The seatbelt warning of my car broke last summer, a week before a long road trip from Sweden to France. The seatbelt warning would beep loudly and incessantly, regardless of if you wore the belt or not, driving me and the rest of the family mad. I called every mechanic within a reasonable “drive there, wait a few hours and drive back”-distance to get it fixed before the trip, but they were all fully booked or on holiday, the downside of everyone having four weeks off in summer in Sweden.

As a last act before resorting to buying industrial-grade earmuffs for the whole family, I thought of calling the mechanic from the rural village I hail from, quite some distance away. I figured I could drive there after work (wearing said earmuffs), sleep at my dad’s house, get it fixed over the day, and then drive home. I called to check available times, described the problem, and got this response:

Mechanic: “Sorry, mate, but we’re fully booked, and we’re going on holiday on Friday. I can probably fix your problem in an hour or three, and I have the parts, but we just can’t fit you into the schedule. It’s impossible.”

Me: “I understand. I really do. It’s just… I really hoped you could’ve helped me; you were my last hope.”

Mechanic: “Why? I’m no Kenobi.”

Me: “Well, that’s true, but I live in [town 150 kilometres away], and everyone around here is also fully booked.”

Mechanic: “Excuse the language, but why the f*** are you calling me in [Village] if you live in [Town]? Why not literally anyone in between?”

Me: “Well, as I told you, I’m from [Village] and my dad, [Dad], still lives there. He lives in [incredibly specific place], and—”

Mechanic: “—Wait, you’re actually his son? I thought you were f****** with me. And you wanted to drive all the way here to get your car fixed?”

Me: “Well, yeah. But if you don’t have time, then—”

Mechanic: “—Shut up. Let me think.”

Me: *Shuts up.*

Mechanic: “When can you be here?”

Me: “Um, Friday morning, so right before you go on holiday. My plan was to drive after work Thursday afternoon, crash at dad’s and—”

Mechanic: “—Drive directly to the shop on Thursday. I’ll drive you to your dad’s place afterwards. Your car will be fixed by closing on Friday. If I haven’t fixed it by then, I’ll slap it back together, and you don’t have to pay me a cent.”

Me: “Really? Oh, gods above, you’ve saved me!”

Mechanic: “We have a deal on one condition!”

Me: “Okay?”

Mechanic: “You won’t go back to f****** [Town] immediately afterwards, you stay and eat dinner with dad, you hear? And you bring at least one of his grandkids, right?”

Me: “That was already the plan, but I’ll stay another night. Thank you again!”

Mechanic: “Don’t mention it. Oh, and if you have another f****** problem and are trying to trick me, I’ll dump your car in the local river. Deal?”

Me: “I solemnly swear that you only have to fix the seatbelt warning, and nothing else. We have a deal.”

The mechanic was true to his word. The car was fixed by Friday lunch. We left a tin of home-baked (Star Wars-themed) cookies for him and his crew when we got the car back as an added thank-you, and I was told by my dad that the mechanics had annihilated them within two hours.

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We have a young new guy serving his mechanical apprenticeship at our dealership. He was writing his report on a vehicle he’d just fitted a new clutch on. I could see he was suddenly very agitated and annoyed.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Apprentice: “That car I just did the clutch on. It’s just been picked up by the customer.”

Me: “Yeah, and?”

Apprentice: *Pointing to a tick box question on the form.* “Well, I can’t remember if it was an auto or a manual.”

A customer rushes over to me, waving her car keys around. I see a manual pair of car keys and an electronic fob.

Customer: “Help, I need a new battery for my car’s key fob!”

Me: “Sure thing! We sell them over here. It happens to me all the time, but at least you can still use the good old-fashioned key when it dies, right?”

Customer: “What are you talking about?”

Me: “Oh, I just mean it’s all well and good having these electric fobs to unlock the cars, but it’s good that you can still use the old-fashioned key when technology fails.”

Customer: “I just walked forty-five minutes across town to be here because I couldn’t get in my car, so maybe I’m just a bit hot and tired, but I really don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Me: “You walked from across town to get a new battery for her key fob. Why… couldn’t you just… put the key… in the keyhole?”

Their face as the realization came over was priceless.

I needed a new turn signal bulb, so I went to the car parts store (which is part of a national brand and has “Auto” in its name). It’s a Sunday, and there’s only one employee in the store.

While I’m checking out, a person wanders in with a piece of metal. I’m not a car person, so I have no idea what it is. He looks around for another employee but seeing no one comes up to the counter.

Customer: “Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find this?”

Staff: “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize that. What is it?”

Customer: “It’s a stopper.”

Staff: *Looks confused.*

Customer: “For a bathroom sink.”

Staff: “Sir, this is an auto parts store.”

Customer: “So… You don’t have it?”

Staff: “No, sir. I’d try a regular hardware store.”

Customer: “Oh, okay.” *Wanders back out.*

Staff: “Did that…”

Me: “Yup.”

Staff: “I really wanted to say something else. It’s in the name; we’re not Plumbing Zone.”

A woman approaches me in the mechanical and auto supplies section.

Customer: “Hello, I need to get one of these for my husband.”

She hands me a printout of an item from our website.

Me: “Oh, yes the two-ton jack. We can get that for you.”

Customer: “Oh… I didn’t realize. Is there someone who can help me bring this to my car? I don’t think I can carry two tons by myself.”