StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Did Scarborough put him to sleep with his tired bullshit?

GRACE: [Long Rant Very Abridged] Why do I only meet gay boys?
YOUR DRIVER: Well, I picked you up at a gay bar, and I'm taking you to a gay bar... do I need to draw you a map here..?

Weird shit we were asked to fix at work this week:

1) Bobbin bearing for a 150 year old spinning wheel. The woman who owned it said she was very concerned about whether or not she could find someone to fix it, worse yet having to leave one of the maidens (yes, that's what the part is called) with us for sizing/fitting. On the other hand, when she walked in the door and I said "You brought an entire mother-of-all in here? Where's the rest of the wheel?" she said she felt a whole lot better, under the theory that if someone in the shop knew the proper name for the parts we might have a clue what the hell we were doing. Yes, we did and she was very happy with the result.

2) Tarp for a flatbed truck. Unfolded it occupied more area than the floor of our shop. Working with it requires some creative folding, sort of a cross between origami and applied topology. We haven't actually finished this one yet. You need one person to sew and one to hold/maneuver the tarp.

3) Conversion of ankle gun holster to thigh holster. Unfortunately for the customer, we were unable to do this.

4) swapping the beads on the toe of a shoe for rhinestones. Exactly 29 rhinestones for each shoe.

That almost sounds like a business I need to work at.

If only it paid a little more money I'd be a very happy person indeed.

Today's Unusual Repair: two horse halters. One blue one, with the name "Zoe" embroidered on the forehead strap. The other was purple and green. Actually, it was cannibalizing 4 damaged halters (two blue, one purple, one green) to make 2 useful ones.

Bah that's not unusual... I have 4 horses who can wreak that kind of havok and need gear replaced in the blink of an eye.



Last week:
*background is I've been crazy off the walls busy with paperwork that has had a noticeable impact on my job performance*
co-worker: "what's happening?"
me: "oh just busy getting my job application done"
cw: "oh? new job, where at?"
me: "here, my job"
cw: "?!?!? you've been here for years, why are you applying now?"
me" "I can't get (job) permanency because I wasn't employed correctly, so now I'm being employed correctly so I can get permanency"
cw: "and hows it going?"
me: "its ok, upshot, I get permanency and nothing changes, downside I don't and I lose my job to boot"

This has led to a lot of sarcasm on my part and a certain amount of mixed bemusement and horror from others. Government Education Department policy states anyone employed on contract for 2 consecutive years equivalent is to be moved to permanent staff. Five and a half years later and I'm still not permanent due to a very carefully worded piece of fine print that enables the department to not have to make 90% of it's contract employees permanent based around how we were initially employed.

Fingers crossed this all goes well.

Colleague (After receiving and 50th case that day back from our Indian team querying the same small procedure point) - "Arghhh! Why are offshore so dumb?"

Me - "Well they get paid on a number of cases basis so they send a case to us and we send it back they get paid twice for it plus if they query everything they get a paper trail of us telling them what to do so if something goes wrong they can point at us and say its all our fault."

Colleague - "Arghhh! Why are offshore so smart?"

We do a lot of workboots for tradesmen, mostly resoling but also sewing and patching. Recently, we had a gentleman come in and request "toe armor" for his boots. That's a sort of goop almost exactly like the roofing material for patching mobile homes that you paint onto the toes (or other severe wear areas) of workboots to provide extra protection. This shit is like roofing tar. Actually, it's like Satan took a shit in a bucket, but it sticks like roofing tar. SOP is to apply two coats and for most people it works just fine.

For this guy, it lasted two days.

Well, OK, sometimes that happens, it was the end of a tub of the stuff, we sanded off the remains and tried again.

Two days.

Complaint phone call - customer not happy, wants solution. Well, there's a hard plastic shell you can epoxy to the boot toe, but it's not big enough for him. Boss says bring the boots in, we'll figure out something (hence the origin of the alternate meaning of cobbler: "to improvise a solution", albeit the archaic form usually had the subtle shading of doing so poorly).

