The maintenance was only supposed to last for three weeks and they were already at the end of the second. Today, Thursday, the tools and parts that the customer had ordered decided to go through clearance and finally be transferred to the hangar.

“Are you going to be on off this weekend, or are you coming?”

Fidalgo looked at the short brown-blonde haired man across from him.

“I need to see the schedule that Mark made,” he replied. “Are you coming?”

“Maybe so. We have to do lots of things. Another day in paradise” Ruben ran his hand through his short hair. “Every time we don’t have the parts on time and every time we run at the last minute,” he waved his hands in the air. “Aaron still hasn’t finished with the waste tanks. There are some seals missing. Evi says she ordered them a while ago, you know.”

“So?” Fidalgo said and took a sip from his watery coffee from the machine. “You don’t believe her?”

“I didn’t say that Fidalgo. It’s not her fault. All this disorganization. The same shit every time. And when…”

A man entered the kitchen and Ruben interrupted the sentence he was about to say. The man moved to the coffee machine and pressed a button. Within a few minutes, the room was filled with the smell of vegetable soup.

“How do you drink this stuff?” Ruben exclaimed loudly.

The young man stepped back with the paper cup in one hand, opened one of the blue plastic chairs with iron legs that was next to Fidalgo, and sat down. “It’s actually nice.”

“Bruno thinks everything is nice,” Fidalgo smiled and put his hand playfully on Bruno’s nape. “But he’s still young, that’s why.”

“Bruno thinks everything in Belgium is nice, because his girlfriend is Belgian,” Ruben replied.

“That’s not true!” Bruno complained. “I just like the ‘groente’* soup. And the tomato soup. And the pumpkin soup,” he put his hand to his chin and stroked his light beard. “And the mushroom soup and the onion soup…”

“We understand,” Fidalgo took his hand from the little boy’s neck and released him. “You don’t have to mention all the soups.”

“Basically, he likes all the soups, in a nutshell,” Ruben said.

Fidalgo smiled.

Being an aircraft engineer was a nice thing. Fidalgo liked his job. It made him happy. He certainly made a lot of money as a contractor—at least much more than he had made in Portugal for so many years. He left his homeland several times. He would return there for vacation, Christmas, summer. Then he was at work all year round and going home on his off days, if that was possible and he was not 'on call'. And in this job you always had something to learn. Being an aircraft engineer meant to never stop evolving. And it certainly wasn’t a job for everyone. People who simply don't want to study after school and while they grow up, certainly wouldn't do for this job.

But being an engineer at Street was sometimes tiring. Even though the environment was good and they had a good team and several Portuguese compatriots of his, Fidalgo sometimes got tired. Everyone got tired.

There were days when it was extremely busy. Everyone took a break for lunch and that was it, until they left. Many also worked overtime, or even worked the afternoon shift. Very few people usually worked the evening shift, in this MRO**. There were still days when they could take some breaks. These were the normal days, the ones that were as rare as the sun in Belgium. And there were also the days when they came to work and just sat there. Those were the worst. Due to the lack of organization, they always had issues and backlogs. And if they didn’t have a part or a tool, they couldn’t work. And not only were those days boring, they were mentally exhausting.

Today, this day belonged to the second category, even though there was no sun in Belgium today, only wind and gloom.

“Oh, Carlos will come this weekend, I heard,” said Ruben.

“Yes,” Bruno replied and glanced at his vegetable soup. He wondered if it was still burning that much or if he should make the effort to taste it without burning his tongue. “I didn’t hear it. I just saw it on the schedule that’s stuck to the wall.”

Fidalgo raised one eyebrow slightly. “And why would he come on the weekend? I don’t think he’ll have anything to do.”

Bruno shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he has to complete some tasks on the weekend.”

“Maybe Mark asked him to come. He’s the manager anyway,” Ruben spoke his mind.

Fidalgo raised his shoulders. Who knew what their manager was thinking?

A woman came into the kitchen. Her brown hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing a pale burgundy suit. She didn’t speak to them. Fidalgo had seen her before. She was from Business Control.

“Let’s get started,” he said, and stood up from his chair. The other two stood up with him.

“Do you have any plans for this weekend, Fidalgo?” Bruno said and smiled.

Ruben opened the dirty white door, which led from the offices to the hangar, with the aircraft outside, and let the other two through first.

“Yes,” Fidalgo replied, nodding his head to thank Ruben for the door, as a gesture. "My girlfriend will come visit."

*groente : vegetable in Dutch/Flemish.

**MRO : Maintenance and Repair Organization (MRO) in aviation refers to a company or facility that carries out maintenance, repair, and overhaul (MRO) work on aircraft, aircraft components, engines, and other aviation equipment (sourve Termaviation).