Never the Same IC#38 Kirk Makes a Change

Finally, Kirk decided to take matters into his own hands, but with what outcome?

Cue: “Change” https://youtu.be/ccvWyzJxPRM?si=81Mp_RszblRa4IMg

Kirk didn’t feel the same except for being in a slump. His inevitable cyclic reoccurrence. He was so in a slump that he avoided going to see and spending time with Sarah Elizabeth. He didn’t want to contaminate her usual good spirits with his bad spirits. The light in the sky that they had watched continually intruded into his conscious thoughts whether at home or at work. He’d be minding his own business in a depressed sort of way and WHUMP! There it was in his mind’s eye, whatever that light was that they saw. Kirk had already perused the newspaper and television newscasts to see if anyone else had made the remarkable observation like Sarah and he, but wither no one else saw it or no one cared to talk about it. They didn’t want to be labeled as illiterate PSYCHOS! Kirk and Sarah had already agreed not to discuss what they saw past their brief mention of it when trying to explain to Sarah’s parents to why they arrived late. Yeah, it would have went over really well saying that they were abducted by flying saucers and the couple had experienced “missing time.” That would fly like a, a, lead flying saucer!

Well, the event came to mind every now and then, but on a certain Monday he decided to find a backbone concerning his work and not the sighting. Kirk had planned to take action first thing on Monday morning, but his backbone sort of melted, so he let his plan slide. Tuesday, same thing happened. And Wednesday and Thursday. It bugged him. On Friday, right after punching in he waited for Marty to be free for a minute. It didn’t happen, they were swamped, so Kirk checked his inbox and went to work. By late Friday, almost quitting time, things were winding down and the mechanics were just cleaning their bays, cleaning tools, and preparing to leave. Kirk took a deep breath and walked over to the service desk. Marty and Bob were just chatting.

“Got a minute, Marty?” Kirk asked.

“Sure Kirk, what’s up?” Marty asked.

“Well, I’ve been thinking.” Marty’s demeanor changed a little. “I’ve been working here, ah, about a year and a half.” Marty leaned on the counter and stared at Kirk who swallowed hard and broke out in a sweat.

“And?”

“Well, I, I think that I should get a raise.” 

“Okay,” Marty said. Kirk felt a breath of relief wash over him. “Well Kirk, the boss has to approve all raises. He controls the purse strings, so I’ll have to bring your request up to him. Probably next week. Okay?”

“Okay, sounds good.” Kirk said. He turned to leave, but paused to turn back to see Bob raising his eyes with a non-verbal remark toward Marty. “Ah, have a good weekend.”

“You too, Kirk. Hey, are you racing this weekend?”

“Yep, every weekend.”

“Well, good luck out there on the track.”

“Thanks,” Kirk said and returned to his bay. He locked up his box, punched out and strolled down through the center of the long building’s center metal grate rattling under his steps. He went out, got in his pink van and sat there. He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel.

Being Friday, Kirk’s attention focused on racing over the weekend. His car still sat on the trailer, untouched from the previous weekend except for a quick wipe down to remove the oil drips and smears from the chronic leak problem. Kirk assumed Mike just gave up because of the incident with track officials over his own leak and the fact Mike hadn’t been able to win a feature. Kirk, in retrospect, would simply like to win a heat or a consolation race, but no, he was always an also ran. Knowing Kirk from his previous sporting endeavors, he would unfailingly continue to show up for the races even though it didn’t mean any fame or glory for the young racer. 

The weekend of racing went as always: No wins, a few points made. He minded his oil leak the best he could, but lining up for his heat he noticed the track steward eying up his engine. Kirk tried to convince himself that it was just a coincidence and he was being paranoid.

On Monday at work, Kirk expected Marty to tell him to talk to the “boss” the owner of the dealership, but nothing was said about it neither by Kirk or Marty. The week slid by. When Friday rolled into view Kirk, at lunch, nonchalantly as much as he could garner, asked Marty if he had spoken to the boss. Marty told Kirk he’d let him know about a sit down. Later that afternoon, Marty informed Kirk that he could talk to the boss about a raise at four o’clock, an hour before quitting. Kirk’s pulse rate accelerated like his pedal to the metal. He had never had a job interview even for his present mechanic job, but they had touched upon interviews at Vo-Tech College.

As zero hour approached, Kirk washed up the best he could. Marty informed him that he needed to go up to the conference room. Kirk had been there before to take classes, but wondered why he needed to talk to the boss there. Was there going to be a room full of other people: salesmen, secretaries, his fellow mechanics? Kirk didn’t have a clue, but he marched on up there on the second floor. Going in the room, he was instantly relieved, to a point anyway, that it was just the boss, Mister Carzini. (Not his real name). He sat at the head of the long table that had seating for at least twelve. He sat behind a pile of paperwork. Most, as Kirk perceived were auto purchase contracts. Mister Carzini wore a white three-piece suit had slicked down dark hair and a pencil-thin mustache. When Kirk had seen him before, he thought mob. 