His father actually brings them in, and yes, the toes are entirely devoid of toe armor. AND he proudly announces he has mink oiled the living crap out of the leather uppers. He sure has - the boots look like they have a layer of lard on them. That is not, I emphasize, hyperbole. There is a visible layer of mink oil on the boots. Including the toes. To which we are supposed to adhere something.



The lack of adhesion is starting to make more sense...

Well, the most recent proposed solution is to cement a thin layer of sole material over the front of the toes. As it happens, this idea is not unique to the boss and in fact, in one of the many, many drawers in the supply room we have some pre-molded pieces of exactly that, for that express purpose.

Then the father requests we sew this in addition to cementing.

Now, even if we could maneuver this onto our industrial sewing machine it is doubtful that it could punch through the two layers of heavy duty leather comprising the toes AND the additional layer of heavy duty rubber, at least, not without breaking a needle. Our industrial stitching machine, which we use to sew soles on to footwear, could punch through it, but only sews around the edges of objects, you can't slide a shoe onto it and stitch away on the toes. I am expressing doubt about the sewing thing. I'm already dreading the prep work to get the grease off the toes so we can do anything with these boots.

Ah, yes - grease removal. We have some "color preparer" intended to strip wax/polish/finish/glaze from leather prior to dyeing it, which also does a decent job of stripping out the oils. It took several applications to do the job on the boots. Then it was off to the grinder to sand off the surface layer of the leather and remove and lingering residues. This was made more fun than usual because the goddamned boots were slippery. Several paper towels and a rub down later I try again. They're still slick, but at least now I can get a grip on them. Nope - not going to work. And the scent of burning mink grease is... >erk<...not my favorite.

Find sandpaper, sit down, sand the old fashioned way with the heel of the boot wedged between my own two feet for additional stability while gripping with one hand and sanding with the other. Move to workbench and paint toes with cement.

10 minutes later check tackiness of cement and have the damn shit adhere to my fingers and peel off the boots in a sheet.

De-grease/sand-sand-sand. Try cement again. OK, this time it sticks. Apply toe rubber and allow to cure. Test four hours later. Yes, it seems to be sticking. This time. For now.

As it turns out you CAN sew these rubber toe covers onto boot leather. By hand. By hand! With an awl and waxed linen thread and a LOT of sweating and swearing. To add additional insult to injury, the owner of these boots has small feet. Even after removing the insoles (leaving an abrasive interior underneath which is like sandpaper against bare skin) I could just barely get my hand inside to maneuver the thread on the inside so it would catch the awl. I have the smallest hands in the shop so guess who got to do THAT unpleasant chore...

Hours! I spent fucking hours punching that fucking awl through fucking rubber and double layer leather, over and over, which was only made more "fun" by the layer of cement joining those layers. BY HAND! BY HAND! And the bastards didn't even come in to pick up those goddamned boots. I really hope the boss charges them a fucking arm and a leg for that sort of handwork. Sure, we'll do it... but not for free. Or even cheap.

At least I had the bright idea of bandaging my inside hand BEFORE I entirely rubbed the skin off my knuckles.

I swear, someone else comes in with what looks like butter smeared all over their workboots I am showing them the door.

Called a customer today to ask a couple of clarifying questions related to fixing their problem. Couldn't even finish my first question before this asshole starts yelling at me and apparently I'm supposed to read his fucking mind and put up with abuse. So I told him to have a nice day and hung the fuck up on him while he was still going on. I don't have to put up with that shit from some asshole with a sense of entitlement just because he happens to work for a prestigious university. His line either gets fixed or it won't, but I really can't give a fuck. It's not as if I start insulting customers when I call them for information that is needed. I'm imposing on their time when I do so, so it's damn certain that it starts out very politely. How it ends is up to the customer.

