Even the dullest of people—like myself—are bound to learn a thing or two if they spend the whole summer working for Albert in the backroom of Benny’s Vacuum and Fax Machine Repairs, which is a small and typically empty business, smack in the middle of Widgeons Crossing.
The learning never really stops when one works with Albert. As the hours melt to weeks and the weeks fade to months, his summer apprentices become familiar with not only the mechanics of dust sucking and dirt collection, but also the lesser-known science of discovering what makes him tick.
We learn, for example, while some people refer to Albert by the store’s namesake of Benny, he refuses to respond to it; and even though the words “fax machine” are in the store’s name, he doesn’t accept them for repair anymore, and will hold a fierce grudge in the rarest of times a customer brings one in. Another lesson of the trade is that at some point in history—likely at least five or six decades ago—the phrase “it’s a little Mickey Mouse” was used to describe something that was not done particularly well, and moreover, the amateur boxing coach who introduced Albert to the term clearly made a big impression on him when doing so.
But there are also things we don’t learn,—even if it’s our second summer working for him—like why he named his business Benny’s when his name is Albert, or why he insists his employees answer the phone by reciting the full store name. One thing does become clear to everyone though: Albert is a wizard when it comes to repairing things. He can work his charm on almost anything electrical or mechanical that people bring him. In fact, it’s pretty much just as the sign outside the store says:“Benny can fix ANYTHING that sucks!” - providing of course, one overlooks the small detail there is no one named Benny involved.
REPAIRS Benny can fix ANYTHING that sucks!
“T.W. on one,” Albert said as he handed me the phone, “and what’s worse, you can’t really hear him properly. The connection’s a little Mickey Mouse.”
Employees must learn Albert’s backroom jargon, which includes recognizing “T.W.” does not refer to an individual, but rather, represents a category of the public he calls Time Wasters. Rarely have I seen such a clear demonstration of how human eyes can smile as when Albert declares “T.W. on one.” and hands over the phone. The sparkle around his pupils convey more glee than any partnership his lips and teeth can muster.
“Benny’s Vacuum and Fax Machine Repairs.” I said into the phone, as Albert nodded approvingly.
“Listen. I’m calling from the office of the mayor. I need to speak to Benny pronto!” the voice said.
“I’m sorry there’s nobody here by that name,” I replied with a sigh, “but I’m happy to assist you. What can we help you fix today?”
“Listen. Don’t get cute with me. This is the mayor’s office calling and I want to speak to Benny, the very same Benny that owns Benny’s Vacuum and Fax Machine Repairs! He’s about five-ten, solid as a brick outhouse, with thick, black-rimmed glasses, and greying hair always parted to the side.” the voice continued, describing Albert perfectly.
“I’m sorry, the store owner, Albert, is not available right now, but again, I’m happy to see what we can do for you.” I half-groaned, looking into Albert’s cheer-filled eyes.
“Listen,” the voice said, as my mind began to recognize a pattern of annoyance. “I need a new watch battery, and I need it lickety-split.”
“Sure. It’ll cost you around $15 and we can install it for you while you wait.” I replied.
“Listen,” he ordered me, “I was already late for a meeting with the Chamber of Commerce today. I need this done now, and I need it done at City Hall!”
“No problem, sir.” I replied, “I’d be happy to dispatch a technician to take care of that. The call out rate’s a flat $35 more.”
“The name is Bradford.” he confirmed. “I’m the senior advisor in the office of the mayor. Have your tech here at 2:00 on the dot.”
“Sure thing Bradford, we’ll see you then.” I replied, hanging up the phone and turning to face Albert’s broad smile.
“Well, get the battery case and your tech hat on, and off you go to see T.W..” Albert said to me with unrelenting mirth. “And make sure he knows that even though he’s paying a few dollars more, he’s getting a premium battery with a five-year warranty, and not one of those Mickey Mouse jobs.”
Even the deadest of souls like mine feel a quiver in our stomach as we walk up the five concrete steps to enter City Hall, the grandest building in Widgeons Crossing. It’s hard not to be intimidated by the historic bell tower and the grandeur the peeling beige paint and faded white trim bring to the three-story building, not to mention the added difficulty of keeping those tummy butterflies behaved knowing a visit to the mayor’s office is only a few footsteps away.
