The vehicle is broken, where to take it?
The price may be wrong, but the service is right
He will get it fixed for you just give him some time.
You tell him its the dash, he finds that its the engine,
You tell him that its the brakes, he finds its in the throttle.
But when you tell him these things, he takes it all in stride
He tries to fix it right, because of his mindset and his pride
He never yells at you, for saying it was the brakes,
When all he finds wrong is worn tires, or a clutch
But yet, you find it right to yell at him, when he didnt fix it right
When hes already worked fourteen hours on it, and only got paid for five.
You find it right to yell at him, when he has done his best, going off what you told him, not ever taking a rest.
He was under it, in it, and over it with a fine tooth comb, and nary a problem seen,
But you think it right to yell at him, another human being.
He should tell you to go screw yourself, try and fix it on your own
But note, he takes it back inside. He takes it all apart, runs through it one more time, he puts it back together again, and now its running fine.
But never do you thank him, and you never truly cared, but you wonder why you get poor service, when you go back in for more.
(not sure what to call this, its an ode, slightly poetic, without a real rhyme scheme, and at the same time a short piece. Meh, just trying to get mechanics noticed. They never get recognition for the work that they do.)
The price may be wrong, but the service is right
He will get it fixed for you just give him some time.
You tell him its the dash, he finds that its the engine,
You tell him that its the brakes, he finds its in the throttle.
But when you tell him these things, he takes it all in stride
He tries to fix it right, because of his mindset and his pride
He never yells at you, for saying it was the brakes,
When all he finds wrong is worn tires, or a clutch
But yet, you find it right to yell at him, when he didnt fix it right
When hes already worked fourteen hours on it, and only got paid for five.
You find it right to yell at him, when he has done his best, going off what you told him, not ever taking a rest.
He was under it, in it, and over it with a fine tooth comb, and nary a problem seen,
But you think it right to yell at him, another human being.
He should tell you to go screw yourself, try and fix it on your own
But note, he takes it back inside. He takes it all apart, runs through it one more time, he puts it back together again, and now its running fine.
But never do you thank him, and you never truly cared, but you wonder why you get poor service, when you go back in for more.
(not sure what to call this, its an ode, slightly poetic, without a real rhyme scheme, and at the same time a short piece. Meh, just trying to get mechanics noticed. They never get recognition for the work that they do.)
