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In case you're worried, I did get my 45 bucks back. In a bit of luck in an otherwise unlucky 48 hours, I happened to stop by the tire shack for the two minutes the owner happened to be in. This during a huge snowstorm which is making traffic horrible. Guy tells me he was about to leave, but recognizes me from the night before, looks horribly pained when I tell him I've brought the tire back for a refund because he gave me the wrong tire.
"Ah, Gary! You messed me up, man! You needed 16s! You told me 15s!"
Fucking liar. "Ha, ha, yeah, well, you assured me, Doug.... Anyway, you'll understand when I ask for my money back."
Pulls out wallet. "Damn, I knew it was too good to be true. I'm so broke, man. I was just on the horn telling the old lady how I'd stayed open late to help you guys out and everything."
Yeah, yeah, asshole, give me my money. He slowly, and I mean slowly, counts out my refund in ones, fives, a ten, another ten, and so on, clings to the last five and does this fake crying bit like I'm supposed to tip him for giving me the wrong fucking tire. Asshole.
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Ever notice how this place just basically, well, sucks.
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