And I could ramble on but you get the idea.
The Mechanic's Lament
I'm a journeyman technician
In an automotive shop.
I'm supposed to know the answers
From the bottom to the top.
I should diagnose the problem
With just a single look.
And if I fail to fix it
You think that I'm a crook.
When I charge you for my labor
You scream and bitch and moan,
And even call and threaten me
Upon the telephone.
But technology in the automotive
Is advancing every year.
And for the systems I must know
I simply have no peer.
Electronics now have made the scene
And more are coming yet.
Some models now will far exceed
Your television set.
In hydraulics I have more to learn
Than a specialist in pumps.
There's brakes and shock absorbers
To help absorb the bumps.
Torque converters and transmission
With servos, valves, and gears.
With models by the hundreds
Introduced in recent years.
Fuel systems of a hundred kinds
I must adjust and meter.
Each far more complicated
Than your water heater.
I'm in welding, I'm in plumbing
For water, oil and fuel.
Compared to me, a plumber
Is a kid in grammar school.
There's alignment and there's balancing
And God alone knows what.
If I fix it, that's expected
If I don't I'm on the spot.
There's models, makes and systems
Some seven hundred strong.
And new ones coming up each year
To help the scheme along.
Now compare me to a doctor
Whose prices make mine meager.
Yet folks revere his expertise
Ever more impressed and eager.
The human body hasn't changed
In twenty thousand years.
And every model works just the same
From the ankles to the ears.
There's new equipment and techniques
And medicines for sure.
But this is true in my field too
As much or even more.
There's lots of books he has to read
His procedures to define.
But for every page in his field
There's twenty five in mine.
There's no comebacks and no warranty
You pay for what you get.
And then come back and pay again
If he hasn't fixed it yet.
His mistakes are often buried
While mine come back for free.
And he plays golf on Wednesday
While my customers hassle me.
We spend millions of tax dollars
Sending kids to medical school,
But if you ask for some in my field
You're treated like a fool.
Every body has one body,
No one has more.
But when it comes to autos,
You may have three or four.
But you'll go right on complaining
Of the way I run my show,
With no appreciation
For the things I have to know.
And you'll take your high school dropouts
And shove them off on us,
And expect them to be experts
While you rant and rave and fuss.
And when your car cannot be services
I'll not hang my head in shame.
So you'd best wake up American
And find out who's to blame.