“Start raising it now,” I said quietly. “I’m the owner, manager and office boy all rolled into one. I’m sorry to see such a grand car busted like this.”
She eyed me up and down. “So you’re sorry, are you? What am I supposed to do? Smile and drive away? Let me tell you that you haven’t started to be sorry yet!”
I would have liked to have slapped her, but remembering that customers are always right, I said I’d have the fender fixed for her immediately.
“What?” she snapped. “I wouldn’t let you touch it.” She drummed on the steering wheel. “I must have been crazy to have turned into a hick joint like this. Well, it’ll certainly “be a lesson to me. No more hick joints for me.”
I felt my temper rising, so I walked to the front of the car, inspected the damage. It certainly was pretty bad, and it seemed to me she must have rammed the wall with considerable force.
“Just to get the record straight,” I said, coming back, “just how did this happen?”
“I was reversing … I mean I was coming forward—”
“You were reversing, you mean,” I said. “You couldn’t have come forward from this angle. But you made a mistake in the gears and your car jumped forward.” I glanced inside the car. “If you look, you’ll see your gear is still in bottom.”
She opened the car door, her eyes flashing.
“Are you suggesting I can’t drive a car?” she asked, getting out of the car, facing me.