YC Honda, probationary lube position, Reese Witherspoon receptionist, Art drives a steamroller

 

I was, ugh, again working for Yuba City Honda in a diminished capacity, as a lube tech. Reiner was still boss, and I was there on probie status doing oil changes and lightweight work. I was actually even lower than the lube techs, and was relegated to jobs like fetching things from parts or cleaning up the parking lots.

I was returning from the parts department with a headlight bulb for a used car, when I noticed that we were starting to get really busy. It was going to be an "all hands on deck" situation, and I might have to get down and dirty and help out with the oil changes. Under supervision, of course. I saw that Manny Salazar was there and said hi to him as I passed him in the hallway. He barely acknowledged me. 

I noticed that my former stall in the shop where I had previously worked doing smogs was now a makeshift library. The roll-up doors were adorned with bookshelves and appeared to not have been rolled up in a while. But as the oil changes stacked up, someone yelled, "We're FUCKED!" signifying the start of the morning rush. 

Coffee and conversations all were dropped as motorhomes and cars of all sorts filled the drive. The roll-up doors even got rolled up, the books magically staying affixed to them while being raised. I walked around the parking lot still searching for the used car upon which to install the headlight bulb. I tried the car's remote waiting for a honking or beeping sound by which to locate the vehicle. 

I encountered Art Mele, the usually absentee owner, in the parking lot. Wind was blowing leaves around, and Art was driving a steamroller among the leaves and parked cars, looking like some kind of Hawaiian shirt wearing pirate on a bender. He was singing Steamroller Blues, and we sang a verse together. He laughed but then chastised me for goofing off. 

"Back to work," he said, and that was that.

I never found my car with the burned out light, so I next went into a tiny office, where the order desk for the service appointments was located. Reese Witherspoon was taking the calls and entering the repair order appointments into the computer. The tiny office was about the size of my guest bedroom and was furnished similarly, but had a tiny counter with a phone and a hidden computer somewhere inside it. I watched as she took a couple of calls and generated the paperwork, after which she got called away. 

"OK, you can take it from here," she said, handing me the phone. 

I took down the customer's information but had to do it by hand, since I couldn't figure out where the computer was or how to input anything into it. It was really not looking good for my first day back. 

I was shivering from having lost a blanket during the night, so I woke up soon thereafter. But somehow I retained all this glorious detail about a subject that has dogging me in my dreams for the last 3 years, namely, the nagging idea that I have unfinished business with Yuba City Honda, or that I should somehow be going back to work. Ugh.