“Yes, there’s a problem,” the caller says aggressively. He might as well have added ‘you idiot’ to the end of the phrase. “My wife took our car to your auto shop just a few days ago and this morning, we broke down in the middle of traffic.”
My back snaps pin-rod straight and my voice shifts from professional to concerned in an instant. “Are you still in traffic now? Have you called a tow service?”
“We’re calling a tow now and we’re bringing this car right back to your shop.”
“We’re not currently open, but first thing eight o’clock?—”
“Eight o’clock? My wife took our car to you. She gave you the money. She upheld her end of the deal. Now, our car broke down becauseyoudidn’t fix it properly and you’re talking about showing up at eight? Are you serious right now? What kind of circus are you running?”
“Sir, if you’d calm down?—”
“Itoldher to take the car to The Pink Garage. At least they don’t do shoddy work.”
The accusation stings, but I force myself to remain professional. “We’d be happy to look at the car again. Since this is an emergency, I’ll open the garage early to accommodate your tow truck. What time do you estimate it’ll arrive?”
“Don’t know. Maybe about twenty minutes.”
My heart beating double-time, I hop down from the counter full of adrenaline, but my body hasn’t caught up yet. My legs are asleep and they buckle when I land on the ground.
Nat helps me as I wobble on my feet. His fingers around my hand are firm and comforting.
“What’s wrong?” Nat mouths.
Swallowing my rising panic, I shake my head.
“I swear,” the customer continues belligerently, “I should have listened when Earl told me your shop was a waste of time. He said you’re a bunch of scammers and con artists. Well, if youthink you can con me out of my hard-earned money, you can think again! You’re fixing what you’re supposed to or I’m suing.”
I stop in my tracks and stare straight ahead. ‘Earl’ is the name of the first customer I worked with who got angry when he saw my estimate. I’ve been trying really hard to forget about the ‘Earl incident’, but it seems like the bad reputation I earned with that customer is spreading like a bad seed to others.
The dial tone rings in my ear.
They hung up.
Nat presses his hand to my cheek. “Riles, you’re so pale. What was that call about?”
“Customer… broke down…” I speak in fragments, my eyes scanning the room in search of all the things I need. Keys. Steel-toed work boots. License. Shop keys.
Where did I put the shop keys? I can’t find them anywhere.
Twenty minutes.
Should I call Jimmy and Carlos? They worked on the car while I was test driving the church van with Blade, but what if they don’t answer? It’s almost seven o’clock, but that means nothing. I still haven’t managed to get the mechanics to come to work on time.
I’m a horrible manager.
It’s all my fault.
‘Because of your stupidity, every woman who comes after you will have to work hard to prove she’s not an idiot!’
I try to drown out the voice of my ex-supervisor.
Solve the problem in front of me first.
Shop keys.
Where are my shop keys?
“Hey, hey,” Nat whispers as he steps in front of me and grips my shoulders.
