Beech Tree News Network

On Saturday morning, I get a call from my husband, Garey, that the power outage from the night before has knocked our computer at New Image out of commission.  “The phone line is out also, and the computer is saying NO SIGNAL,” he says.  I tell him I’ll be right there, even though I was hoping to get the dishwasher loaded before work. 
    When I walk into the office, I find Garey under the desk with cords and surge strips in his hands.  The computer is quiet, the screen blank.  “Did you push the power button on the computer?”
    “What power button?” he says.
    “That big button right at the bottom center,” I say.
    He pushes the big button and the computer hums to life.  I tell him to get the screens up in the bays while I finish opening the center.  He opens bay 1, bay 2 is giving him grief.  He has inadvertently put a space in the user name where a space doesn’t go.  I remove the space, the screen pops up.  I wait for him to threaten to get his shot gun and blow the whole system into the parking lot next door.  He doesn’t.  “He’s growing,” I think. 
    Garey and I have worked together for years, through good times and bad, for better or worse.  Sometimes we’re not on the same page or even in the same book, for that matter, and it’s usually the little things that trip us up.  He is always telling me I keep the office at work too cold.  I am always telling him that I have to because the two-part invoice we use wads up in the computer—humidity is the culprit.  Until recently, he has always believed I use that as an excuse.
    “It’s cold enough to hang meat in here,” Garey announces one day this summer.  “There is no need to keep the office this cold.  A few degrees warmer isn’t going to hurt anything.”
    “Are you going to dislodge the paper from the printer when it jams?” I ask.
    He doesn’t answer.  He just raises the thermostat.  The little AC takes a break.
    We’re on the third customer when the paper starts to separate.  I grab the invoice in time to rescue it from the jaws of the printer, but not in time to keep the following invoice from jamming.  I tell the customer to have a nice day then stick my head into the oil bay and yell for Garey.   He watches as I wrestle the invoice free, destroying two more in the process.  It takes a while to get the next invoice lined up in order for it to feed through the printer properly.  (I don’t ask him to do this himself, because I want it to happen in my lifetime.)  When I finish, he walks over to the AC and lowers the thermostat to the original setting.  I don’t say a word.  I’ve learned to let the point make its self.
    Neither Garey nor I hear very well, so when a diesel truck comes into the building, the scene is ripe for miscommunication.  We always check lights on the vehicles we service.  One person operates the light switches inside the vehicle while the other confirms everything is working from outside of the vehicle.  On Friday, I was the inside-the-vehicle person on a diesel truck while Garey was outside the truck letting me know everything was working.
    I started the truck and turned on the signals while one of the guys checked the transmission.
    “Give me brakes and back-up,” Garey yelled.  I gave him brakes and back-up.
    “Now, take your foot off the brake,” he yelled.  I took my foot off the brake.
    At this point, I need to note that I had the driver’s side door open, and a couple of our guys were on that side of the truck with a clear view of my foot NOT applying the brakes.
    “I said take your foot off the brake!” Garey yelled over the noise of the diesel engine.
    “My foot isn’t on the brake!” I yelled back.
    “Then why are the brakes still lit up!” Garey shouted.
    “Maybe, you’re hallucinating,” I said, “because I do NOT have my foot on the brake, and I have witnesses!” 
    Our two employees, sensing they are about to become involved in a lose-lose situation, quickly find something to do on the other side of the building—we hire only the smartest people at New Image Car Care Center.  Eventually it’s decided that there is some sort of wiring problem going on.
    Garey and I have learned to make sure we clear the air with each other before the end of each day, even if it’s agreeing to disagree, because we have to go home together.  It is the one right that keeps the wrongs from waylaying us.