“Hello,” Mister Carzini greeted warmly. “You must be young Kirk Biscuit.” He extended his hand that Kirk reached to grasp, but didn’t quite extend his hand far enough so Carzini tightly gripped his fingers instead of his hand. Nice show Kirk.

“Have a seat,” Carzini offered a seat close to him.

Kirk sat down stiffly. He didn’t lean back.

“So. Marty spoke in high regards on your behalf.” He paused and gazed trying to look into Kirk’s downcast eyes. “He said that you never complain about the workload or tasks you’re assigned. How do feel about your working environment.”

Kirk swallowed or tried to in his dry throat. “I can’t complain.” Kirk wanted to kick himself. “Marty and Bob are decent to work for. Even when I’ve messed up�"” He caught himself. “You know, when I started working here, they didn’t come down on me or anything.” Kirk told himself stupid to bring that up!

“Oh sure, they’re good people. So. How long have you been working here?

“A little over a year and half.”

“Not a very long time then, huh?”

“I suppose.” Kirk fidgeted.

“Have you attended any factory seminars?” 

“Yes! I’ve taken the four-barrel carburetor class, the electronic ignition class and the automatic transmission course which was extensive.”

Carzini seemed to analyze this information. “So, after the transmission course, are you ready to rebuild transmissions then? That would be a big step up for you, right?”

            Kirk was not ready and he knew it. He paused, trying to think through it, but he wasn’t one to quickly think on the spot. “Ah, I think I need to practice a few times before actually taking on a customer’s transmission.”

            “I see. Marty did mention that you haven’t completed many jobs that broke into flat rate territory yet.”

            “Well, yeah, I guess not. But I’m usually assigned warranty type jobs that are ah, nearly impossible to exceed the allotted flat rate time allowance.”

            “I see.” He seemed to think the situation over a moment. “All right. Main thing I wanted to do here is to put a face to your name Kirk. Well, thanks for our little chat. I’ll talk this over with Marty and get back to you soon.”

            He stood up and put his hand out to shake again. Kirk in trying to correct his faux pa of shaking hands at the start jammed his hand deep into Mister Carzini’s and squeezed�"probably too hard.

            “Thank you, Mister Carzini. Have a good weekend.”

            “Say. Aren’t you the young man with a stock car that Chuck is sponsoring?”

            The fact wasn’t Kirk’s favorite subject as he figured he hadn’t actually gotten much out of Chuck’s “sponsoring” except for Chuck’s name and the dealership plastered across his stock car’s hood.

            “Yes, I am. I race the two tracks every weekend.”

            “You do? Well, good luck out there. I’ll mention our chat to Chuck.”

            “Okay. Thanks.” Kirk said and strode out the open door.

            By then it approached quitting time, so Kirk just straightened out his stall and put his tools away. He gave a wave to Marty and Bob as he went to the entrance to punch out. No words were exchanged. Kirk wondered how the request for his raise would pan out, but his expectations weren’t remaining too high. He headed into another weekend of racing.

            Without his navigator/girlfriend Sarah he drove to the Saturday night races. The Holland Speedway track officials were doing their spot checks at the entry point again. The official walked around his car giving a look to the required window net, giving the shoulder harness a good tug, and checking for anything sharp inside the cockpit. He strolled around the right side of the engine and stopped. Kirk heart twitched. He stepped over there trying not to appear concerned. Kirk looked where the official looked. His engine was clean, you might exceptionally clean because the oil leaked and Kirk kept after it keeping the engine really clean. The painted engine and frame looked shiny damp, you know, with a film of oil making it appear shiny wet. The official wiped a finger on the frame rail. Kirk knew it was not wet with oil, but the official wiped his fingers together.

            “These engines are notorious leakers aren’t they?” the official asked Kirk turning to him for a personal perspective.

            Kirk didn’t like the pressure. “I guess so�"but mine hasn’t shown much of a�"it isn’t too bad.”

            “So, did Mike quit racing because of the run in with the official, which was me, that one night on the track�"you know after the black flag.”

            “Ah, ah, oh! He hasn’t raced because he has so many other things going on over the weekends.” Kirk managed. Which was pretty close to a true statement.

            The trucks and trailers seemed to be getting impatient with the hold up by Kirk’s rig.

            “Well, you look good. Have a good night racing.”

            “Thanks,” Kirk said, jumping into his van and motoring into the pits. He wiped his damp forehead with his sleeve.

            It just wasn’t the same in the pits without the upbeat attitude of Dan and the focused few words of his brother-in-law Mike. Basically, he unloaded the car, opened his pink van’s side cargo doors, and sat there waiting for his time on the track. He wouldn’t admit it straight out, but he had become addicted to racing. Even though he hadn’t won anything, the rush of heading out into the coliseum of speed with the other guys who, like mindedly were after the elusive (especially for Kirk) checkered flag. The noise, smells; the senses came alive out there on the track and that’s probable why he showed up every single weekend to drive around in circles on both tracks. When his class’s first heat lined up, he nonchalantly crawled into his tight cockpit. With all the five-point harnesses cinched down, and he donned his helmet. He took a deep breath and eyed straight down the middle of his car’s hood. (Remember his seat was positioned right in the center of the car.)

