I slam the shifter thing into P and jump out, just to show my little audience back there who’s boss. I begin to walk around the vehicle, inspecting it. After a moment, I stop near the front right tire and examine it a bit more closely. A fine greasy handprint, highly visible, is still there. Well, well. A chink in Tammy’s youthful armor has just presented itself. Calmly now, with absolute resolve and composure, I dial the number on the receipt that I’m still clutching in one whitened fist. I am careful to add the area code, as one must frustratingly do these days. And then I wait. I wait until a male voice answers: “Hello, Happy Lube, may I be of service?”

“Yes, you may. I just received your Blue Ribbon Lube and I’m not satisfied with the work. Could you send Tammy out, please? I’m right out front.”

I can see a commotion beginning inside, with several faces peering out through the polarized glass at me. I’m sure that I even hear her voice at one point—Tammy’s—as she says, “No way!” or something else equally negative and childish. Finally, a young man, no more than nineteen and sporting those sideburns that boys are wearing these days (and, if I’m not mistaken, he may even attend the technical institute where I teach), emerges from the exit and wanders toward me. Cleaning his hands carefully on a Happy Lube rag as he approaches.

“Can I help you?”

“I asked for Tammy.”

“Umm, she’s on a break.”

“I see. A break, huh? At nine A.M.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fine, just as well, because she’s lousy at her job.”

“What’s the problem?”

I smirk, pointing at the offending mark near the headlight.

“She left that.”

“What, the handprint there?”

“Yes, I just waxed the thing and I’d like you people to take care of it.”

“Fine, whatever.” The boy moves over and chammies the oil spot away in a flash. He does a passable job, but nothing more. “Is that all?” he says, looking down.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.”

“Good. Right.”

I turn to get back into my Oldsmobile when I hear, rather softly, “You sure you don’t wanna gimme your number?”

I turn and face him, both surprised and outraged by his snot-nosed boldness. “What did you say?”