night repairman

Tricky parts, these Ecronoids, they got pieces in places no sensible appliance oughta. But hey, got screwdriver, will travel. So the shop rings me up and I answer, yo. My earpiece is a bit clogged with wax 'cause I've been sleepin' on it for a week. And there's a bit of water and shampoo residue as well. Jeez, I really need to get more sleep instead of coming in at four and crashing face down on the couch. Too many jobs and good appliance repairmen are few and far between. Maybe I should take less work and charge more? Nah, not my style.

This model has tiny little screws and I keep dropping them into the carpet. What a crappy old room; most of my clients have hard woods, or newfangled industrial surfaces, not Evelyn. “Hey Evy, what's up with the shag? Get with the times.” She can't hear, she's in the shower and singing to boot. Barry Manilow! Talk about oldies. The unit shifts a bit and I lose another screw. Shit the bed! Got more in the levtruck. Screws up the wazoo.

Last night was a humdinger. Nasty piece of work called a Pentapoint V-5. Talk about redundant. Gack. I hate the casters on those damned things, took me three hours to disassemble just for a two credit part. Of course the mister was away so I was payed out of pocket; out of pants more like it, hence the late hours. And here comes Evelyn out of the bedroom wrapped in a towel wondering when her little discount all purpose appliance will be up and running. Oops, another screw. Ha, did I just say that? Not out loud I hope. Many more nights like this and I'll have to take a vacation.

“Twenty minutes, best guess.” Evelyn sighs and retreats to the bedroom. I hear the viewtube switch on and ask for preferences. My preference was to pull the AI switch, frankly to hit the kill switch. Can't stand to walk into a room just to have the wall start to flash random images and incomprehensible daily mutterings. A little peace, is that too much to ask for? My thoughts, want to hear them? These crazy housewives have every thing in the world right at their fingertips. Information, home deliveries, viewphones, massage showers and spas. Tacky little gogo appliances to fetch them frufru drinks and style their hair. They have no good reason to leave the three hundred story sky rises they're holed up in, and who wants to take a three minute express magnarail ride, so they break off pieces of their plastic kitchens and sprinkle them into appliances to gum up the works, then call for a serviceman. Really, it's just a big joke in the industry anymore. Sure, we need to know a standard bleck from a Phillips head, and a magnetized screw bit always comes in handy, but sideburns and a gnarly tattoo are the real prerequisite. Man am I tired. I'd ask the store router to give me a legitimate job, but hell, they pay half rate, so I hate to complain. And the tax man can't legally force me to claim 'tips', so so; buck up, switch on and socks off.

“What the hell?” This little dude has a crispy filament and a noticeable wobble. “Hey, Evelyn.” She pokes her head out the door. Her hair is in a styling globe. “Hey, how long has this little dude been acting up?”

“Couple days, I guess. Maybe more.” This was a small gogo unit and depending on the client they did between no work to a hundred hours weekly. I've seen 'em run off their rollers with wear, but this one is fairly clean and looks to have factory fittings. It's an O-8, so at least a decade old.

Now she's out in the kitchen looking through some drawers for a nail file.

“Ah, looks like a wire. A bad wire. Got one in my kit here. Another minute or two...”

“Good. My date is waiting at the midlevel express. Another twenty minutes and he'll be polluted.” She smooths out her way short mini with half bent knees.

I snap the lid on and pack it up. “You'll get the bill electronically, probably business hours.” Evy sees me to the lift and taps a bonus ten spot into my personal meter. “Want to share a ride? We can put it on slow-mo and flood the cabin with mood atmosphere?” Evelyn flutters half inch pink pindrop eyelashes at me and strokes my scruffy cheek.

Best offer I've had all week, but to tell the truth, I feel a bit low on oil. “Oh, ha ha. I've got a call over the span in your sister building. Ha ha, you know; no rest for the wicked.”

Evy winks at me wickedly. “You scoundrel. Don't be surprised if I don't drop a counter top on little winky next week and ask for you personally. You hear me?”

I beat a trail to the next building and called it night. Even let the wall talk me to sleep. Drone away, you crazy stupid viewtube. Drone away.