So Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?

I have stumbled very uncomfortably upon one of the most ingenious scams of all time. Before now I had sympathized with victims of this plot, but never had been on quite this impressive a business end of a car dealership buggery. After doing fairly well today at school and work, I made my humble way over to the car dealership service center to see about fixing my drivers side seat belt buckle. I confidently stepped through the door, assured that I would be well taken care of by the kind female voice that had directed me through the door. Smiling faces lined my way through the winding road up to the service center. Breathing a sigh of relief, I outlined my plight to the kind goateed fellow who approached me, and with an assurance I was in good hands. Grinning, he went inside to price the service that would return my car to safe working order.

Now, a brief tangent: I find life is all about relying on others. Lawyers rely on the cops to bring them the bad guys, investigators to gather up the evidence, judges to argue before. Actors need costumers, writers, directors, (and possibly worst of all) other actors. All of this winds down to the simple fact that where ever one goes, it is impossible to escape without at least briefly being in a venerable position. This leaves room for somebody to screw you over. Usually the person doing the screwing will be wearing a tie.

Back to my original story, the smiling and goateed gentleman who so confidently assured me of his ability to help returned, a carefully calculated look of alarm and empathy on his face. It was at this point a cold stab of fear jolted through me, and I noticed; the man was wearing a red checkered tie. One of those ties that every denizen of a car dealership wears... those terrifyingly ostentatious ties that aught to say "Run! Get out now!" but never seem to become noticeable until the guillotine drops, and your bodiless head lies blinking up towards the sky, a splattering of blood on the pavement.

This all led me to the enlightenment I now suffer. These places design parts to break. Specifically engineered to wear out, keeping the part just complex and unique enough to be exclusively available only from the dealer. It is bloody genius. They have a stranglehold on the masses, people who have no other choice but to play their sick little game. Honestly, I am impressed. And likely will be walking bowlegged until this time next year after discussing the cost for this relatively simple repair.
Never before have I encountered such impressively subtle brutality as that tie wearing gentleman showing me a single slip of paper.