Day 284 of 365: Ethics
I had a decision to make this morning. One I wasn’t all to eager to make. It was my day off, and to be perfectly honest I wasn’t exactly feeling like myself when the alarm sounded. Despite yesterday being something of a rather “ho hum” sort of work day, fallowed by an agreeably pleasant sit down in front of the television for an “at last, lets tip cans and make loud wall reverberating, neighbor annoy, acknowledgments, in response to the return of our beloved sport!” viewing of the “Shoot out”, I’d still awoken this morning feeling as though I’d been kicked in the back by a mule. And for some God awful reason congested sinuses have been giving me fits in the form of headaches the size of some small third world countries the past few day. Why? I have no idea. I just know I wasn’t feeling good when I finally rooted myself from my bed.
A few days earlier I’d cut on a set of wheels. A set of nasty lil buggers, that like much of what I work on had not received the attention or care of polishing since the day they’d been produced. Some decrepit 22.5 machined AKW’s slatted for a local spread axle trailer. I had not been happy with the original cut. My sander is shot, and I’ve had the owner of the wheels on stand by for weeks while I try to scrounge up the coin to purchase a new "chew it down" tool. Originally I’d had it in my head that a few of the other larger jobs I'd had lined up would pay for the new sander, but as time passed by, one by one. Other larger jobs began to either reschedule or out right vanish.
I had the wheels. I’ve had the wheels for a very, very, long time. And the owner was getting understandably anxious. It was time to take action. But I did not have the equipment I needed to make it happen. My Response? I first tried to rebuild my sander myself. And actually, to a small degree, I’d been successful. While it produced a sound that in my mind must have largely resembled the approach of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, it worked. And whether or not it sounded good, work was all I needed it to do.
So I thought.
Come the fallowing evening after I’d finished my shift in the wash bays, I’d moved over to the detail bay, and the long awaited unshinney sort (that being the aforementioned wheels). and a very uncooperative sander. When I went to work on the wheels, the only response my rebuilt and worn out sander gave me was something that resembled the long drawn out death rattle of a man dying of terminal flatulence.
“Sssssssssssssssssssssssss.”
Seized up again.
As one might imagine, my response had been one of a very mature and adult like masculine sort. I first cursed the worn rotary pneumatic with every single syllable abusive adverb I could think of, even making a few up all of my own, and then chucked it across the bay like the first pitch of the world series.
Apparently that was all it needed. After pacing the front of the building for a good five minutes, hot boxing a camel or two, and asking the almighty just why it was he felt it necessary to taunt me this way, I returned to the bay, and recovered the busted old Husky sander…Minus one small bolt that had jarred loose during the fit.
For the life of me I have no idea what purpose that bolt served. I’d originally plugged the sander back into the air line half expecting it to explode. Not only did it not explode, it ran and sounded exactly like it had the first day I’d used it…Minus the warn out sand pad. It was enough to get the job done. But only to a point, and that leads us to today.
I’ve had the last few days to look back over my work, and scowl with disgust. I wasn’t happy with how they’d originally turned out. Half expecting the sander to give out I’d made it something of a rush job, and with the owner of the wheels out of town, I’ve had plenty of time to look back over them. Even at $35 a pop…they looked like crap.
That finally leads us back to this morning. I’ve had three days to look at those wheels, and grind my teeth. Forgetting reputation, forgetting warn out pneumatic sanders, forgetting the fact that when it’s all said and done, I will not only fail to turn a profit, but will in fact take a lose, this morning I had a decision to make. Do I take the day off? A chance to rest, relax, reenergize and vitalize. Or. Do I go back in and re-cut those wheels?…I chose plan B. Not because the driver has been waiting (and very patiently I might add) for a ridiculously long amount of time for his wheels. Not because my sander is finally functioning (at least to a degree) like it should. Not because I want to get paid, or that I was worried my peers will heckle me if I don’t. I went back in and re-cut them because like it or not. I have something of an issue with ethics.
And at times….It is very frustrating.
I’d made plans to hang up the ole polishing gloves earlier this year. Seems a leopards spots really never change, because here I am still at it. And whether I like it or not, I know why.
I’m a very lazy human. No, really. I am. Just consider my plot in life.
I barely eked my way through the first twelve years of school. I never moved on to higher education, I never really branched out and tried something new. I just did what I knew how to do, and that was about it. Since then I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life pretending that the position of truck wash bay foreman was something important. And I’ve continued cutting aluminum because I’m good at it and I really don‘t know how to do much else.
I have enthusiasm. Bad people skills, but I do have enthusiasm. I have gumption. I have drive, I have integrity, self preservation, and like it or not I have ethics.
