I turn to the younger one with the long, shaggy black hair, tattoos and baggy pants that are far too large for his slim frame. “And you are?”
“Blade.” He looks me up and down with a leery grin. “Blade Courtney.”
“Cool name. How long have you been a mechanic, Blade?” The kid looks no older than sixteen. What are the labor laws in this town?
“I graduated trade school last year.” Blade steps forward, winking at me. “Where’dyougo to school?”
Unlike Carlos, whose hand I held firmly to make a point, I quickly release Blade’s hand. “I attended?—”
“Are you really a mechanic?”
I open my mouth to answer.
Again, Blade talks over me. “‘Cause I know for a fact, if you went tomyschool, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Not one bit.”
Following Blade’s example, Carlos gives me an appraising once-over too.
I feel Jimmy bristling beside me. “Now, look-ee here—” the old man wags a gnarled finger, “don’t be?—”
“It’s okay, Jimmy.” I touch a hand to the old man’s shoulder.
He deflates like a puffer fish returning to normal size, but his eyes still cut into the other two.
I smile dryly. These mechanics have no idea who I am and I don’t blame them. It’s not like I’ve introduced myself properly.
“I’ll answer your question, Blade.” I pull my hands behind my back, widen my legs a shoulder-length apart and push out my chest. “My uncle was a military maintainer and at fifteen years old, I was logging informal shop time, cleaning parts and assisting inspections.”
I take up room. I belong here.
Chin up.
Voice loud enough to be heard, but soft enough that I’m not shouting.
“At eighteen, I enrolled in the most prestigious aviation maintenance school in the country, graduated near the top of my class and passed the general, airframe and power plant exams,” I pause for dramatic effect before I say, “my first time.”
None of the mechanics look impressed by that, which is mildly disappointing because it was a huge deal. It’s very rare to passallthe exams on the first try.
But I power on, walking slowly in front of them. “I had offers from some of the biggest airlines, but I went to an understaffed operation instead, working night shift line maintenance, gaining early turbine exposure, trouble-shooting avionics?—”
“How much longer is this gonna take? I need a bathroom break,” Blade says, yawning into his hand.
I smile tightly. “I took too long to answer your question, Blade. I apologize.”
He rolls his eyes.
I move forward, gaze trained on him.
The kid scrunches his nose, leaning back uneasily.
I stop just before entering his personal space, tone quiet but firm as steel. “Long story short, I’m the manager of this auto shop. And I’m here to show you that if you work harder than everyone, study longer than everyone and take up the crappiestjobs no one wants, you’ll be onthisside of the floor, answering questions from rookie mechanics about why you deserve to be here.”
Blade’s cocky smile fades and he gives me a look filled with disdain.
I maintain eye contact.
Establish dominance. Show everyone that you won’t be taken lightly.
I’ve done this song and dance more times than I can count. It never gets easier, but at least this time, I’m up against two mechanics instead of a classroom full of men who either want to bully me or flirt with me to the point of harassment.
