Some weird-o pulls up to the intercom. He's ordering and ordering, but I can't hear him because his obnoxious diesel truck engine is louder than a Spinal Tab concert.
"Can you please pull up, sir? I can't hear you," I say.
"Why can't you hear me? You're the only one that can't hear me over my engine," he says at the window, and then proceeds to rev the engine. I start to think that the problem with his guy isn't under his hood, but in his trousers.