All of it wasted. Because I am lazy.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=18pelixcmvQ
Sunday, February 8th. 2009
Day 284 of 365: Ethics
I had a decision to make this morning. One I wasn’t all to eager to make. It was my day off, and to be perfectly honest I wasn’t exactly feeling like myself when the alarm sounded. Despite yesterday being something of a rather “ho hum” sort of work day, fallowed by an agreeably pleasant sit down in front of the television for an “at last, lets tip cans and make loud wall reverberating, neighbor annoy, acknowledgments, in response to the return of our beloved sport!” viewing of the “Shoot out”, I’d still awoken this morning feeling as though I’d been kicked in the back by a mule. And for some God awful reason congested sinuses have been giving me fits in the form of headaches the size of some small third world countries the past few day. Why? I have no idea. I just know I wasn’t feeling good when I finally rooted myself from my bed.
A few days earlier I’d cut on a set of wheels. A set of nasty lil buggers, that like much of what I work on had not received the attention or care of polishing since the day they’d been produced. Some decrepit 22.5 machined AKW’s slatted for a local spread axle trailer. I had not been happy with the original cut. My sander is shot, and I’ve had the owner of the wheels on stand by for weeks while I try to scrounge up the coin to purchase a new "chew it down" tool. Originally I’d had it in my head that a few of the other larger jobs I'd had lined up would pay for the new sander, but as time passed by, one by one. Other larger jobs began to either reschedule or out right vanish.
I had the wheels. I’ve had the wheels for a very, very, long time. And the owner was getting understandably anxious. It was time to take action. But I did not have the equipment I needed to make it happen. My Response? I first tried to rebuild my sander myself. And actually, to a small degree, I’d been successful. While it produced a sound that in my mind must have largely resembled the approach of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, it worked. And whether or not it sounded good, work was all I needed it to do.
So I thought.
Come the fallowing evening after I’d finished my shift in the wash bays, I’d moved over to the detail bay, and the long awaited unshinney sort (that being the aforementioned wheels). and a very uncooperative sander. When I went to work on the wheels, the only response my rebuilt and worn out sander gave me was something that resembled the long drawn out death rattle of a man dying of terminal flatulence.
“Sssssssssssssssssssssssss.”
Seized up again.
As one might imagine, my response had been one of a very mature and adult like masculine sort. I first cursed the worn rotary pneumatic with every single syllable abusive adverb I could think of, even making a few up all of my own, and then chucked it across the bay like the first pitch of the world series.
Apparently that was all it needed. After pacing the front of the building for a good five minutes, hot boxing a camel or two, and asking the almighty just why it was he felt it necessary to taunt me this way, I returned to the bay, and recovered the busted old Husky sander…Minus one small bolt that had jarred loose during the fit.
For the life of me I have no idea what purpose that bolt served. I’d originally plugged the sander back into the air line half expecting it to explode. Not only did it not explode, it ran and sounded exactly like it had the first day I’d used it…Minus the warn out sand pad. It was enough to get the job done. But only to a point, and that leads us to today.
I’ve had the last few days to look back over my work, and scowl with disgust. I wasn’t happy with how they’d originally turned out. Half expecting the sander to give out I’d made it something of a rush job, and with the owner of the wheels out of town, I’ve had plenty of time to look back over them. Even at $35 a pop…they looked like crap.
That finally leads us back to this morning. I’ve had three days to look at those wheels, and grind my teeth. Forgetting reputation, forgetting warn out pneumatic sanders, forgetting the fact that when it’s all said and done, I will not only fail to turn a profit, but will in fact take a lose, this morning I had a decision to make. Do I take the day off? A chance to rest, relax, reenergize and vitalize. Or. Do I go back in and re-cut those wheels?…I chose plan B. Not because the driver has been waiting (and very patiently I might add) for a ridiculously long amount of time for his wheels. Not because my sander is finally functioning (at least to a degree) like it should. Not because I want to get paid, or that I was worried my peers will heckle me if I don’t. I went back in and re-cut them because like it or not. I have something of an issue with ethics.
And at times….It is very frustrating.
I’d made plans to hang up the ole polishing gloves earlier this year. Seems a leopards spots really never change, because here I am still at it. And whether I like it or not, I know why.
I’m a very lazy human. No, really. I am. Just consider my plot in life.
I barely eked my way through the first twelve years of school. I never moved on to higher education, I never really branched out and tried something new. I just did what I knew how to do, and that was about it. Since then I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life pretending that the position of truck wash bay foreman was something important. And I’ve continued cutting aluminum because I’m good at it and I really don‘t know how to do much else.
I have enthusiasm. Bad people skills, but I do have enthusiasm. I have gumption. I have drive, I have integrity, self preservation, and like it or not I have ethics.
All of it wasted. Because I am lazy.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=18pelixcmvQ
Sunday, February 8th. 2009