Log 9: Grease n’ Grime
Today marked my first day spent in the metal room. Mike, who seems to be the guy in charge of that area of the office, instructed me to assemble some metal frames for an exhibit. I was delighted to see that the tool I would be using for this task was the rivet gun (otherwise known as the slaughterhouse bolt gun) that I learned how to use last week with Robbie. “Ah, the rivet gun,” I said knowingly, grabbing a single rivet (which is basically a nail) out of one of the buckets adjacent to the work station. “That’s right,” Mike replied, sounding, dare I say, impressed? “And you grabbed the right rivet, too.” I turned to take another glance at the buckets by the table, and realized for the first time that they were filled with rivets of all different lengths and widths. I had picked out the right one completely by chance. I didn’t have the heart to tell Mike.
Assembling the frames in the metal room was a pretty good time - the guys were nice, music played on the radio, and I got to use the rivet gun. I just had one small qualm about the situation, which was that the metal room is quite… greasy. Just minutes after I started assembling my frames, I noticed a layer of black grime collecting on my palms. I couldn’t tell if it was from touching the pipes or the screws or the bolts, but every time I finished another frame, they got a little bit greasier. Even after I washed my hands thoroughly, a grey/black sheen remained. Incredibly, I seemed to be the only one in the metal room who considered this to be a cause for concern.
Perhaps one of the most notable events of the day was the arrival of Mike Baker, who has officially replaced me as Featherlite’s newest employee. To be fair, he definitely hasn't replaced me as the company’s least valuable employee, considering he’s a grown man with years of welding and shop experience, but I don’t make the rules on seniority. To be even more fair, though, Baker’s actually not new at all, because he used to work here a few years back, and everyone already knows him. But if we’re really going to split hairs, then I’d like to draw attention to the fact that I used to work here a few years back too, for a month during the summer of seventh grade.
After I introduced myself to Baker, a few minutes of silence passed before he asked, “How old are you?” “Twenty, as of yesterday,” I replied. “Another August birthday then, I’m on the 26th,” he told me. One thing that Virgos and us Leos have in common is that you don’t have to ask for our birthday - we will offer it unprompted almost immediately.
Highlight: Talking with Gary about archery and bowhunting, even though he repeatedly referred to me as “Tyler” throughout our conversation.