It's amazing, I can't figure out what these idiots think they gain by being insulting and abusive. That just makes it certain that nobody does anything but the bare minimum, while if they conducted themselves with the regular courtesy expected in a normal situation, they'd get far better service.

World's Dumbest Meter-Maid: You need to move right now!
Your Driver: I was right about to, if you hadn't blocked me in...

It wasn't a private contractor doing the parking enforcement, was it?

Zaune wrote:It wasn't a private contractor doing the parking enforcement, was it?

I don't know or care how the city hires those stupid fucks, but I was pulled over on a public street (which I don't even have to do unless I'm feeling courteous, by the way - I'm allowed by local law to stop right in the middle of the fucking road to load a passenger for up to 90 seconds as long as I put my lights on).

Fair enough. I only mention it because of a rather amusing scandal from a few years back when a couple of London apparently outsourced parking-enforcement to the mob; there were stories of people getting their cars blocked in so a couple of heavies could demand the parking fine be paid on the spot with a thinly-veiled threat of bodily injury if it wasn't. Several prison sentences were handed out over it in the end.

Must've been bloody effective at keeping people from parking on the double yellow lines while it lasted, though.

Zaune wrote:Fair enough. I only mention it because of a rather amusing scandal from a few years back when a couple of London apparently outsourced parking-enforcement to the mob; there were stories of people getting their cars blocked in so a couple of heavies could demand the parking fine be paid on the spot with a thinly-veiled threat of bodily injury if it wasn't. Several prison sentences were handed out over it in the end.

Must've been bloody effective at keeping people from parking on the double yellow lines while it lasted, though.

That's a pretty accurate description of the mindset, if not the scope of authority, of the Denver parking enforcement staff.

Today at the office:

We're supposed to avoid creating duplicate customer accounts for the same customer for fairly obvious reasons.

*finds a duplicate customer account*

Me: "Yo!"
Coworker: "What's up?"
Me: "You had done a duplicate of this customer account?"
Coworker: "I had? I didn't find that info!"
Me: "Well, same number and all, so it should have shown up..."
Cowroker: "Maybe I accidentally put in a space somewhere..."
Me: "Let's see..."
*follows hunch*
There's an extra space in the relevant info on the first account, so it's not the coworker's fault.
Me: "Yeah, there's a space that caused the no match, in the old account. Some bonehead has fucked up. Let me check..."
*checks*
Me: "Erhm, it turns out the bonehead in question was me. Carry on and excuse me while I find the nearest convenient rock to hide under in shame..."
Coworker:

Briefly discussing alternate funds at work "It's banana stands all the way down."

Me: ....so in conclusion the new system is a step back and leaves a lot to be desired.
Boss: Is that it? Any other notes? Off the record?
Me: Do you really want me to tell you what I really feel?
Boss: Yes.
Me: Well, the new system is total BS and whoever came up with it and approved it needs to be fired. It adds a ton of extra work for no benefit, it's actually worse than that. It adds a ton of extra work, the end results are worse, and there's more points of failure where errors can get in. Pardon my language, but I'm sorry, it's a total fuckup.
Boss: Is it really that bad?
Me: Yes.
Boss: Awesome!
Me: Wha???
Boss: It's a joke son!

Red-Haired Vixen: So, I know it sounds terrible to say that I only fuck guys with wives and girlfriends, but really I only fuck guys with wives and girlfriends for good reasons. I mean, obviously there's something good about him if he's already got somebody, and I'd rather compete with one other woman than with every girl at the bar any day of the week.

Your Driver: ... I can't quite put my finger on why, but I'm feeling a sort of perverse admiration right now...

RHV: Thanks!

Me: Ok, if you want me to sign this Death Certificate, you need to bring it in with all the info filled in (points to several blanks)
Funeral Home Director: Oh, let me go out to the car, I'll get that for you.

