December 10, 2017 –Insight into how the other half live.

        A few years back, while I was working in the food industry as a bartender up in Lake Lure, North Carolina, my car broke down on my day off and it was towed to the garage for repair.  Of course, that week the garage was overflowing with break downs and I had to wait an extra day before they could even tell me what was wrong and what parts would be ordered. [No loaners were available while my car was in for repairs.] We have two other vehicles, except they are standard shift, and I haven’t driven a standard shift in years.

Needless to say, I asked my retired husband to drive me to and from work.  It was no small thing, a 45-minute commute each way, but he was a good sport. My hours were 10:30 a.m. to 4 p.m.  Day one, we left early because he drives slower than I do.  I am there an extra ½ hour early, way before I can clock in, and the boss lady asks,

“Why are you here so early,” casually as she passes through the bar area and sees me sitting in the corner.

        “I haven’t got my car back.”  I answered putting my nose back into my Sudoku puzzle to kill time.

        The boss lady slips off with no further comment. That afternoon, I notice she lingers at shift change to see who is picking me up.  I climb into the old green F150 pickup truck and my husband drives me home.

        Day two, I telephone the garage expecting to pick up my car, but I was informed,

“The parts haven’t come in yet,” the mechanic said.  “We are pretty backed up. . .”

The second day my husband drives up the mountain and drops me off then turns around and drives home another 45 minutes.  Later he drives up and picks me up as I am coming off shift.  Just about all the servers in the building have noticed my automobile is not in the employee section of the parking lot, yet they see me at work and they want to know what is going on.  I tell them,

“My car is in the shop, waiting for parts.”

The third morning, I am dropped off at the back door of the restaurant/bar.  I slide down from the high cab of the old green pickup truck and arrive just 5 minutes before shift change.  Which is ‘late’ for me as I am always 15 minutes early for all my shift changes, yet not technically late as I have punched in at the time clock on the way from the gate house. The boss lady is lingering around at the entrance probably waiting to admonish me if I show up a minute late. [Let’s just say it was not a great boss/employee relationship . . . I expected to be “jumped on” [a Southern phrase] at any moment by the boss lady. She was the first boss I simply could not please no matter what I did.]

I came in the door and immediately starting counting my cash bag to put in the cash register and I’m verifying the amounts and the boss lady sidles up to me and says,

“That your husband, who dropped you off?”

“Yeah, I haven’t got my car back yet,”

“Repo, huh?”  The boss lady says in a hushed, almost motherly voice.

I couldn’t suppress a chuckle and I smiled wide from ear to ear immediately shaking my head.

“No, the garage hasn’t got the parts yet.” I leaned back and looked at her amazed.  My mind raced, ‘She thinks my car was repossessed?’  I am shocked and surprised by her assumption.

The boss lady didn’t say another word and walked off to her work area and left me standing there shaking my head.

After putting the cash in the drawer and starting to set up the bar for the day I am smiling, and chuckling, and shaking my head still in disbelief.  A fellow employee, a favorite server, asks why I am so amused.  I repeat what I had said and what the boss lady had just said.

“From her own personal experience, no doubt,” she quipped in a knowing way.

For the rest of the day, when things got dull, my favorite server and I would whisper to each other – “Repo man” - then laugh.