Rookie Requests

(Editors note: This column is printed using a half-inch offset wrench for column alignment).

It’s not easy being a rookie on a job site. Especially one that is as disorganized as this one.

In just three hours I had been asked for all sorts of things, none of which could be found let alone used by the people who needed them.

I first went hunting for a 6x9 inch hole saw. No luck – looked everywhere. There were no muffler bearings in the tool shed either. Same with the diesel spark plugs. I hunted for the soft-nose chisel, pre-fabricated post holes, and the spark bucket for the welders. Nada.

The truck needed blinker fluid according to the mechanic, and I hadn’t even gotten around to the piston return spring.

I was starting to get frustrated. The boss was going to kill me, I thought.

Someone must have misplaced the wire stretcher and lamp cutter. The mechanic needed a camshaft rotational dampener, and I never did find the reciprocating dingle arm for the framulator.

I used to think I was pretty handy with tools but this was a whole new world to me. It went on and on.

Striped paint, a carton of hinge bind, the light bulb repair kit, the sky hook, bubble level oil, a brass magnet, lightning bolts. This was a busy place and the guys were starting to lose patience with me. The boss was starting to get mad too – telling me to find these items or they would take all this wasted time off my first cheque. Yikes!

He told me to head up to the roof and look around for tomorrow’s newspaper and the four foot yardstick.

Later, I had to go to the airport for a bucket of prop wash and a box of grid squares. That was interesting because I was halfway there when the boss called again, cancelled that run, and sent me off to buy an air filter bypass kit. No one had any of those either, I discovered.

This was not good. When you start a new job you’ve got to do what the boss says if you’re going to get anywhere. You’ve got to be sharp and work hard. I was keen and I was trying – but that’s about all you could say.

Back at the shop I was putting fresh air in the tires (important in winter, according to the mechanic) when my radio crackled and the foreman told me to forget about the long weight and double sided transparencies and go pick up a box of mahogany welding rods and some stanchion remover. If they “had some phallopian tubes and frequency grease then put that on the purchase order as well,” he said. My notebook was getting full.

Off I went. In what was turning out to be a wildly unsuccessful day, I couldn’t find any of this stuff. I was getting frustrated, although the people I dealt with at the suppliers seemed friendly enough. They were always smiling – which was nice.

Then inspiration struck and I stepped on the gas. Back at the site I marched into the bosses’ office and started dropping tools on his desk.

“Left handed screwdriver, some flight line from the airport, your Kenuter valve to drive a Johnson rod, glass hammer, box of enthusiasm and elbow grease, keys to the basement of this one storey building, and the snow tires for the wheel barrows! Does that about cover it?” I said, righteously.

He laughed. “Good job Crawford. You’ve done well. Come back tomorrow with a heavy duty clutch belt and you can get started in the office, once you blow out the telephone lines...”

They never let up in this business...

Inventions

I am always coming up with quite bright ideas for products which, in my opinion, will sell extremely well. To people like me.

Let's start with a small tracking device for library books. Specifically, the one I have been scouring the house for these last 20 minutes.

What we could use is a small chip implanted in every book, so that when I activate the base transmitter, the chip will emit a loud whistle, buzz, ring or honk, and the book can be found under the pile of laundry in my daughters room. Or in the yard out back. Or under the drivers seat in my car.

This search technique is well known to losers of cell phones, or at least, losers of cell phones which happen to be turned on at the time of losure. Lossure. When you lost it. I just made up those words. Huh.

Parents would buy these things like crazy, since losing books and gazillions of other items seems to be childrens full time occupation. Mine especially.

One could also use these tracking devices for children themselves, remote controls, beer, ties, errant odd socks, tools, dogs, cuff links, those important documents you swear were here on the desk, and so forth.

Would someone please fund this startup such that I can get going with production and marketing? Thanks.

Incidentally, it's So You Want To Be A Pilot. It's blue with a female fighter pilot on the front. The book I'm looking for. Let me know if you find it. Thanks. Overdue.

Tool Drool

My son’s Cub Scout troop was paying a visit to a cabinet makers shop the other day.

It was pretty amazing and I remember most of it even though I lost consciousness after walking through the front door. I’m not sure if it was the sound of choirs singing in my head that did it, or if it was the blinding white, halo-like glow emanating from each blessed tool.

It was…spectacular.

It was the…Garage Mahal.

As I looked around I saw little animated stars go “Ting!” off of all the shiny, new, undusty surfaces.

It was a huge shop, well lit, equipped with an amazing variety of tools, and it had radiant heat and dust extraction tubing built into the concrete floor! (Most tool guys reading that sentence just fainted).

Now this may not sound like a big deal, but there was also a two-bladed table saw with a computerized, robotic fence! (The fainted tool guy bodies laying behind you just started twitching because of that information).

Naturally we had lots of questions on the tour.

“Do you know how to actually work all these tools mister?” someone asked.

“Yes – I use them every day” said the carpenter.

“So, do you know what the really little lines are on a tape measure and everything?” another asked.

“Yes – and I know how to use them too” he said.

“Wooooow.”

Then we let the kids ask some questions.

“I see you’re using a three-phase pre-framulation unit on your dingle-arm reciprocator, does it work as well as the 4 phase synchro-mizer?”

I made a mental note to smack that kid. When we got home.

“Do you ever use swear words when you’re building stuff like Dad does?” another smart-aleck kid asked.

“My Dad marks his lumber with a crayon and he uses a housewife apron in his shop” said another.

The men all pointed and laughed at that father.

“Heh heh that was pretty funny yes sir oh boy am I gonna get him when we get home” I said under my breath, smiling proudly.

OK so I’m not the handiest of guys when it comes to tools. Big deal. That does not mean I can’t envy another mans table saw, or check out the angles on his cordless 18 volt tool package.

I’ve analysed the visceral appeal of tools to guys (not too much mind you) and I figure men like tools because they enjoy flirting with danger. Knowing how quickly your money (or digits) can disappear while operating these babies gives them a certain appeal, like fast cars and breathing women.

In fact, I think it is perfectly normal for a man to sneak down to his workshop at night and softly caress the gentle curves of his drill press, to drink in the perfume of his off-cut lumber, or shudder in anticipation of using his 10 inch sliding compound mitre saw.

“Dad! Wake up! You were moaning and twitching again and the show’s almost over.”

“I’m sorry son – I must have drifted off” I said.

“You do that all the time. I think I’m old enough to watch Mike Holmes by myself don’t you think?”

“We’ll talk about it son.” I said.

“Here’s a Kleenex for the drool on your chin too Dad. Now just run along to bed, OK?”

“OK son” I said, sleepily.

They grow up so fast don’t they?