“On me?”
“Why are you so hard on yourself?” Rebel asks, tilting her head.
“AMTs don’t get to make excuses.” I let out a shuddering breath as a memory from three months ago resurfaces.
‘Because of you, hundreds would have lost their lives. And what would you have said then? ‘Sorry?’ You think ‘sorry’ brings people back to life, Carter? Don’t cry. This isn’t the place for tears. If you were going to be this shoddy of a technician, you shouldn’t have joined the trade in the first place. Because of your stupidity, every woman who comes after you will have to work hard to prove she’s not an idiot!’
Emotions sting the back of my throat. “There’s no room for mistakes.”
“But you’re not fixing planes anymore. You’re fixing cars.”
I wince.
“I don’t mean that as an insult.” Rebel’s blue eyes glitter with kindness. “Cars and avionics are not the same. In a car, you don’t have to torque every bolt with a torque wrench. You don’t need dual spark plugs. A lot of the things an airplane needs is a waste on a car. Unless a customer asks for it or unless it really is unsafe to ignore, you don’t have to address every problem.”
Is she referring to the estimate I gave the customer yesterday? “I thought I was being thorough,” I explain. “I want the customer to leave our shop knowing they won’t break down ever again.”
“People need their cars to move and stop safely. That’s it. There are more complicated cases, but those two things are the heart of what we do.”
“But what if the car needs more help than the customer wants to give it?” I point out, unwilling to let it go.
“We can inform the client, but if fixing one thing is all they can afford, we let them sign for it and we fix what they ask us to. Our job is to make our customer happy and safe. If you really,reallydon’t think they’ll be safe, you can pass on the job. Butunlike a plane, a car can run with its bumper hanging off and its windshield cracked. It’s not optimal, but it’s possible.”
I gulp, thinking of that last day on the job. “I’m not sure I have it in me to bend protocol like that. Maybe… maybe I’m not cut out for?—”
“Morning, morning!” Jimmy’s cheerful voice rings.
Rebel glances his way and then nods at me. “What were you going to say?”
I bite down on my bottom lip and shake my head. Nat isn’t giving up on hockey despite the obstacles. I can’t give up either.
“My advice,” Rebel says patiently, “rely on your team. They’ve got the experience and you have the structure and systems. If you can find a way to merge all your skills together, you’ll give The Pink Garage a serious run for its money.”
Jimmy draws nearer, a big grin on his face. “Is that the church van I see outside?”
“Mm-hm. I offered to fix the church van for free.” Rebel drops the key in my hand. “This van has been giving the parsonage trouble for a long time. If you fix it before Sunday, there will be a ton of members in the congregation who’ll bring their cars to you.” She gives me an ‘are you up for the challenge?’ look.
Mission received.I square my shoulders and say in a firm voice, “I’ll get it right this time, Boss.”
Rebel smiles.
To my surprise, Carlos and Blade wander in while the boss is walking out.
“Good morning toyou,” Blade says as Rebel sashays by, his eyes lingering on her from behind.
A confused expression crosses my face as the mechanics saunter into the garage. “You guys came earlier today.”
“Yeah, well,” Blade sniffs and runs his thumb over his nose, feigning indifference, “I heard rumors about how things wentdown yesterday. I wanted to see if that customer tore this place up.” He shrugs. “But it doesn’t look so bad.”
Jimmy wags a finger. “If you were here waiting with her yesterday, you would have known if there was damage or not.”
“You left too.” Blade accuses.
“And I regret that,” Jimmy snaps back.
“Me too,” Carlos says, wringing his hands together. “I heard he was throwing things and cursing you out.”
I’m not sure who embellished the story, but I guess this is how small-town gossip works.
