This morning I got up and pulled on some cover-alls. It took awhile to find them in the closet. Our church was offering free-oil changes and safety inspections to senior citizens and those on limited incomes. Bob, our master mechanic with about 60 years of experience, showed up in jeans and a T-shirt. As an English teacher, I didn’t bring many skills to the task–but people often talked to me first because I had on the greasy, paint- splattered cover-alls. I guess I looked like a grease-monkey.
Even though I was only pouring oil and checking the air in the tires, I found that my years of teaching at the college had given me one valuable skill. Even when I had no idea what I was talking about, I could still say stuff with great authority. So with knowing looks and an air of authority, I said, “Yep, your oil was dirty and the left rear tire was 10 psi low. You’re losing tread on the edge of that tire so you may have a slow leak. You may want to get that tire checked.” And if they had asked, I would have told them (wrongly) how to fix their transmission. After-all, I had on cover-alls.
