Tire, i mean.
Not my car, but my boss’.
I ran into my boss’ husband and a mall security guard trying to change a flat tire on their car when I was headed home from work the other night. Mr Boss asked if I had a jack in my car, and I smiled and said I wasn’t sure. See, I’m the type of person who would call for help in case of a flat tire. So I asked the guard if he would like to go take a look in the trunk, and maybe he’d find what they needed. Unfortunately, the guard didn’t seem to know where to begin looking for a jack any more than I did. Luckily, one of our suppliers was in the area, and he had a jack in his car. I said my goodbye’s, wished them good luck, and headed home.
I was so bothered about the fact that I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do in case of a tire emergency, so as soon as I got home, I asked Mr C if we had a jack in the car. He said yes, we have one, and I told him the story of what happened earlier and how I didn’t know where the tools were. He told me that everything was hidden under the spare tire, inside the trunk, underneath the carpet. And apparently we do have a tool box, a jack and an early warning device in the car. That’s strangely comforting.
At least I now know that if I’m ever faced with a flat, I can look for the most tall, dark and handsome guy within a 10-meter radius, and confidently say, “The tools are in the trunk”. Toink!