(10min pass)

FHD: Here you go, sorry about that. I didn't fill it out (insert rambling expaination about how it's not HIS fault things were left off the certificate)
Me: OK, if you want to wait about 15min I can sign it and make the copies now.
FHD: No, I'll come back for it, I have to go to the Cremetory.
Me: Picking up cremains?
FHD: No, dropping off. I got to get the client down there now.
Me, starts laughing, totally thrown by the idea he'd had a body in the van this entire time.


Sometimes I forget how blaise FHD are about transporting bodies.

DISPATCHES FROM THE FRONT LINES, 24 JAN 13:

You wouldn't believe the bullfuckery that went on last night. To start off, before I went to bed I checked the board in case we had an early go. Which we did have, and so did everybody else. So pretty much all the night shifters got up early, and guess what, all the ops had either cancelled or rolled right. My poor roommate had to get up an hour earlier than I did, when I came in I found him in ops sleeping on a couch. So then we brief up a new op, which cancels. Then we get another, which cancels. Then we get another, which we end up flying. It was an hour away and a complete dick dance. Most of the ground team is composed of Afghan national police (not unusual now a days, most missions involve training Afghans). So they walk a quick distance from their base to this target building, set up their cordon, and go in. Well, not too long after going in an old woman starts yelling and then runs up to one of the Afghans and tries to grab his rifle. Before anyone knows it, one policeman has shot himself in the foot, another shot another policemen in the arm and leg, an innocent bystander has been shot, the old woman has been shot and is expectant, and there are several dozen policemen running out of the target building like a bunch of wet cats. This is the war we live in. And these illiterate shitbrains are somehow suppose to take over and keep the Taliban at bay after we pull out. Seriously, so far this deployment the Afghans we've supported have shot more of themselves than the Taliban. And Karzai somehow believes that they need an Air Force, not just of helos and transports, but of actual fires assets. So instead of shooting each other one at a time every time they see a shadow, their illiterate shitbrain pilots will take out entire ground teams at once... I digress.

Also, since we missed midnight chow, I had an MRE for 'lunch'. It contained a beef patty packet and a packet of mexican macaroni and cheese, which the eng was nice enough to put in the oven for me. He left it in a little too long, and it came out at a temp somewhere between magma and lava. Oh, and the beef packet had a small leak, which I found out the hard way when a stream of scalding hot beef broth leaked all onto my leg. Luckily I didn't get burned too bad, but I did smell like cow for the rest of the night. FML.

Front Desk Girl: Is it [ie: the cab I'm trying to give you right now] clean?

Your Driver: Actually, it's fucking disgusting. It looks like the last driver ashed his cigarettes and ate KFC in the front seat every day for a year. I'm only taking it because it's the only thing on the lot that runs.

FDG: Did you taste it?

YD: What?

FDG: How do you know it was KFC if you didn't taste it?

~~~~~~~

My Favorite Mechanic: Back window ad comes off today!

Your Driver: Finally! I can't see for shit out that thing!

MFM: Shiiit, I backed one cab into another cab just last week! That might be why they're coming off, actually.

YD: ...let me give you a few bucks extra...

Producer: "I just got off the phone with our Navy contact, and he says we'll have their full cooperation! Score!"

Me: "That's great. But based upon previous work done with the Navy, I'm gonna go out on a limb and tell you that to -them-, 'full cooperation' means 'if the asset in which you're interested happens to be down for whatever reason and if there's no safety or security issue and if it suits us for that asset to be at a facility anywhere near you, for which we can clear your team for access, and you don't hope to be there any longer than works for us and bear in mind that we are a naval military force and not a scene dock created for your convenience...

...we'll see what we can do."

In short, a bureaucrat promised full support, but the actual people on the ground are not so unconditional.

This is the way thwe world works.

Once one -gets- to the people on the ground - well, the people afloat, really - they're as accommodating as accommodating can be. It's the layer of bureaucracy where the fuzz comes in.