I'm breaking in a new auto mechanic, today.

Or is it the other way around?

My first encounter with professional mechanics occurred in a beach town. The VW dealership was anything but laid back.

Once you waited your turn, the service advisors in long white coats, seemed to emerge from an ultra-secretive experiment. Stoically, they would break the bad news the only way they knew how.

"You car, unfortunately, needs a valve job. The compression is practically zero. Of course, we can overhaul it here, however if cost is an issue for you, then you might look into an independent."

A corner chop-shop, is what he meant, but his parsed lips and Old World, craftsman demeanor would not allow him to condescend to using such language.

Anyway, his time was at risk, which commanded a premium, so you had two seconds to say let's do it, or I'm out of here. As a struggling college student my script didn't permit the largesse involved in the first reply.

So, I'd beggar away to some neighborhood geek who would laugh when he looked under the hood.

"Did you actually drive this thing over here?" he'd wisecrack. "What have others been quoting you, a couple of grand, right? I'll do it for fourteen hundred out the door, but you'll have to leave it for a couple of weeks before I can get to it."

Today, as I left my tenth European vehicle at yet another shop, I started to wonder.

Who is the real client, here? Me, or is it the car?

It's almost the same, out-of-body feeling you get when you visit the doctor.

I complained to my dermatologist that I had a lump that needed to be removed. It hurt and I felt it was about to burst.

He looked and replied, "It's not that big."

"I know, but I'm in pain and it wants to explode."

"Ok, we'll go into the other room and operate."

Which we did, and when the nurse prepped it, she said, "Gee, this wants to come out, already!"

With genuine surprise, the doc repeated her observation when he came in for the procedure.

Who is the patient: Me, or the bump? Or is it yet a third thing, something even more abstract, their opinion of the malady?

Or could it have been the fact that it was 4:30 on Thursday afternoon, and the dermo doesn't put in Fridays, anymore, so my little molehill was delaying the start of their weekend?

The Rolling Stones sang, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need."

You'd better try, and try hard, because if you don't, given today's customer service and client relations, you could very easily end up with neither.