I Don't **** Well Believe It

Alegedly, I bought a car on Friday.

I was told, on Friday that it would be Tuesday or (more likely) Wednesday for pick up. Fine. I know it takes time to sort out tax and the like.

Fair enough.

I spoke to the girl who I've been dealing with yesterday. "Oh yes," she said. "It'll probably be tomorrow."

Bitch.

She's had a day off today.

Having not heard anything by 5:30 this afternoon, I phoned. "Oh no," said the guy who I was passed to, "it won't be ready until tomorrow - we don't even get the tax until then."

WHY THE HELL DID SHE NOT SAY THAT TO ME YESTERDAY!?

So I then say "Well what time do you open?" thinking I could, perhaps, pick the car up on my way into work (albeit getting into work slightly late, but it'd be worth it not to have to come home on the bus with the drunks and the old women who stink of fish).

"Oh, well [girl] is in by 8:30am but I expect the car needs to be cleaned first...I'm sure you can come to some arrangement tomorrow."

To say I am pissed off is to redefine that phrase.