My Two-Cents: Car Washes and Clubs
Once a week or so, I hear from my sister on the phone. From these phone calls, I’m reminded that stupidity has no bounds. For example – this week she got scammed at the car wash. How does one get scammed at the car wash? Is it easier than one might think? These are the questions I found myself asking. Before I continue, I’ll save the suspense and answer the latetr question: it is, in fact, not easier than one might think. It is quite hard (and equally impressive) to get scammed at the car wash. But Brooke (my sister) was determined to find a way. The story goes like this – she went to get her monthly wash and then leave. However, plans changed when an overzealous worker who was determined to hit his monthly quota spotted her. He campaigned that for only $3 more additional dollars to what she was paying, she could have a monthly pass. And if this wasn’t convincing enough, buying a membership gets you access to the “Members’ Room”. Which, according to Brooke, was some brightly lit room hidden behind the carwash. This bit is what specifically is what drew her, and her wallet filled with FAFSA loans, all in. But much to her dismay, the “Members Room” was just a tourist trap room filled with cleaning spray. And the room was out of towels, so most of the sprays were useless. Poor Brooke. Poor, stupid, Brooke.
Brooke may have fallen victim to a carwash scam, but is she really a victim of a much bigger, deeper scam -- the deep, intrinsic desire we all have to be a part of something bigger than ourselves? In this case, it was the Members’ Room. But the concept could be expanded and the analogy extrapolated onto a hodgepodge of things. A team. A fandom. A group. A club. Yada Yada Yada. We all want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. But a Team, Group, or Membership can come with costs. For Brooke, what she described as a bright red arch saying “Members’ Only” and leading to a brightly lit room resembling a stairway to heaven, was less of a fairytale or Led Zeppelin song-adjacent, and more of a tourist trap. But it was too late, by this point Brooke had already signed the one-month contract. And as she signed the contract, the scammer noticed her one nail (she was in the process of taking off her acrylics and had one left), and proceeded to smirk, comment “I like your (singular) nail,” and prepare to clock out of his shift knowing he got one more bozo to buy a membership.
It’s fun to be a part of something. But sometimes, the things we think we want to buy into don’t end up being the experience we hoped for. Sometimes, we end up in accidental fandoms and clubs that supersede our planned ones. That’s what happened to my family a couple of years ago when we inherited a 2004 Ford Camry from my late Grandpa. My sister got the privilege of driving it first, and she decided to name it POS. For Piece of Shit. But that wasn’t good enough. She took a joy ride to christen it and by chance hit a couple of curbs on the way. By the time she arrived back home, she had a new name for the old timepiece: PODS. Piece of Dented Shit. It stuck. Everyone in my family now refers to the car as Pods without question. It’s become the running bit of the family group chat. Everyone wants to take a crack at Pods. Pods is a living, breathing entity. The day Pods stop running will be a sad day. None of us will be ready to see the brunt of the joke go. We all love Pods, despite it’s flaws. Much like I love my sister, despite her flaws. Haphazardly and unexpectedly, we all become part of this joke – the lore of Pods. Memberships, clubs, and fandoms are cool and dandy. But inside jokes, longstanding bits, and family + friends lore are the true VIP access passes you want. If only poor Brooke had known that before she signed up for a Rocket Star Car Wash Membership.
