This is an add-on to my well-received thread CEO Status Means Nothing: How Hype Men Are Killing The Concept Of Young Entrepreneurs from back in May. This is also longer than it should have been. So sit tight or move along. I got my oil changed this morning. It was at a chain called "Take 5" that is popular here in the southeast US and Texas. Their big draw to these is that you can stay in your car. I'd change my own oil like I did on my Jeep before my current car, but these Japanese hatchbacks are such that you need a special tool and the world's smallest hands to get to where the oil nut is. I digress. There was a rotund douche-canoe with cleaner-than-they-should-be hands and a sense of entitlement standing at the computer kiosk while the mechanic was guiding me in. My window was already down as I had explained what type of oil change I would like to the mechanic about 20 seconds prior, and the mechanic had yelled "high mileage synthetic" to the douche-canoe, who had been texting at the time. Here were his first words to me: "Good morning, welcome to Take 5! I'm Chaz and I am the CEO of this fine establishment." I shit you not. This was already some serious "things that did not happen" shit, and he had only gotten two sentences out. I was immediately triggered, and that is the first time I have ever typed that word out online. I could have gone on a CEO Status Means Nothing tirade. But I kept it calm and cool and professional. As I try to do here most of the time. So I responded with a "Nice to meet you, sir." or something to that regard. I'm a very nice guy in real life, coming from years of my parents teaching me how to interact with people, public speaking courses, customer service experience, and having to balance out my hideous face. He said: "What can we do for ya today?" This was just yelled to him by the mechanic 30 seconds earlier. I said: "High mileage synthetic oil change, please. No air filter, I have a K&N. No cabin filter, just changed that last month. No wipers, those are fine." Dildo Baggins looked at my car. I keep it very clean. We all know this by now I would hope. He said: "We only recommend high mileage synthetic to cars over 75,000 miles there, buddy." I responded with: "I just rolled over 110,000 miles a few days ago, believe it or not!" He looked at me like I was retarded. Am I allowed to say retarded any more? He looked at me like I was fucking retarded. His first words about being the CEO starting rising up in my throat, but I pushed that shit way down. He scanned my VIN, and then asked me for my mileage. I said 110,103. He asked me to pop the hood and turn the car on. I did so. He proceeded to check the mileage himself like I was lying to him. The mechanic was calling out each step he was taking as he did it. I liked this. Very methodical. I think Chaz the CEO had a job to do as well, but apparently it seemed like it was just sales. I was screwing around on my phone at this point, and a few minutes pass. He then says "So what do you do?" So badly I wanted to say: I am a mystery shopper specializing in auto shops. Nope. "I'm a marketing analyst and small business owner." He nods like he knew this already. "Ah," he says. "A kindred spirit." No you didn't. The CEO tell-off started rising up again like vomit. Swallowed it back down. This kid was my age. Probably never went to college. Probably is the shift manager. I watched as he told an elderly lady to basically get the fuck back in her car when she tried to get out to ask Chizz the CEO a question. The mechanic finished up and has me start the car up. Puts the dipstick in, pulls it back out. Yells that the oil is fine. Closes the hood. Chaz gets off of his magical Take 5 throne and does a walk around. The motherfucker kicks each of my wheels. Not the tires. The wheels that I had just meticulously cleaned with some Meguiar's last weekend. He gets to the front passenger wheel and misses the kick and kicks the wheel well instead. I hear a small clunk. I think nothing of it. The whole outside of the car is basically plastic. This small detail will be important later. Satisfied with the job, he slaps the hood as if to say "I did well". He slapped my fucking hood. T he hood that I have compounded and polished swirls off of and coated with three coats of this incredible shit (it was a gift, I usually use Griots as my top-of-the-line). The mechanic tells me to have a good day and walks to the next car. I thank him, just staring at where Chaz the CEO put his entitled hand on my car in a forceful fashion. I feel assaulted. He clicks away at the computer kiosk. He says: "Alright there, buddy. Before we ring you up I'm gonna pop into the passenger seat and check on your cabin air filter to see if it needs changing." And over the waterfall we go. I say: "That's okay. I just changed it last month." In my head I say as I told you a few minutes ago. I'm not a fan of the quick-oil-change upsell tactics. Just get my oil changed, charge me too much, and let me leave. He says: "Alrighy, if you're sure you're all good, the total comes to-" It was like $71 or something for ten minutes of labor and $25 worth of oil and a $10 oil filter. Whatever, I hand him my card. Then I ask him "What did you say your title was?" His little oval badge on his shirt said "Chaz - Manager". He says the same exact thing he told me prior: "I am the CEO of this fine establishment." The word vomit then came out. "Oh, so you run the whole company? You're the CEO of all of Take 5?" "Well, I wouldn't go that far." "Ahh, okay. You're the franchise owner. Got it." "I'm no franchise owner. I run day to day operations here at the bays." "Oh, okay, so you're the general manager of this particular franchise of Take 5? Like you run the reports and financials and such?" "No, like day to day here in the bays." He was starting to falter a bit. I nod in fake realization. "Okay. I understand. Shift manager, got it." "Yeah, but I like to refer to myself as the CEO around here, as this is my kingdom." Those were not his verbatim words. But they were something along those lines. All I remember is that he agreed he was the shift manager, said he calls himself the CEO, and something about his kingdom. So I asked him how his Q2 P&L's were. Things went quiet from there, and he handed my my card back, and he waved for me to exit the bay and I was on my way. Off I headed to my grandmother's house (over the river and through the woods). This took me on a very flat, very boring section of road headed towards the state prison in Starke. I was listening to some Dreamcar and I heard something, so I muted it. It sounded like a flapping. My car makes strange noises sometimes, but this was not a typical kind of strange. I slow down from 70 to 65 and listen closer. Then there is a pop, a thump, my car veers onto the shoulder, and it starts sounding like sandpaper on my tire. Fuck. By this point it is over 90 degrees and high humidity, and I'm almost in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to pull off but slippery, tall grass. So I drop down to 45 and put the hazards on. The Google Maps shows a turn off for a massive landfill on the right. So I drive like this for two miles, thinking of every possible worst case scenario. Then I pull off on the side and pull off into a sandy, dirty area, with the stench of hot shit everywhere. It was right here, actually. I get out and walk around to the passenger side and am greeted with this: The front half of the wheel well cover was completely shredded by the tire. In my head, I replayed Chaz the CEO missing the wheel kick right there, and what was likely a rubber bolt popping off. So, in the blazing sun, beside a massive fucking landfill, dressed relatively nicely, I get to spend 15 minutes prying off the rest of the wheel well cover, tossing it into the freshly-vacuumed back of the hatchback, and turning around and driving some back roads home, as this left some of the engine exposed to the elements. Gave them a nice call soon after I returned home and showered. Chaz didn't pick up the phone sadly. Someone else did. Apparently the CEO's role extends far past answering the phone. The actual franchise owner is going to be calling me back tomorrow. Moral of the story: Don't kick or slap people's cars. Moral of the story part two: Don't call yourself the "CEO" if you are the shift manager of an oil change shop. Or if you are the owner of a company with less than five employees or under $250,000 per year in revenue. Fun times.