Today, dear readers, I am going to relate to you another story told to me by my Father. For those of you who remember, my Father is a tradesman at a Grievously Mismanaged auto manufacturer.
Back when his plant was still running full production and had a three shift rotation, he overlapped with the night crew guy by about 10 minutes. The dude was unsavory, unkempt, and had a tendency to hit on anything with a pulse (and probably a few things without).
Think this guy, but more unsavory.
My Father wasn't a huge fan of the guy, but luckily he usually skipped out early so they rarely interacted face to face. This suited my father just fine, as he didn't really want to bump into captain lechery while on an illicit work-time romp with is less then desirable current fling: a line worker who almost matched him for unpleasantness.
Artist's rendering based on witness testimony.
Anyway, one day my Father makes it into work and checks in on the stack of maintenance orders (back in that day when they came on dead trees), to find an ambiguous one. All it stated was that "Line 12 needs a screw". Odd and undeveloped, sure, but my Father assumed that, being a large industrial machine with a number of fasteners, line 12 did, in fact, require a screw. On that logic, he headed off to investigate.
A short while later, he stomped his way into the break room, disgust written all over his face.
"What has you so bothered?" Asked one of his coworkers.
Instead of answering, my Father simply tossed the work order on the table in front of him. A few coworkers crowded around the table to read it.
"So, its a work order?"
"It was for the night shift guy," My Father replied. "His girlfriend works line 12 and didn't know he left early."
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