Well, the night turned out to action packed with a spin out right in front of Kirk that he narrowly missed and the close racing he craved with the yellow car and Charlie at the wheel. Nothing like some close wheel to wheel racing with a bit bumping and rubbing. Nothing wrong with that. Nevertheless, it turned out to another night of the same outcomes with finishing out of contention in the heat and the consolation, so he was left to sit in the stands to watch the feature races. Nowhere before had Kirk had heard that stock car racing was a one-man enterprise. Maybe he was the first without a team to back him up, but he recalled that racing began from moonshine running which, for the most part was a solo adventure. Then again, someone had to produce, sell and buy moonshine, so maybe that wasn’t even a one-up adventure. Kirk had accepted for a long time that he was a loner and it really sank in at the tracks. Maybe he needed to at least bring Sarah Elizabeth along. Perhaps the upcoming weekend.

Anyway, he started another week at work with an upbeat, hopeful attitude feeling quite sure that he’d get the raise. How much? A quarter an hour, maybe a dollar an hour which would be awesome. Punching in on Monday, things went as usual with his tasks and interactions with Marty and Bob. Nothing was said and Kirk thought asking would be extremely presumptuous, so he pressed on just the same though he made an effort to work just a bit faster, harder and more efficiently. He concentrated on his tasks, so his mind didn’t wander which usually led to mistakes and do-overs.  Nothing was said or asked on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday. Kirk was getting antsy about getting a raise. He really knew that he deserved a raise without having a clue to how long was the average for a first pay raise. He didn’t think about the economy and if wages were rising or falling at the time. He just thought he had paid his dues. On Friday morning after punching in he gathered up a stiff back and approached Marty. There weren’t any customers around at the moment and Marty busily wrote on a work order.

“Morning Marty, ah, immm, I was wondering if you talked to Mister Carzini�"you know about a raise�"for me?”

Marty looked up. “Oh, Kirk. You know I haven’t had a chance to tlak to Mister Carzini. He was gone to the other dealership for a couple days and so we haven’t had time to discuss it.” He paused to study the silent Kirk who appeared like he wanted an answer. “Maybe I can track him down today, see what he says.”

“All right, sounds good,” Kirk said and went to the assignment rack to pull his work orders. He had a new car to prep and another with a myriad of minor warranty problems like water leaks, turn signals not cancelling, minor engine leaks (A bane to Kirk’s existence) and so on. At least Dodge seemed to have solved the problem with tail lights filling up with rain water which Kirk addressed plenty of times.  The Friday progressed the same as usual.

As quitting time approached, Kirk noticed Marty went up front where the offices resided. Maybe, he thought. He continued working on his tasks, but his mind was on the raise. After several minutes, Marty came back to stand at his station behind the service counter. Out of one eye, Kirk noticed that Marty didn’t look his way. A bad sign, Kirk thought.

Kirk finished his work orders as best he could without any discrepancies when Bob checked them out. Kirk felt pretty good. In the last minutes before punching out, Kirk gained enough gumption to approach Marty with the question on his mind.

“Hey Marty, all set for today!” Kirk said confidently.

“Yeah, good job today, Kirk. Finished up with good results.”

“So.” Kirk didn’t think he could get it out. “Ah, so did you get to talk to the boss about my raise?”

“Yes, I did Kirk. We sat down and discussed your work and your future here.”

Kirk thought he should say something for his own benefit, but nothing came to mind. Marty looked at him like he expected something from Kirk as well.

Marty continued: “So between the boss and myself, well, we decided you need some more time, more experience before getting raise. Maybe next year on your anniversary date.”

Marty stared down at the silent Kirk whose eyes were tearing up. Silently, Kirk went over to finish cleaning up and putting his tools absent-mindedly away, because he could not comprehend not getting a raise. His thoughts focused centrally on his prior certainty that he deserved a raise. I worked hard. I hadn’t messed up lately. I am the lowest paid mechanic and need to get a raise. I deserve a raise!

Kirk found his disbelieving thoughts morph into anger and then rage.

He strode over and punched out. With wet eyes, rage in his racing, pounding heart he strode over to Marty.

“I won’t be coming back. I quit.”

“What? Kirk, do you think that’s a good decision? I’m sure a raise would be fitting next year and with gaining more experience it could be substantial.”

“No. I’m getting my van and packing up my tools. I’m going.” Kirk rubbed his cheek with his sleeve.

“Kirk. Think about it. The standard is to give a two-week notice when quitting. You know, to ensure a good reference on another job.”

“I don’t care. I won’t be here Monday. Good bye.”

Kirk strode down the length of the building following the drain grating, clunking along just like he’d done hundreds of times. He got in his van, drove it down the center of the building, opened the side doors, and wrestled his heavy tool box inside. He could hear the van’s exhaust echo in the building. A couple mechanics and the tire man continued working without looking up, not noticing Kirk leaving the dealership for the last time. His mind spun so much that he didn’t even consider what would come next for him as he drove home. No clue. No idea.

The overly emotional rash Kirk would be Never the Same.