I called at 1:25 in the afternoon. Plenty of time after the conventional lunch hour to arrange an appointment. It rang four times, causing me to assume I would leave a voicemail. A good sign I thought, it meant they were busy. And then the dial tone was replaced my what sounded like muffled wind.
“Hello,” a gruff voice said.
“Uh, hello,” I said, caught off guard by the informality. “Is this Fix-It?”
“Yeah, Fix-It Small Engine, how can I help you?”
The background noise was strange, like he was in the midst of ordering at a drive thru intercom or holding a small child that was breathing into the receiver. Either way, I could tell he was distracted, but I gave him the details all the same.
“I have a Lawn-Boy Lawnmower that won’t start,” I said. “Well, it will turn over, but then die right away, It worked fine last year, but now it won’t.”
“Yeah, we can do that.”
“And I saw on your website that you do pick-ups.”
“Yep.”
“Great. I’m not at home, but I’ll be home by 5 tonight if you’re able to pick it up then. Or another day that works better.”
“5 today works. Just text me the address and we’ll pick it up.”
“This number?”
I was apprehensive. The number was the company’s main line that I had found on their website. And considering his laissez-fair greeting I could only imagine he forgot that the company line was being forwarded to his personal phone.
“Yeah,” he replied.
They must have some type of messaging system set up, I thought. It’s probably easier for them to track information that way, saves them from writing stuff down if their fingers are covered in grease.
“Ok then,” I said. “See you around 5. Thanks.”
“Yep, bye.”
The hang up was prompt. Then I opened up messaging and began typing a text message.
Considering the excess background noise during the call, I reiterated all the key points in my text as one might do following a business meeting. I mentioned our phone call and included the lawnmower make, when I’d be home, and my address, believing I don’t a great job communicating my needs
Ten minutes later I received two text messages saying that my text had been successfully delivered to a landline. That must be how they operate, I thought. Though I worried that I wrote too much, that perhaps the address may have been split between the two messages, and thus, be indecipherable. But if that was they case they would surely call back for clarity.
I arrived home from work at 4:45, sweaty from the bike ride from the office, though I didn’t dare take a shower, for he could arrive at any moment and I didn’t want to delay the proceedings. I did change though. I had been wearing a pink, long-sleeve golf shirt, but given the stereotypical rough-around-the-edges, conservative persona I’d projected onto the mechanic, I thought it a good idea not to give him any fodder to mess with me, so I took the shirt off. Underneath was a grey t-shirt I’d got from an alumni basketball game at my old high school. Once again stereotypes led me to assume he watched only hockey, football, or possibly baseball, and that any other sport was viewed as weak. So I put on a plain black hoody. I was neutral. Just a guy.
I’d heard too many horror stories about mechanics delaying work, or charging extra fees, or screwing with customers in whichever way they want simply because they could. They had a very special set of skills after all. Skills that aren’t needed en masse from society, but when they are needed, well you better believe the small engine mechanic will cash in. I at least had the comfort of knowing that I wouldn’t have to pay for the endeavour. My landlord would be footing the bill, I just had to arrange for lawnmower to be fixed.
At 4:55 I took the lawnmower out of the garage. I envisioned him arriving at 5 o’clock on the dot and taking the lawnmower away without a hitch. Then I could get on with my evening. But just in case he was delayed in his arrival I texted my friend Dan, whom I was going to have dinner with, of the situation. Dan’s: reply was
Sounds good! Though lawn repair men are notoriously tardy.
I hoped this Fix-It fellow was going to break the mould, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath, so I grabbed a book, knocked the pine needles off of one of the plastic lawn chairs on the patio, and read. I had thought about scrolling endlessly through my phone, thinking that was more relatable than reading a book, but figured I had to draw the line somewhere and stuck with literature. It was nice. Seldom did I carve out some time for myself to read during the day, and with such warm weather, I couldn’t have asked for a better treat.
Though I couldn’t help but feel anxious. I looked up anytime a loud engine drove by, but none stopped outside of the house. At 5:30 I stood up to look down the street from the driveway, as if to expedite the process. It did not help. And when I returned to my chair I noticed smeared globs of sap on the seat, globs I had inadvertently smeared earlier when I leaned back in the chair. I made certain not to sit too far back in the chair to avoid sitting in more.
At 6 I went inside to use the washroom, when I went back outside I saw that I had missed a call from an unknown number. I called the number back.
“Fix-It repair,” they answered.
“Hi, uh, I just got a call from this number. I’m guessing you’re here to pick up my lawnmower?”
“You didn’t text us your address.”
Of course you didn’t, I thought.
“Oh, well I texted the number.”
“Did you get our text?”
“No. I didn’t get anything.”
“I’ll text you right now. Text back your address.”
I heard the notification come through and pulled the phone away from my face to look at the message:
Adress
“I got it,” I said.
“Good. Now once we hang up text me your address and I’ll be over to pick it up.”
“Sounds good. Though I guess I should ask, how much is this going to cost?”
“Normally it’s one-twenty, but because you’re a valued customer, I’m going to do it all for you for a hundred. Plus, when I drop it off, I’m going to give you some free advice that’s worth a lot more than a hundred bucks, ok? I’ll tell you how to take care of your mower so you don’t have to call guys like us again. And that’s free, and it’s worth a lot.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Alright,” he said, “I’ll be there within the hour.”
“Ok,” I said instinctively, and we both hung up, though his final comment gave me pause.
