An employee of the Autozone Corporation that is expected to know everything about your shit green Plymouth Voyager or your decaying Nissan Maxima that has thirty different engine codes, a missing fender, and various dings and dents covering its decrepit body. An autozoner must be a first-class bullshitter to conjure such ridiculous answers to questions like âwhat the fuck do you mean I canât get a valve cover gasket for my Daewoo Lanos?!â or the ever so popular caliper bracket for any given jalopy. Autozonerâs whole heartily love to hear the words âIâm going to Advanceâ or any of the other incompetent auto partâs stores to get these ill-bred people out of our store. Autozonerâs dread the question âwell, can you just come out and look at it?â just take the fucking thing to an actual mechanic you inconsiderate fuck-up.
I hate being an Autozoner.
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