Treating Heat

I post a lot about jobs I've had. Here's another that I thought of as I was posting (sort of) about Triumph last week.

I got hired to work in heat treating factory one summer in college. Basically, I took springs and loaded them into large ovens to cook at a given temperature until a certain time had passed. That was it. As a result, I had a lot of down-time since there were only two ovens and some recipes called for over 2 hours of cooking.

Right out of the gate, I became one of their most valued employees. I don't know, maybe it was because I actually worked when I was there. It seemed many others didn't. Onc group of Einsteins got fired for racing fork lifts and destroying a $15,000 spring machine. Others took 4 beer lunches like the guy that worked in the room next to me who was in his mid 50's and made less money than I did at 19.

Yeah. He was an angry guy. My first day, just to make conversation, I asked him where he went for lunch. He replied, "To the Copper Penny pub for a few beers. Who the fuck wants to know?" I think he thought I was a company spy or something. I was so naive it never occured to me someone would drink during their lunch hour. I'm guessing maybe that's why the med school thing didn't pan out for him.

A few days later my boss walked in my little room and I had it all cleaned up. I perfectly organized and labeled all the bins of excess springs, I meticulously swept every ounce of dust and cleared away cobwebs from the corners and went so far as to create a "desk" out of some heavy cardboard, pallets and crates. It wasn't because I was super-employee but I was just bored sitting around all the time. While cleaning I found a Penthouse magazine which was a big score for a 19 year old in the pre-internet era. There might have been some pictures in it, who could really tell, but it definitely had some really, really cool black and white artwork in a particular section. I'm serious. You can only look at pictures for so long; that is if I was so inclined.

One particular piece, which honestly would be a cheesy velvet painting, I fell in love with and spent a week reproducing it on some card-stock with only number 2 pencils. It took a long time but when it was done, I thought it came out great. I hung it for that summer and bathed in the accolades of visitors to my room. I made sure to take it with me when I left. I was really, really proud of it and wish I had it to this day, but I gave it away to a girlfriend. Stupid me.

Another thing I did was decorate my huge cardboard desk. I would write out what I thought at the time were cool song lyrics, spontaneous artwork and even a few album covers (remember those?). Aerosmith and Skynyrd are two that come to mind. First in pencil, then I would detail it all out in whatever colored pens I could scrounge up in that old factory. By summer's end I probably had 15 different songs plus some miscellaneous art (including a rather intricate ivy border) and the album covers. I can only imagine how my replacement in September thought about things. I know my boss thought it was cool as he commented on it and he was crazy about how neat I kept the place (I always hated how grungy factories were -- and I never understood why they had to be so). He let me do whatever I wanted since I always hustled and got my work done, even staying late when necessary (something none of my predecessors would do apparently).

I've always been told I have artistic ability and an "eye" and I believe I do. But you know what? It bores me. To sit and draw, or paint, or mold for hours on end to me is totally boring, even if I'm pretty good at it. Waste of talent? Probably. I guess I wish I could transfer it to someone with the passion.

Out of the song lyrics, I only remember one that I did which is a Triumph song I haven't heard in ages, but if my memory serves me it goes like this:

Look in the mirror;
Tell me what do you see?
Do you lie to yourself
Like your lying to me?
Do you like awake angry
To justify your life?
Or do you wake up feeling empty
In the middle of the night?
You wanna think you're special but you know you never can
You're just another ordinary man.

The song goes on and on but that's what I remember and at that time I thought it was the coolest passage and so deep in thought. It didn't hurt that Rik Emmet rips the shit out of his guitar later either. After all these years, I see it's not the work of genius I originally thought, but having said that, I still know the lyrics.

Then again, I know my lines from a 4th grade play still: Perhaps you are right Senior Watson, but just one moment........

I was a Mexican ambassador in a history play. I was the only kid who could do a Mexican accent. I think, at times, my brain is wasting way too much space with stuff I can't use anymore.