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Thursday, March 20, 2003 Page: 1D
Dear Mr./Ms. Pierogi: Why is it that when a man goes to get his car fixed
or buy a new one he is treated like a king, but when a woman does she is
treated like a dog that just went on the carpet? Is it too much to ask to be
recognized in the auto world as equals?
Mr. Pierogi says: To be fair, I think people get treated as well as they
demand, ma’am. The next time you go to buy a car or to get one repaired and
are treated condescendingly just say, “Sir, if you don’t start treating me
with appropriate respect, I will take my business elsewhere and tell all of my
friends to do the same. I am not going to pay you for the privilege of being
insulted by you.”
That should get his attention.
Ms. Pierogi sees Mr. Pierogi’s point but finds his advice a tad theoretical
and blustery. We women can be wimps sometimes, it’s true, and sometimes we let
big, important men tramp all over us. What we have to realize, though, is that
we can talk all tough (men can, too) and still not get great results because
the minute we walk away, they can just laugh at us. Then the joke’s on us. My
policy is Teddy Roosevelt’s, rest his soul: Speak softly and carry a big
stick. When buying a car, carry a stack of paperwork, showing you know your
crap as well as what your top dollar should be. When getting a nuisance car
repaired, carry a big, fat guide to your state’s lemon law. Speak
intelligently and firmly and carry a big book, I guess.
And why threaten to take your business elsewhere? If you’re truly treated
like a bad doggie, go to the Neanderthal’s boss and bark your head off. If
nothing happens there, I’m all for going on the floor.
Dear Mr./Ms. Pierogi: Have you ever heard of “Gray Hair Syndrome?” That’s
when you go into a hospital or a grocery store and have white or gray hair,
and everyone treats you as if you’re senile and speaks to you in a sing-song
voice, as if you are a child. I dye out my gray, but I put on a gray wig and
went out, and I saw how differently people treated me.
Mr. Pierogi says: Heard of it; I’m the reason they invented it. Of course,
people have been treating me like a moron since I was an 11-year-old, and
often they’ve been right. This is the second question today about how people
should be treated, and the answer is similar to the first one: When someone
treats you as if you are an idiot because you show signs of age, simply say,
“See here, young lady. Each of these gray hairs is a testimonial to the years
I spent learning far more than you will ever know. You are neither old enough,
rich enough or sophisticated enough to treat me like a child, and you never
will be. Jerk.”
Ms. Pierogi says: Heard of it, too, but not so sure about it. I know plenty
of sophisticated, suave and – might I add – super sassy gray-hairs to whom I
bow in humble, may-I-be-just-like-you-someday adoration. Honestly, I don’t
think it’s the hair; I think it’s the persona. Which is sort of what my
husband said. If they chirp all syrupy at you, chirp right the heck back.
Sing-songier. If they reach out to pet you like a puppy, take a bite. Watch
how fast they back off.
Write to the Pierogies at pierogi@leader.net or 15 N. Main St.,
Wilkes-Barre, PA 18711.