, etc. was a lot less useful than this calm thing I have going on now. I do find myself inordinately amused by things that would have had my flight or flight mode in high gear once upon a time.

Carrie November 19, 2013 at 9:49 pm

It hits when you don’t know it.

One day some crap will come out of your mouth and you’ll look around and ask, “Who was that?”

Not kidding. Something just clicks on the inside and you’re all of a sudden a new you.

Whether you like it or not. But I promise…you’ll like it. =)

Lisa Hewitt November 19, 2013 at 9:51 pm

Too much car for you? My response to them- Bitches Please. You should run over them with your new car, that you didn’t buy from them. I’ll be 50 next month, clearly, I do not give a fuck. Don’t get me started on pre-approval – I’m fairly certain their penis size would be called into question. Muah

Carrie November 20, 2013 at 10:06 am

50 next month?!? Well, happy friggin birthday a little early, darlin’!!

And THAT is exactly what I’m talking about. You’d think in todays time, with women working as much as men and sometimes making more, there still wouldn’t be “the little lady” syndrome in some areas.

But, are they ever.

Reeeediculous.

Jennifer November 20, 2013 at 11:08 am

I love this. I had something very similar happen with the car I bought before the one I have now. That guy didn’t sell me a car either. When I walked out David said, “that guy just made a huge mistake. I can’t believe he treated you that way.” I went to another dealership, spoke with a much younger salesman whose momma had taught him that women have a brain, and bought a car.
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Carrie November 20, 2013 at 11:24 am

I believe it. I can see where the younger generation see things in a whole new light.

Possibly raised by a single working mom? Maybe saw the struggles mom went through and the fights she encountered?

Or maybe even had a dad who whipped his ass when he disrespected his mom or girls and taught him that women are more than baby-havers and dishwashers?

katie metzroth November 22, 2013 at 8:39 am

I do not believe you. There is no way I’m going to be smarter, wittier, hotter…at 40. wait. I could probably be more mysterious. and stealthy. I’m not very stealthy at all………and now I’m totally going to try to sneak up on you sometime soon. :)

I love that you just up and left!!!! :) I’m not gonna lie. I think you were a lot more classy than I am at dealerships. Not that I’m not classy, but they don’t get any winking. :) (they do get to watch me knit socks while I wait)
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Carrie November 22, 2013 at 8:53 am

You’re right. There’s no way YOU could be any more of anything at 40. You’re way ahead of the ballgame…I should take notes.

=) Love you.

Alison November 23, 2013 at 8:39 am

Hell, I want you in my corner!
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Carrie November 23, 2013 at 3:24 pm

Well…I must say, I DONE GOOD.

Got the car Thursday.

At a better price. From a nicer dude. With a daddy who raised him to show respect. (I know that because he worked for his daddy…which is fine by me.)

I’M IN HEAVEN. I LOVE IT!

Bobbi December 2, 2013 at 11:34 am

Wow you go girl and I believe that you shouldn’t let them bully them.
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Carrie December 3, 2013 at 12:24 pm

It all worked out! Got what I want and it was all smooth and flawless!

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