Chapter 56
Fifty-Six
The day after earning my automotive technology certificate, I trot outside to fetch the Oakland Tribune.
The paperboy delivers it early every morning but he’s too lazy to hoof it up our stairs, and his aim sucks.
I had a paper route once, and it was work, but I didn’t half-ass it.
With this kid, the paper rarely makes it halfway up and frequently lands in the shrubs.
I’m damn happy to be done with school and believe it prepared me for a job.
A job still to be determined, which is why I’m eager to scour the want ads.
It wasn’t that hard earning my cert. It came easy to me, just like most things of this nature.
If I stare at something long enough, I can usually figure out what the components do and how to fix it if it’s broken.
I once dissected my parents’ toaster, which resulted in a beating I still haven’t forgotten, but it never deterred me from wanting to understand how stuff works.
I just stopped taking apart machines in perfect working order—or doing anything to spark my father’s ire.
The stone steps chill my bare feet, and I hustle down them searching for the paper. It’s lodged in the manzanita bush. Motherfucker. I wade through the damp earth to fish it out, dreaming of shoving that little punk’s face in said bush. God, I sound like a crotchety old man.
Back inside, I refill my mug with coffee, sit at the dining room table, and open the Trib to the classifieds. The coffee warms me back up as I review my job options, circling those that interest me.
I glance at the clock and decide to call the most promising—the Chevron station down near Lakeshore. It’s not too far. Not a terrible section of Oakland. Probably a good place to start for someone at my budding skill level.
Within minutes, I’m scheduled for an interview with Leo, the owner, this afternoon. Awesome.
Heading to the shower, I sing the chorus of Santana’s “Winning” because I’m winning.
Leo’s a slender man of medium height who dispenses a firm handshake when he introduces himself.
He ushers me back to his small, windowless office and I sit in the only available chair across from him.
He glances at some papers on his desk and by the way his hair sheens and stays perfectly in place, I wager he uses some of the old school pomade men his age favor.
“On the phone, you said you recently got your cert from Laney College?” he asks.
“Yes, sir. I did the one-year program straight after graduating from high school.”
“Skyline grad?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods, looking me over. “Me too, once upon a time. So, what made you decide to skip the traditional college path and go the automotive route?”
“I love cars, for starters. But I also enjoy problem-solving. I’ve always had a knack for it. As for the four-year degree, it held no appeal. I can learn about anything I want without necessitating that.”
He hums. “True.” He almost sounds impressed, unless I’m imagining it. “What’s your automotive history? Have you worked on any aside from school?”
I start to lean forward and rest my forearms on my knees but catch myself, straightening up my posture. I don’t want to come off as some slacker. “Yes, sir. I’ve helped my older brother over the years, and my friends. We’re all into cars.”
“American muscle?” he says with an eyebrow quirk.
I chuckle. “You’ve got us pegged.”
“If I was your age, that’s what I’d be driving. I’m a family man now.” He taps the desk twice with his pointer finger. “As such, I own something more practical.”
“I understand.” Even though I don’t really. Why can’t he have both?
“I own these two gas stations”—he motions his hand right and left—“this one and the Self-Serve next door. The Chevron does a full line of automotive repairs. It’s not glamorous.
One minute, you’re mounting tires, then you’re fixing a transmission.
Occasionally, a fun project rolls in here.
” His eyes stare directly into mine. “But I have a solid reputation to uphold, with repeat customers, and I need reliable, quality, meticulous mechanics.”
I nod earnestly.
“You young guys are sometimes problematic. Prone to irresponsibility. Not mindful of attention to detail. Showing up late or not at all. Some have taken advantage of what I offer here. Can I count on you, Mick?”
“Absolutely. I care about doing the job right, sir. Not just to satisfy you, but myself. I won’t overstep, I’m punctual, and I’ll put in an honest day’s work. I’m very eager to learn all I can from you and others here.”
His eyes turn from assessing to satisfied. “Good. Let me show you around.”