Their website said they closed at 6:30, which was now only twenty minutes away, and considering the shop was a ten minute drive from my house I didn’t think an hour was a suitable timeframe to give. But then again, he’d said it quickly, almost naturally. It was a canned response, it had to have been. He’d arrive shortly, I thought, he won’t work beyond the regular office jobs. And it’s just a pick up. It won’t take long. So I texted him the address and he promptly replied:
Got it
By that time dark clouds had rolled in and I moved inside. But I still had sap on my shorts so I didn’t want to sit on any furniture, and it didn’t make sense to change considering I’d want clean clothes after my shower, and I couldn’t shower yet because of the timing, so I sat on the inside steps and read. Though before I started I sent my friend a text:
There was a miscommunication with the lawnmower man, he’s only coming now…hopefully will arrive by 6:30 so I don’t reckon I’ll be to your place until 7ish. Is that alright? I don’t want to delay your dinner.
Dan replied:
No it’s fine.
I put my phone away and flipped ahead in my book, seeing that an ideal stopping place was near, so I raced to finish before the mechanic arrived. I was able to complete the section, and felt good about the one and a half hour reading session. Then I took out my phone to scroll. And then I began to feel hungry.
I stood at the kitchen table and ate some cookies, and then some leftovers from the fridge, which were supposed to be for my lunch the day following, because dinner would be covered by my friend, and continued scrolling.
6:55:
He still hasn’t arrived…
Dan replied:
People who fix lawn mowers are a different breed.
We may eat without you. But still feel free to come.
But also if he takes up your night don’t feel bad bailing.
My response:
Go right ahead! And I think I may just have to bail because at this rate I won’t be getting out of here anytime soon.
At 7:10 I gave up. It was one hour from the time we spoke on the phone where he verbally confirmed the appointment, fifty-five minutes from the text response that confirmed he knew my address, and forty minutes after the company closing time. The dream was dead, so I made a grilled cheese sandwich. Though I couldn’t help but think, just as the sandwich was near perfect, that he would arrive. That’s how things like that work out. He’d arrive, and in my haste, I’d abandon my sandwich to greet him, and as we chat outside about my lack of small engine knowledge, the smoke alarm would go off. “My grilled cheese!” I’d say, and run inside to handle the situation. And he’d casually follow behind, inspecting the suite and nodding his head. And with the alarm off, the windows open, and the sandwich in the garbage, he’d say, “I’ll give you some advice for free, you don’t want to start cooking something on the stove when you’re expecting someone.”
It actually would have been perfect if that was the case. The whole ordeal would have been worth it. But it wouldn’t actually happen, so I just thought, I should have started doing something a long time ago. That would have triggered his arrival. At least that’s how it’s supposed to work.
The thought of him getting into some horrific accident hadn’t even crossed my mind. It wasn’t even the slightest possibility. In my mind it was far more likely he actively dragged me along just to let go without notice. And really, why wouldn’t he. These small engine mechanics can do whatever the hell they want. They have the skills to call the shots. I even thought it commendable how little he cared about customer service in this day and age of online reviewing everything. He’s living by his own rules. I would have been satisfied with that. And the next time mechanics come up at some dinner party that doesn’t cater to mechanics I’ll have a story to tell.
And then, just as I sat down with my sandwich at 7:23, I received a text:
Sorry sir detained repairing senior centre tractor be there within the hr.
I deliberated over my response for five minutes. I wished he’d just not sent anything at all, or cancelled it altogether, but now he was prolonging this thing even further? I should have called it off, told him it was too late in the game, or something of that nature. But he’d already ruined this evening, I couldn’t bare to have him ruin another. So I responded:
No worries. Though if it’d work better to come another day that’s ok.
The ball was in his court. He could end it. I gave him an out. But he didn’t respond. So I could only assume he’d arrive within the hour. And there I stood, still in my sapped up shorts, still unbathed, tired from standing for the past hour and half, angry with myself for letting the charade go on for this long, looking out the living room window, thinking every vehicle that passed could be his. First a legitimate work truck and got excited, and then a more dated one, and then a uHaul, and then an old Volvo with a screeching brakes. For all I knew he was going to walk over and push the mower away with no intention of ever coming back.
At 9:00 I called it.
I put the lawnmower back into the garage, took a shower, watched a show, and went to bed, turning my phone to silent beforehand, not that I expected anything,
When I woke I saw there were two missed calls. One at 10:22, another at 10:24. There was also a text at 10:27:
Sorry had to rescue my friends woman and drive her to emergency . Wow please call me in the am leave your machime outside I will come get it put it to the front line and bring it back sorry for inconvenience.
The fact that he had tried calling at such a late hour meant he must feel some remorse, which I hoped would make him a man of his word, soI did as instructed and left the lawnmower in the backyard. Then I called his number when the shop opened at 8:30. It went to voicemail, but I couldn’t leave a message because the inbox was full. I sent a text to his personal number at 8:34:
That’s most understandable, I hope she’s ok!
I tried calling just now but got no answer. I left the lawnmower in the backyard behind the garage. Give me a call if you need anything further.
9:21:
Ok
Pick up
I didn’t go home after work that day because I was in a bicycle maintenance course from 6:30 to 9:30, and considering I didn’t hear anything beforehand I figured all was well. And since my hands were covered in grease I didn’t check my phone at all during the course. But when it ended I saw there had been a message at 7:15 PM:
On my way sir
I decided not to respond until I got home to see if it the lawnmower had been picked up or not. It was still where I left it that morning. I didn’t text him back. He didn’t text me back either.
scott ironmonger 