I came into the shop this
morning with a great attitude. HARD CASE II: THE LURE OF HELL reached #2 on the
Amazon Men’s Adventure list again, with HARD CASE hanging around at #6. My
partner, publisher, agent, and friend Author RJ Parker has done a remarkable
job in a relatively short period of time and he has a promotion going on. Although battling sock puppet book
killers and the Amazon badlands of ferocious competition, we’re clawing our way
up in recognition.
My new novel starring aging
P.I. Rick Cantelli is approaching 60,000 words and the third book in the HARD
CASE series is nearing 15,000 words, so writing is still going well. My
characters from the YA trilogy, DEMON are rattling around in my head for another
humorous adventure too. So much for my fictional world, because I got a funny
introduction to a new customer first thing this morning. She had an appointment
for a brake check. When I opened the shop at just after 7:30, a 2002 Buick
Regal crept in making the worst metal to metal screeching racket I’ve heard in
quite a while. The owner, who will be known as Ms. Grindy Regal, was a harried looking
woman with auburn hair, around five and a half feet tall. We had an unusual
California summer rain this morning, so she had on a full length tan fashionable
raincoat and medium heels. Ms. Regal exited the car, closed the door, and
gestured at her chariot, with one of those pasted on smiles people think make
them look friendly. In reality, they look kind of creepy to me, but hey,
sometimes it’s just nerves.
“I have an eight o’clock
appointment. Well, what do you think?”
Yes, the devil tried to pounce into
control of my sarcastic nature, and make me fire off a few acid tongued one-liners
I’m sure would not have been beneficial for anyone. I instead tried to draw the
opening conversation to polite business interaction.
“Let me fill out an invoice for
you, and I’ll get your contact information. I should be able to phone you with
a complete estimate within the hour, Ms. Regal.”
As I started toward the office,
Grindy brought me up short.
“I don’t have time for a
complete anything. I’d like you to put pads on the front, and I’ll have a seat
in your office. I brought a book to read.”
Oh boy. First off, on the phone
I was very thorough in explaining how I estimate brake work, particularly the
fact she would have to leave the vehicle. These situations rarely end well,
when a customer comes in, having entered their own parallel dimension of
reality instead of mine. “I can’t do that, Ms. Regal. By the sound your Buick
is making, you have extensive damage to the brake system. When it comes to
brakes, I only do complete repairs, because of the danger in doing patch work
to the customer, and others on the road.”
Polite, formal, and disparaged
in an instant.
“Just the pads for today
please.” Return of the pasted on smile.
Uh… no. “As I explained, I don’t
do that. If you’d like, I can inspect the brakes while you wait in the office,
but I have no intention of throwing pads on your vehicle, and taking
responsibility for you endangering yourself and others.”
Ms. Regal’s smile fled without
even a vapor trail. Her eyes narrowed and the lips tightened. To her credit she
thought it through before speaking. “To be clear I will not authorize you to do
anything so you may as well not bother wasting your time with an invoice.”
“It’s not a waste of time, Ma’am.
It’s state law. When I do anything to your car in my shop I have to by law have
an invoice on it for your protection and mine. Come in the office.”
Grindy followed me in
reluctantly. I filled out a complete invoice with mileage, license, and VIN
number. I then had her sign it although I was not charging her for the brake
estimate. Yes, it’s not a profitable business practice, but to avoid
misunderstandings, I don’t charge for brake inspections unless it involves the
ABS system. I clenched my teeth pulling the Buick ahead into a stall for the
check. The brake pedal was spongy, and I had a good idea why. The master
cylinder was low on fluid and had an inch of goop at the bottom from overheated
fluid. After making sure the drum brakes in the rear were good and the wheel
cylinders weren’t leaking, I proceeded to the noisy front. The rotors were
ground down to the point they were wafer thin in spots. The hydraulic calipers
were toast. The heat from metal to metal braking had turned the outer seals and
boots into crispy critters. I have no clue how people can drive a vehicle in
that condition. I immediately took pictures with my HD camera and adjourned
into the back where I did a complete estimate, transferred the pictures, and
printed out a two page collage for Grindy.
Back in the office in record
time, 35 minutes – not bad for an old man, when the inspection required
mechanics, photography, and computer skill. Ms. Regal was unhappy to say the
least. Unhappy with my diligence, my explanation of repairs, the price of repairs
(although very reasonable), and especially my pictures. She grabbed the
pictures.
“I’ll take these.”
“By all means. I have file
copies.” I watched the realization hit that I controlled the vertical. I
controlled the horizontal… whoops… sorry… my TV time exposure to the ‘Outer
Limits’ when I was a kid crept through. “I attach a sheet to the invoice for my
records, so in case anything happens I’m protected.”
“What the hell do you need to
be protected from?” Ms Regal was getting a little testy.
“Calm down, Ma’am. Your brakes
are in a very dangerous condition. I urge you if you don’t want them repaired
here, to have your vehicle either towed home or to another shop. I’m afraid you’re
going to kill yourself or some other innocent people on the road.”
It could have been the mention
of killing herself… or the innocent people. I won’t make a value call here.
Grindy shifted into neutral. She sighed. “Can I leave it here for now until I
make a decision?”
“You sure can, and you’re
making a wise decision. I don’t charge storage fees for the first week if you
stay in contact with me. You have a detailed estimate there. Take it and shop
it around. For your own safety I advise you not to have a Backyard Bob do it.”
She brightened up at that a
bit, so maybe it was a money issue, although I doubt she could beat my price
for Delco replacement parts, labor and tax anywhere. Grindy called her sister
for a ride, and I have adjourned here to the back of my bat cave to type up this
latest excursion into customer car repair land. :)
