Degrees of Lying

 
   Twenty two dollars.
   Lured by the price, I scheduled an appointment to get the oil changed in my car. I'd never before visited this business. It's a nationally known auto repair chain.
   When the job was done, a man in charge presented me with a list (seen above). It cited problems with the car. He suggested that the car wouldn't pass the annual vehicle inspection. By coincidence, my inspection deadline was three weeks away.
    I was leery about the mans' diagnosis, so I declined his offer to repair the problems. And besides, his prices were steep.
   Several days later, my personal mechanic looked over the car. Surprise! Surprise! With one exception, he found nothing to jeopardize the renewal of my sticker.
   The man at the national chain was guilty of duplicity. Chances were, he'd seem the number 12--representing December--on my sticker. He'd assumed that I was concerned about the deadline. By creating a sense of urgency, he wanted hose me for additional money.
   Why are some mechanics--or anyone for that matter--duplicitous while others are honest?
   All of us lie now and then. Sometimes lies happen on the spur of the moment; they're called innocent even if they're still wrong.
   Duplicity is rarely innocent. Seems to me, when duplicity targets other people, it represents a virulent form of lying.