Beachball part1

I was thinking a bit about my reluctant acceptance of people who have authority over me. That is not to say I always work well with bosses and such; but until the balance of power changes, I’m a very patient guy. Usually that patience is rewarded with time.

When I was 26, I went to work for a large energy company. I had, in fact, worked there off and on as a contractor, so this was not much of a change, other than being a direct employee for the client.

There are many fun stories around being a contractor, but we will save those for future ramblings.

When you first start out in the working world, you are pretty well limited to believing your boss is the center of your universe. He controls your future and your time. He represents the one person who can make life good or just plain bizarre.

My new supervisor was an icon of sorts. This assumes that there is an icon for ‘overbearing, short, fat men’ who have nothing better to do than punish people for their apparent miserable little life.

The “boss”, was a retired Marine and tended to run everything in his life in this regard. It was rumored that at his home, he would put on a white golf shirt and inspect his wife’s dusting skills. He often brought this style to the work place.

He loved to intimidate and threaten his way through the work place. His peers and workers did not think of him fondly.

One of the duties you could be assigned was the ‘manning’ of the tool trailer during plant shutdowns. The tool trailer is a converted semi trailer that was fitted with ‘binfuls’ of tools and supplies for the real workers. My boss told me that we were more like a ‘jock strap’ and were there just for support. (A sweaty thought that lingered for years.)

I had somehow gotten on the bad side of the boss and was assigned to tool trailer duty on night shift. I was also teamed with a contractor who was a retired friend of the boss. A fact I was unaware of until later, after I had made some rather off color comments about the boss.

So into work I head for my night shift and waiting for me is the boss. He tells me that he has inspected the tool trailer, and it is filthy. He is holding me solely responsible for the cleaning of said trailer and will be in early the next morning to inspect the neatness of the trailer. Visions of white gloves flash through my brain.

I’m not always sure why I do what I do. I often wonder if there is an important feature of rational thinking that simply checks outs at moments like this in my life.

After arriving at my worksite, I inspected the trailer for dirt and so on. Looked ok to me, considering it is sitting in the middle of an oil refinery and the trailer is about twenty years old.

But he said to ‘get it clean’. The term “Vicious Compliance” jumps to mind here. This would be… you do exactly what you were instructed to do in spite of the fact you know it is lunacy and will probably not reflect well on your boss in the long run.

Upon inspection of the trailer, I noted there was large vent opening on one end of the trailer. It was one that could easily be pried open to accommodate a water source for cleaning. And it would go a along way toward doing some Serious Cleaning. On the other end of the trailer were two swinging doors that also opened if need be.

I gave a broom to my co-worker, the retired buddy of the boss. I grabbed a large container of detergent we called Rid-All (actually years later I realized this was more of a ‘eat through metal and skin caustic’ than let’s say a 409 Spray) and spread it on the floor of the trailer.

I told my co-worker that I would find a source of water to help wash away some of the dirt, and he should merely sweep away to help the process. I then opened the two swinging doors to give water a place to exit the trailer.

I discovered a source of water that I could introduce through the vent on the other end of the trailer.

It should be noted here, that there are several sources of water to be had in a refinery. Most commonly used, of course, would be utility water, where the hose is roughly the size of a garden hose. It is not the most powerful of streams in regards to pressure, but would clearly have worked well for the job at hand.

I opted to use another source.

Right next to the trailer was a fire hydrant and hooked to it was a nice length of 1 ½” fire hose. I wired the nozzle to the vent and cranked open the hydrant.

Later a friend of mine told me, he was driving by said trailer, and it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. All he saw was a torrent of water shooting out of the end of the trailer. Wrenches and assorted parts were flying out 20 feet onto the pavement. And in the trailer he could see an “old guy” sweeping for his life, while trying to keep from being swept away himself.

Somehow my boss was not happy, but I thought the trailer, and his buddy, looked very clean.

Try to please some people….