The Mechanic

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📅 Published on August 29, 2015

"The Mechanic"

Written by

Estimated reading time — 4 minutes

My boss is an absolute dipshit. Sorry, I hate to be so blunt but that’s just the way it is. My name is Sarah Collins and I work as a personal assistant for a private law firm. It’s probably safer for you if I don’t mention where. Anyway, back to my arsehole sleazebag of a boss. He’s a short, fat little man who walks around the office like a total bigshot, Rolex watch, Armani suit… you get the picture. He’s also got one of those ridiculous moustaches that look like a gerbil sleeps on you upper lip. He’s a completely sexist pig and treats me like garbage. To give you an example, the other day he walked past my desk and “pretended” to trip, spilling a giant glass of water over my white blouse, making my shirt see through. It was so embarrassing. I would have left ages ago if I didn’t need the money so much. Simon Jones is his name. He orders me around like a dog, with no respect or praise at all. But back to the point. The other day after his usual rounds of berating everyone in the office he headed to his private lift to whisk him away to the safety of his ridiculously large office. Yet, when he pressed the button, a screeching noise of metal on metal filled the room and smoke billowed through the closed doors of the elevators. It was broken, which, as you can imagine made for a pleasant morning for the rest of us. NOT. He stormed into my cubicle, his ‘stache twitching furiously. “I don’t care how you get it done, or how much it costs, but if that elevator isn’t fixed overnight it’s coming out of your pay!” he leaned closer. “Slut” he whispered. I lowered my gaze, my face burning ferociously. “Yes sir” I mumbled. Unfortunately this would mean that I would have to spend the rest of the day searching for a repair man.

*

After 2 hours of searching I had made no progress and realized I was screwed. When everyone had left the office and it turned to 9 PM my finger scrolled down the webpage further and further, but I thought it was pointless. What sort of mechanic is open past nine? My heart fluttered when I saw the next ad. It didn’t stand out and the wording was dull and boring but there it was: Mr. Mechanic – WE FIX EVERYTHING. It also said that they were available whenever needed. I called their number which was really unusual, 005 555 555. A voice picked up on the other end, male but no emotion whatsoever. “Hello Ms. Collins” it said. “Hey” I replied before getting straight to the point. He was patient and when I was finished he said: “I will depart shortly”. I thanked him and hung up. I didn’t realize then that I hadn’t mentioned my name yet. He arrived faster than I had expected. His grey overalls were matched by his grey cap that both sported the slogan on the website. He was tall and unusually slim and his eyes were dull and glassy like marbles. I led him to the elevator and told him that I’d be catching some sleep in my office. An hour later I woke at my desk, a pool of dribble formed at my mouth. The office was eerily quiet. I looked up and the mechanic was staring at me from the door to my cubicle. “All finished.” He said. “Great, you’re a lifesaver. What’s the charge?” I replied. He told me there was no fee as it was an extremely simple job. I thought he was joking but then he nodded at me took off his hat and left. I locked up and went home and dreamed of men with grey hair and glass eyes.

*

Simon Jones strolled around his office impatiently whilst drinking a glass of bourbon he had poured himself two hours earlier. He was waiting for the CEO of a competing company to arrive so they could attend lunch together and discuss the civility of their situation. In frustration he threw his glass against the wall and it shattered everywhere. The phone at his desk buzzed and he jogged over to pick it up. “Mr. Jones, the competition has arrived sir”. “Good” was all he said before slamming down the phone and heading to his elevator. He pressed the button and the doors slid open silently and smoothly. He smiled to himself and adjusted his tie around his bulbous neck. Whoever that dumb assistant of his had hired, they had done a good job. Jones took one step forward, but his foot found no purchase and he fell, screaming 34 stories down an elevator shaft to his death.

*

After my boss died, his brother took charge. He was a great guy who gave me a promotion and a pay raise. A touch of class. There was an investigation but when tested following the incident, the elevator functioned perfectly. I was asked to show the police the number and the webpage of the mechanic I had called but the page had disappeared and when I called the number in front of the police a mechanical voice informed us that the number did not exist. However, one warm evening I was walking back to my apartment and a grey van swerved around the corner. The glassy-eyed man was behind the wheel. It may have been my imagination but he turned quickly to me, doffed his hat and gave me the briefest of smiles before disappearing around the next corner. I never saw him again, but the words on his van, overalls, hat and webpage are forever stuck in my head. WE. FIX. EVERYTHING.

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