During a time in which it seems that all of the Kennedy’s are passing, so is the idea of customer service at Kennedy Transmission located in Plymouth, MN. I had decided to go there after my fiance had told me about a very cheap $18 oil change and the nice people who work there. She had made an appointment for me, written it down and told me to go. I went. When I arrived they told me that I was late for the appointment and that it was half an hour prior to the time I had shown up. I felt bad that we had mixed this up. Despite everything they said the could still get me in real quick, so I accepted. I did notice a hint of what I interpreted as grumpiness at that point, but I figured, hey I’m “supposedly” late and they are still getting me in, so it’s fine. When I had gotten out of my car to come into the crummy little office area, I had grabbed an empty Diet Coke can and some old gas station variety “mini” pizza boat wrappers that were in my cup holders. When my car gets messy I try to throw something away with each stop. I was under the assumption that there would be a garbage can either outside of the store or inside of it. I never saw one, so after I was told that they could still squeeze my car into their schedule, I asked politely, “Do you have a garbage can I could throw this away in?”. (note at this time I had just watched who I will assume was either the schedule book jockey or possibly an ugly spiky haired cousin of Roger Clemens throw a styrofoam coffee cup into a garbage can right behind the front desk) He told me NO in a very unhappy voice as he looked at what I was holding. He then told me I could walk around the back of the building to the dumpsters. I did this and ended up getting some kind of slime on my arm from the dirty gate that was in front of their dumpster. So I walk back into the store and sit down in the little waiting room, which puts you in a very intimate proximity to the desk guy. I look over at the pot of coffee they have set out for customers. There were no cups, so I couldn’t have any. I didn’t want to ask jerkface for one at this point either. Tick tock, tick tock it is starting to take a really long time (over twenty minutes) and my car hadn’t even been brought into the garage yet. I again try to do the whole, “Hey ya know… It’s alright, I was late. I can just reschedule.” He assured me they would get to it instead of understanding that I wanted to head out. He also pronounced this in a stearn way.I had to go to work soon. I think that’s why they take the keys before they actually really need them, you’re trapped. He came off like a jerk again, just a bitch tone with hints of superiority and arrogance sprinkled in. So I sit there. There was a side game I found that amused me somewhat. The game involved the only magazines that I really noticed, which were outdated Alaska Travel and Vacation guides. I scanned the Kennedy Softball team photo they had so proudly displayed, trying to figure out which member was sticking up the pages of Alaska Monthly. I couldn’t figure it out. So I wait a little bit longer in complete silence with the grumpy guy sitting very near me on the other side of the desk. He could just be having a bad day, it happens to everyone. Well no. This barely attractive blond gal comes into the store to pay for her oil change. I have to say, she was a 6.2 out of 10. Blonde, heavier set, with that “easy” look scribed all over her desperate face. Suddenly I am watching the most “bubbly, yet sad hickish attempt, to get one flirt recognized” version of jerkface desk man helping this young lady right in front of me. As she leaves I also watch him do a very obvious up and down scan of her back side. He then looks at me like I shouldn’t be looking at him. Long part of the story short, I get all the rest taken care of and leave much later than I had ever expected. I went to work. Then at 10:40pm at night my tire blows out on 694 westbound. I am not sure if it was sabotage, but it left me wondering.