Never trust a guy who's name is Eric

I don't know what it is, but lately I've had dealings with the most scary, disturbed, and just plain weird guys who have all gone by the name of Eric (or Erik, if you prefer).

The latest experience my own dear hubby is responsible for. He calls some car mechanic (whose name of course is Eric) to come to my house and look at one of our cars which was having some 'issues'. The automatic door locks wouldn't work, the horn wouldn't work, the sun roof wouldn't work, the indoor light and trunk lights wouldn't work--and one of the back up lights on the rear of the car wouldn't work.

Of course he schedules the guy to come while he's at work and I'm the one at home to deal with the monster guy.

So 'Eric' shows up at my house and he looks about as inviting as that photo I've posted. . . except without the goggles. He was missing his teeth, two fingers on his left hand, AND his underwear--as he had a huge hole in the back pocket of his jeans where one of his lower cheeks was shining through.

After I point out the car in the driveway and drop the key into his hand, he says to me:

Eric: So your horn, lights, automatic door locks, and sun roof don't work?

Me: That's right.

Eric: What do you think the problem is?

Me: I'm guessing electrical?

Eric: Sounds good. We'll start with that.

Sheesh! Isn't HE the one supposed to tell ME the problem? I go back into the house and leave him to his devices. After a while he taps on my front door and motions for me to follow him out to the driveway.

Eric: Take a look at this! (He's bending over the hood of the car so far that not only is his 'right cheek' about to pop out of his pants--he is displaying a crack the size of the south rim of the Grand Canyon.

He kept screaming for me to "Look. . LOOK!" But all I could do was desperately try to avert my eyes so as not to have that image forever etched in my memory bank. I had no idea what he was showing me or trying to tell me, but after a few appropriate 'uh huhs' and 'hmmmmmms' I discovered he really hadn't done anything to the car yet--so I went back inside the house.

After about 40 minutes or so, I'm thinking he might have at least diagnosed the problem, so I hopefully go back outside to see if he's made any progress. Eric was sitting on the bed of his own truck talking on his cell phone, but flashes a gummy smile my way and shouts:

Eric: You got someone horny in this house?

Me: Excuse me?

Eric: There's been someone very horny with this car.

Me: Well, we bought it used and I'm not sure what the original owners were up to when they were using it but. . .

Eric: (cutting me off) I'm telling ya--someone was very heavy handed with the horn and the horn doesn't work now.

Me: I told you the horn doesn't work. It didn't work right after we bought it.

Eric: Well, that's a darn shame.

Me: Can't it be fixed?

Eric: I'm not sure.

Me: Are you telling me there are only a certain number of times you can use the horn in a car?

Eric: Doesn't sound right, does it?

Me: No, it doesn't.

Eric: Well, I'll get to work on it then.

I fled to the house before he could ask me another embarrassing question.

So ANOTHER 40 minutes goes by--and now I'm thinking, how much is this going to cost me? Is he purposely trying to stall and take his sweet time so he can charge me a goodly sum?

Once again I mentally prepare myself to go outside and encounter this man. And once again, he's sitting on the bed of his truck--this time, gumming down some kind of sandwich and swinging his legs like he doesn't have a care in the world.

That's when I decided to just wrap this up and throw some money his way so he would just get out of my driveway and go.

Eric: (hopping down from the truck and spitting whatever he was eating all over the driveway) Hey! If you just let me finish my lunch here I'll get right to work on your sun roof.

Me: That's quite all right. The sun roof is not a priority. Can you at least tell me the problem? (I'm thinking even if I have to pay this man to leave and he tells me the problem, I can take it to a REAL mechanic at some point and then get it fixed)

Eric: Well, there's good news and bad news.

Me: There's GOOD news? (I was somewhat disbelieving)

Eric: Yep! Your horn now works. The indoor lights and back up lights work. And your automatic door locks work now.

Me: (pretty happy and surprised) Really?

Eric: Really. (and he demonstrates everything for me)

Me: What was the problem?

Eric: Well, it turned out to be electrical, like you thought.

Me: O.K. What's the bad news?

Eric: Your air conditioner doesn't work now. I hope it wasn't important.

Me: (dumbfounded--but wanting to get this man out of my driveway) Can you show me what you did to get this stuff working again and the air conditioner to not work?

So he shows me a relay switch under the hood of the car that he switched out. He didn't have another one--so he just switched the air conditioner one with the 'bad one' and apparently that took care of the problem. (after an hour and a half of 'labor')

Eric: I can go get you another switch and bring it back here and put it in for you--and that should only take me about 2 hours or so.

Me: No thanks. Really. You've done enough.

I pay his extortion fee, take the key to my car and go back inside. Then, after another hour of him doing Heaven knows WHAT in my driveway he finally pulls out and leaves.

Meanwhile I call dear hubby and 'thank him' for my play date with Eric. AND I remind him that if he wants to live with all his fingers, teeth and both rear cheeks to never set me up with a guy named Eric again.

Dear hubby managed to get the needed switch himself and replace it and now the air conditioning works again (for now). His comment to me was, 'That Eric's a genius.'

I'm still debating whether I need to take a 'switch' to dear hubby. . .