I work in an auto shop. One of our more experienced veteran mechanics is looking at an engine that’s been giving its customer problems and has been unable to be fixed using more passive troubleshooting. Our guy has finally identified the problem.

Mechanic: “So here’s the problem. Your fuel injectors aren’t delivering a consistent mist, so the combustion isn’t clean. That’s why you’re getting those misfires and the drop in mileage. Basically, the chemistry’s off; the ratio of fuel to oxygen isn’t balanced, and it’s throwing everything out of sync.”

Customer: *Not really paying attention.* “Uh-huh. And how much is this gonna cost me?”

Mechanic: “Between the parts and labor, about $800.”

Customer: “$800?! For what? Spraying some gas? Come on. That’s ridiculous!”

Mechanic: “It’s not just spraying gas. It’s precision calibration. A few milliliters too much or too little and your engine won’t run right.”

Customer: “Forget it, I’m not paying that. I want to talk to your manager.”

After the manager has been brought up to speed:

Manager: “Sir, the price reflects both the technical nature of the work and the skill of the mechanic.”

Customer: “Why? It’s not like it’s rocket science!”

Manager: “Sir, it’s combustion chemistry. It’s exactly like rocket science.”

The customer goes quiet, quietly agrees, and the mechanic goes back to work.

A customer is ordering some very specific types of tire.

Me: “Okay, so we can order those tires in for you, for [total].”

Customer: “That’s more than I can get them for at [Big National Chain].”

Me: “Yeah, but we’re quite a ways from any big cities, so we have to factor in the cost of delivery.”

Customer: “Well, can’t you send them deflated so they weigh less and cost less?”

A customer has brought in their car because “it keeps stopping.” We established that this is the engine seizing up, and after some checking:

Me: “Ma’am, you’re about five oil changes overdue.”

Customer: “But I use synthetic oil.”

Me: “Yes, but even with synthetic, you still need to change it regularly. For Subarus, it’s every 5,000 miles.”

Customer: “Even if I use synthetic?”

I take a deep breath and do my best to stay professional.

Me: “Yes, even with synthetic. It lasts longer than conventional oil, but it doesn’t last forever. The oil light is telling you the oil needs to be changed.”

Customer: “…Oh. I thought the light just meant add more.”

Me: “Change the oil, or the oil will change your engine… permanently.”

We did the oil change for her, but she still didn’t seem very convinced it was needed.

I’m at a well-known chain car repair shop, waiting for work to be done on my car. To make a very long story short, they needed to fix something they made a mistake on. It was a whole ordeal.

I’m in the waiting area with two other people. Eventually, a mechanic comes out to talk to the guy sitting next to me.

Mechanic: “So, the car failed inspection. The main thing was the windshield wipers. We can replace them with new ones; it’ll be $50.”

I look up from my phone in disbelief. I’m not sure which ludicrous thing to grapple with first. The guy next to me wisely declines having them install the wipers and leaves. I remain waiting. I’m still trying to figure out how you fail a safety inspection for wipers (a two minute fix) and then want to charge someone $50 to put them on.

Soon after, my car is ready. No charge. On the way out, I look at their wiper blades. They range from $10 to $18 per blade. There. In the part shop. Ten feet from the waiting area.

I still don’t know what’s crazier, failing a safety inspection for wipers, or blatantly lying on how much it would cost.

I was never going back there again already, but this sealed that decision.

Years ago, I first started in the machine shop. I was sixteen and looked twelve. Unfortunately for me, there were some guys that had been working there for forty-plus years who thought picking on the new guy was a normal, acceptable thing to do.

Luckily for me, (and partly down to my condition) nothing fazed me. I didn’t care, or understand.

For me, it was, “Okay, cool, my tools are all taped together, that means I can spend an hour sorting them out, instead of actual work. What a funny thing to have happened.” Or someone hid my boots,” I’m sure they will turn up. I will just get the spare pair.”

Not being able to be bothered really made it boring for the guys who were looking for a reaction.

Most of the pranks stopped, but occasionally I would still find something broken or my stuff messed with.

One day, I came back from break to find, in my locker, a stinking bag of clothes soaked in old oil. (We would get changed before /after work)

Looks like they had been dunked in the return oil tank.

They were ruined, apart from the staining and the smell; the tank was full of bits of sharp metal from the machines. Even I would have been upset.

If, of course, they were actually my clothes.

Because of the lack of lockers, I was sharing with one of the guys who initially bullied me.

I showed him the bag, apologised, and explained that I thought it was probably meant for me.

I didn’t see what happened, but heard that there had been a fight in the car park. My locker buddy took one of the guys outside and knocked him around the car park for a bit.

Amazingly, no one saw anything, despite the crowd. But the pranks did stop that day.