There are times, returning late at night from a job, sitting in the darkness of the cab of our service truck, covered with grease and aching from hours of abuse, when we wonder why we do it. Why do we continue to fly the banner of “service truck technician?”
The money is good, but not compared to the number of hours we put in. We miss many of our kids’ ball games and concerts. Our wife spends a lot of evenings and weekends without us. Our body is battered because we often work alone, under near-impossible conditions, without the benefits of concrete floors and any special tools manufacturers recommend for repairs. Rain and snow are part of the job. Mud and ice are frosting on the cake.
It’s easy to get discouraged. Sometimes a career in the shop looks tempting.
It would sure be easier than what we put up with out in the country.
But then you get a phone call from a customer. Last year that guy slipped you an extra $200 for staying late to get his machine going. He insists that only you work on his machines because he doesn’t have as much faith in other mechanics.
So you go out, size up the problem and fix it in an easy hour. Or, it’s a nightmare that takes the better part of a week. But you fix it. All by yourself, using your years of experience (and a few hunches) to heal that machine. The machine returns to work as you put away your tools, wipe off your hands and steer your truck down the road toward home.
Your route takes you past offices where you can see people sitting at desks. The same desk they sat behind yesterday, and will sit behind tomorrow. Shuffling papers or staring at a computer screen in a cubicle.
Maybe that’s why we do it. Because we prefer to work with our hands, work out of doors, with every day presenting a new challenge. It ain’t easy, it ain’t always fun, but it ain’t all bad.
