When I step into National Tire and Battery, I feel like a 19th century dissident Russian peasant being led to the firing squad, only not as lucky. There is only one company that rivals NTB's abysmal shitiness, and the Siberian gulag is not as corrupt.
Last year, I was forced to break my sacred oath to boycott the cursed NTB when my car battery died and it was the only store open. This year, when the needless to say defective battery NTB sold me predictably died an agonizing death, I once again summoned myself to hell.
After ignoring me for thirty seconds, the manager of soullessness finally made eye contact with me (without saying a word), which was my cue to plead for mercy. I explained the situation. He didn't care.
I waited thirty minutes while the manager's most trusted henchman tried to figure out how to best ruin my day.
When Joseph Goebbels finally returned, he handed me my papers, said "all set," and turned around to leave. I took that to mean it was now time for me to be shot in the face, but sought clarification nevertheless.
Infuriated that I had dared to ask how exactly he made my car worse, he brusquely explained that he replaced the battery, which as I suspected was defective, with a newer defective battery. Then he retreated to his layer to churn out more sorrow for the next poor bastard unfortunate enough to be sentenced to that heinous establishment.
I escaped that place with the kind of unrestrained jubilation that Jesse experienced when he escaped the compound in Breaking Bad.