“Good day, I’m here from Benny’s to help Bradford with the battery replacement in his watch.” I said as I approached a thoroughly forlorn looking lady behind the welcome desk.
“In there.” she replied, gesturing to an open door with a movement of her chin.
“It’s a good thing you’re here.” Bradford greeted me, emerging from the office with his watch in hand. “I need this fixed toute-de-suite. I have a priority-one roundtable with her worship’s economic advisory committee this afternoon.”
“I’ll be about ten minutes.” I told him. “I’ve brought a few batteries with me and it’s a straightforward job.”
He stopped me. “Before you begin, the Office of the Mayor has a policy of pre-paying. We pride ourselves on our ethics and our service to the community. I was quoted fifty dollars, and Rose,” he said, half-addressing the bored clerk with a flick of his chin, “will take care of it. Just grab it out of petty cash, Rose.”
“Thank you very much.” I replied, putting the folded fifty into my pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind me using the chair and table over there,” I indicated with a nudge of my own chin, “I’ll take your watch and put that new battery in for you.”
“The troubling thing is it only loses time during the workday.” Bradford said, handing it over to me. “It’s fine in the evenings and on weekends, but when I need it most, it lets me down.”
“Well sir,” I said with a straight face, looking down at the expensive time piece in my hand, “actually, this type of watch isn’t battery powered, it recharges itself automatically from the wearer’s pulse and activity.”
“Listen. I don’t have time for tech-talk, I just need a new battery put in.” Bradford countered in a monotone that betrayed his frustration.
“I understand completely sir, but the thing is, there’s no battery in your watch to replace.” I tried a second time. “These types of watches run off human energy. As long as you do something while you wear it, the watch will keep working for months on end.”
“Listen,” he surprised nobody by repeating again, “I’ll have a word with Benny about your customer service skills later, but right now I need to prepare for my 2:30. Leave the battery with Rose on your way out and I’ll change it myself.”
“Here you go, Rose.” I said, handing over a shiny battery still in its package. “It comes with a five-year warranty, so though it’s a few dollars more,” I couldn’t stop myself, “I’d like you to know, it’s not one of those Mickey Mouse jobs.
“He just doesn’t get it!” Rose whispered to me, showing interest or more likely sympathy towards me for the first time. “For the life of me, I can’t tell you how he fills the hours in the day, but having to interact with him is exhausting. All he does is run that nonsense machine of a mouth! Committee this! Senior advisor that! Priority one here! Gamechanger there! I just wish he would actually do something! I don’t care what it is, he can answer an e-mail, wash a coffee cup, or water a plant! But just once, I want to see him do something useful!”
“I sincerely doubt you’re alone in that, Rose.” I whispered to her before returning to a normal voice. “That’s right, the battery is guaranteed to last a whole five years.”
“Well, how did it go with T.W.?” Albert greeted me upon my return with a chuckle.
“Here’s your fifty.” I replied, handing over the note. “His watch is motion charged, but he wasn’t interested in hearing anything about that; and it turns out he’s just as charming in person as he is on the phone. In the end, there was nothing I could do for him but take the money and leave him a battery he doesn’t need and can’t use.”
“I heard,” Albert replied, with his eyes in full-on grin mode, “an old friend of mine in the mayor’s office called and gave me the details on life with T.W.! She was pleading for our help! The whole of City Hall has had it with him, and they’re all willing to chip in handsomely if we can fix that insufferable nonsense machine of a mouth! It doesn’t seem to have an off switch and it’s driving the whole place completely mad! She said they were going to send it over here for repair.”
“And what did you tell them, Albert?” I asked.
RULES No fax machines
“Nothing but the truth, my boy,” he answered in a tone full of wisdom, “I said we’d do our best, but there are things in this world more complicated than a vacuum cleaner. As much pain and sorrow as it may bring us, the truth of it is, not everything can be fixed.”
“You got that right, boss. The best we can hope for is to endure them. Say,” I continued, with a gesture of my chin towards an approaching figure that looked very much like Bradford, carrying a pillow-sized machine with a dangling cord towards the store, “It looks like that guy is coming in here with a fax machine!”, knowing, as I saw Albert crack his knuckles and roll-up his sleeves, it was my eyes that were bursting into one of those pure smiles this time.
Bobby Rollins is (gratefully) prone to daydreams, some of which he puts into words. He hopes his stories make people laugh and think, both of which he’d like more of in the world.