I was like 13, and my dad and his friend were working on his work truck. They needed a part, so he had me go get it for them. His English wasn't the best and he told me he needed a "timer start". So I hopped on my bike and rode about 15 minutes to the AutoZone to get a timer start for a 1985 Chevy C10. I got there and asked for help, but the guy at the parts counter had no idea what I was asking for and my description of the part was of no help. He was getting visibly annoyed. He finally said he can't help me and told me to try a different auto store. As I was leaving, I was checking out the Euro taillights and another employee approached me. He was like I think this is what you're looking for, it's a thermostat. The part looked like what my dad needed, so I thanked the guy and went to pay. The guy who checked me out was the first guy, and he said to me "You needed a thermostat this whole time, huh? Maybe next time you come in, learn to speak English." It caught me off guard and didn't really hit me till later. I just remember thinking, "It's 2001, f**k that guy."So my worst experience was also my best experience at an auto store since that other employee went out of his way to help.If you're out there reading this, Hispanic AutoZone employee from Burien, WA from 2001, my 13-year-old self would like to thank you for helping me get my dad's work truck back on the road.And if the other guy is reading this, my 13-year-old self wanted to tell you this so much, "Go f**k yourself."
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