This story is true, but the details have been adapted, and the names changed to protect the “innocent” and the “guilty.”
As you know, much of what I write about comes from the trenches. If you have a “Believe It or Not” story that the industry could learn from, send it my way. Your identity will also be protected.
Every shop has its share of “waiters”- those anxious customers who camp out in the lounge like they’re holding vigil for their vehicle. They watch every movement in the shop. They read every posted sign. They stare at their phone but never really see it. Their fear sits right next to them like a second cup of coffee.
Gary, our protagonist, was one of those waiters.
He arrived at Smith’s Transmissions one Tuesday morning with his SUV making noises that sounded like a fork in a garbage disposal. The transmission wasn’t just unhappy; it was staging a full-scale revolt.
Gary seemed very anxious and somewhat out of touch. His veryfirst comment?
- Not about the slipping.
- Not about the delay going into gear.
- Not about the noise that made the techs wince.
No. He simply said, “My check engine light is on?”
Apparently, in Gary’s universe, the check engine light was the judge, jury, and chief diagnostic authority.
The Inspection: Reality vs. Denial
Shannon, the endlessly patient service writer, suggested an undercar inspection and pan examination. Nothing invasive, nothing extreme – just the usual “let’s see how bad this really is.”
Gary agreed. He also announced that he would “just wait in the lounge” because he “didn’t want to be a bother.”
Translation: He will absolutely be a bother.
They pushed the vehicle into the bay because it barely moved under its own power. Got it lifted. Dropped the pan. And it looked like a metal-based snow globe exploded.
- Shards.
- Glitter.
- Burnt clutch material.
- Pieces of planetaries that had seen better decades.
And here’s the important part. Gary saw it all with his own eyes. He stood there at the edge of the bay, arms folded, watching the pan get carried to the workbench like a doctor delivering an autopsy report.
Shannon walked him through the findings. Calm. Kind. Professional.
Gary nodded, his face slowly falling as reality elbowed its way into the conversation.
He provided the estimate. Explained the repair. Answered his questions.
Gary looked overwhelmed, anxious, and a little pale. Then came the classic line…
“Just put it back together for now. I need to think about it.”
Every transmission professional reading this just felt a chill.
So, the shop did what Gary asked.
- Cleaned the pan
- Replaced it with a fresh gasket
- Refilled the fluid to the proper level
- Documented everything
You guessed it. The vehicle now moved. Not well… but well enough to back out, and Gary drove away slowly, the check engine light still illuminated and still occupying more of his emotional bandwidth than the actual mechanical disaster he had just seen.
The Magical Moment
An hour after he left, the phone rang. Shannon answered…
“Good news!” Gary announced, cheerful as a man who believes in mechanical miracles. “I took it to AutoZone. The guy there plugged in one of those electronic gizmos – he said he cleared the codes for me. My check engine light went off. And now everything is fine!”
Shannon quietly sighed and rolled his eyes. He continued, “So, I won’t need that repair after all. Just wanted to let you know!”
Shannon thought to himself, this was the same guy who:
- Watched the pan come off
- Saw the glitter bomb of metal
- Heard the transmission’s death screams
- Felt the slipping and delays
But the check engine light went off, so in his mind – Case closed. Transmission magically healed. All is well. The dashboard was quiet, and that was enough.
Two Days Later…
It didn’t take long for hope to run out of horsepower for Gary. Two mornings later, a tow truck rolled into the lot carrying Gary’s now entirely nonfunctional SUV.
- No movement.
- No engagement.
- No drive.
- No reverse.
- Even, no noise.
- Nothing.
The transmission had officially transitioned from “terminal” to “postmortem.”
Gary marched into the office with frustration dripping off of him like sweat in July. “I think you guys must’ve done something to my transmission!”
Let’s pause and review the chain of events he was forgetting:
- He saw the metal in the pan
- He declined the repair
- He watched them put it back together
- He drove it away
- He took it to AutoZone
- They cleared the codes
- He declared it “fixed”
- He drove it again
- It failed completely
- And now it was the shop’s fault! You Can’t Make This Up!
Under Behavior, What’s Really Going On?
It’s easy to laugh – and honestly, this column is meant to occasionally give you a good chuckle – but beneath the humor lies a truth that every shop owner needs to remember.
Customers aren’t irrational – they’re scared.
- Scared of big expenses.
- Scared of bad news.
- Scared of losing transportation.
- Scared they caused the problem.
- Scared that the shop will judge them.
- Scared they can’t afford the fix.
- Scared they’re getting ripped off.
Fear changes how people think.
- Fear makes the check engine light seem more important than shredded planetaries.
- Fear makes a scan tool seem more trustworthy than their own ears.
- Fear makes temporary silence on the dashboard feel like a miracle.
- Fear makes people behave irrationally and cling to hope like a lifeline – even hope as thin as “I cleared the codes, so it must be fine.”
Gary wasn’t trying to be difficult. He was trying to outrun dread. He didn’t reject the facts. He rejected the fear those facts represented. Denial has powerful wings.
Lessons for the Shop
This is more than a funny story; it’s a masterclass in customer psychology.
1. Customers trust feelings more than findings and facts.
The quiet dashboard felt reassuring. The pan full of metal felt overwhelming.
Guess which one the brain chose?
2. Documentation saves the day.
Pictures. Notes. Witnessing the damage and contamination. The more you record, the less you argue.
3. Speak to the fear first.
Try: “I know this can be stressful. Let me walk you through it.”
Explain the process, beginning with the diagnostic steps and likely outcomes.
This calms the emotional system so the logical system can do its job.
4. Never shame a customer.
Avoid: “You should’ve brought it in sooner.”
Try: “The good news is we can still fix this.” Same truth. Softer landing.
5. Stay patient – especially with waiters.
They’re not hovering because they doubt you.
They’re hovering because their life feels very out of control, for the moment.
6. Remember your purpose.
You’re not just fixing mechanical systems. You’re calming emotional systems. That’s the hidden job description in this industry.
The story does have a happy ending. Shannon, being a consummate professional, was able to calm Gary down and help him understand what happened. He ultimately had the repairs performed, and today, he’s one of the shop’s biggest boosters.
You might like to read “Regret Avoidance Syndrome” in the August 2024 issue of GEARS Magazine. You’ll find additional tips for handling irrational customers in that article.
Is It Your Turn to Anonymously Share a Story?
This industry is full of unbelievable, hilarious, tear-jerking, head-shaking moments -stories that entertain, teach, and remind us that we’re all navigating the same human circus.
If you have a moment that made you say, “You can’t make this up!” send it my way. I’ll adapt the story, disguise the people and the shop, and turn it into something the whole industry can laugh at, cry over, and learn from.
Because sometimes the things that drive us crazy today, turn into the stories that help somebody else tomorrow.
About the author — Thom Tschetter has served our industry for over four decades. His article topics come from our readers and Thom’s years as a speaker, writer, certified arbitrator, business consultant, and his own in-the-trenches experiences. Thom owned a chain of award-winning transmission shops in Washington State, and ATRA presented him with a Lifetime Achievement Award for his years of training for the transmission industry.
