Ok, so I am not usually one to dish my husband, only when it comes to certain small irritating matters such as replacing the tyres on my car.
A couple of days ago, Gerhard tells me that I need to go and replace
the tyres on my car. Today he phones and asks if I still remember that I need to replace the tyres on my car.
Now inbetween all of this, I remember a conversation where he told me that one, I need to get the same tyres as the ones I currently have, two that they cost in the region of R1000 per tyre and three that I need to go to either Tiger Wheel and Tyre or another place (I cannot remember the name).
So, today after already taken time off work to take my sick child to the doctor, I also decide, let me do this, let me make my husband happy. So I go to Tiger Wheel and Tyre, the one I can remember. The nice man quotes me R4 100 all inclusive as they also need to balance and align. I text my husband, he immediately replies to tell me I must not pay more than R930 per tyre all inclusive, I reply saying I will be paying just over R4000. And this is where the fun starts.
Gerhard phones me saying he will sort this out as these people are once again trying to screw me over because I am female. I say, well its pretty much the same is it not. He says that if I walk into a store and a dress costs R400, will I give them R500? I say of course not, but in this instance, they clearly told me that the dress cost R500, so how can I expect to pay R400. And so we carry on.
This conversation always ends with me saying ok, good bye and leaving it at that. I know he is fuming at the other end because I refuse to take up his cause for the couple of rands. It also involves me at some point telling him that he can put tyres on cars, take bakkies for service, put diesel in our cars from here on, because amazingly enough with me being so stupid when it comes to these things, I still always end up doing the actual transactions.
So this conversation will be forgotten until a couple of months down the line, when the windscreen wiper blades need replacing, the car needs an oil filter changed or whatever.
Men, argghhhh!
A couple of days ago, Gerhard tells me that I need to go and replace
the tyres on my car. Today he phones and asks if I still remember that I need to replace the tyres on my car.
Now inbetween all of this, I remember a conversation where he told me that one, I need to get the same tyres as the ones I currently have, two that they cost in the region of R1000 per tyre and three that I need to go to either Tiger Wheel and Tyre or another place (I cannot remember the name).
So, today after already taken time off work to take my sick child to the doctor, I also decide, let me do this, let me make my husband happy. So I go to Tiger Wheel and Tyre, the one I can remember. The nice man quotes me R4 100 all inclusive as they also need to balance and align. I text my husband, he immediately replies to tell me I must not pay more than R930 per tyre all inclusive, I reply saying I will be paying just over R4000. And this is where the fun starts.
Gerhard phones me saying he will sort this out as these people are once again trying to screw me over because I am female. I say, well its pretty much the same is it not. He says that if I walk into a store and a dress costs R400, will I give them R500? I say of course not, but in this instance, they clearly told me that the dress cost R500, so how can I expect to pay R400. And so we carry on.
This conversation always ends with me saying ok, good bye and leaving it at that. I know he is fuming at the other end because I refuse to take up his cause for the couple of rands. It also involves me at some point telling him that he can put tyres on cars, take bakkies for service, put diesel in our cars from here on, because amazingly enough with me being so stupid when it comes to these things, I still always end up doing the actual transactions.
So this conversation will be forgotten until a couple of months down the line, when the windscreen wiper blades need replacing, the car needs an oil filter changed or whatever.
Men, argghhhh!
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