Not the Right Shop

After I had been working for one shop for a number of years, I was laid off.  Another shop hired me and it was at this time that I was assigned a partner who was the real sharp electrician I spoke of previously.

One morning I was, as usual, running late.  I hurriedly parked my car and headed for the employee’s entrance and slipped in.  There was the boss and all his men.  As usual they were standing around listening to him – and they were also all staring at me.

The real problem was, it was the wrong boss, … the wrong men, … the wrong shop.  My car had mistakenly made its way to my previous employer.

I stopped dead in my tracks with my hand on the door knob and stared back at them.  I blurted out; “Oh! No!  I’m at the wrong shop.”

Immediately I turned and left and heard the whole bunch of them burst into laughter as I walked to my vehicle.

The new shop was run by a man  who was difficult to work for.  He had the practice of calling all the men in for conference and then choosing one employee to pick on.  He would tell him all the things he had done wrong in the last few months, in front of all the rest of the men.  Then he would dismiss us to go to our respective jobs.

After the first time I saw this happen, my partner said that the owner did this all the time.  He said that my time was coming.  I told him; “If he ever did that to me I’m going to walk right out.”

So of course my time did come.  As soon as he started on me I walked away, picked up my tools and headed for the door.  He quickly dismissed the other men and met me there.

He said; “I didn’t mean for you to quit.”

I replied: “If you can’t make a profit on my work, it is no use for me to work for you.”

He told me that they really needed me so I consented to remain, but I told him: “I’ll work for you but don’t ever do that to me again.”

My partner said to me: “Nobody has ever stood up to him before.”

Some people never learn.  On another day he started in on me again and I walked out.

I only saw him one more time.  He was advertising over the radio for help.  He came to my home and visited a little while, but didn’t have the guts to ask me to come work for him again.

I wondered if I would ever find the right shop.

Adrian’s Blog

On The Boss’ Time

One shop I worked for in Montana had four men that had worked for the owner for years.  He had trained them from the start.  Each man had a company vehicle that he drove for the shop.  They had their boss figured out well.

The first guy I went with stopped and paid his monthly bills at four or five places before we got to the job.  It would be noon before we arrived at the job.

The next day I was sent with another man.  The job was out of town about 30 miles.  (Thirty miles wasn’t a great deal of time in Montana when the speed limit was not generally enforced.)  This guy never ate breakfast at home, so we would stop at a little café before we left town and I would wait while he ate breakfast.  By the time we arrived at the job site it was time for the morning coffee break.

A few days later I was sent with man number 3.  He was better – usually arriving at the job site only about an hour and a half late.  I don’t remember his ritual for wasting time.

The first time I was sent out with the fourth guy it was a cold one, and we were doing work on street lighting.  For a time we drove around the streets looking at the job.  Then we stopped in a small shop for coffee break and to warm up.  Right then, in walked The Boss.  Boy was that fellow nervous when The Boss walked in.

The Boss contributed to this general air of lack of accountability in time use.  Every morning he would call us all together and each man would go over what he had done the day before.  In detail.  In GREAT detail.  – Ex:  “Well, I got to the job site and I nailed on two boxes.  Then I ran some #12 to one box.  Then I ran some #12 to the other box.  Then I went to get some devices…..”   The Boss would then outline that man’s job for the day.  – Ex: “When you get there I want you to nail on two boxes.  Then run some #12 to one box.  Then run some #12 to the other box.  Then go get your devices…..”  When everyone was done he would dismiss us to go to work.

One day I was sent to go on a job all by myself.  I was determined that I would not waste any time.  I asked the Boss which truck I should use, grabbed the keys and a roll of wire along with a 40 foot extension ladder.  I was gone while he was still talking to the other men.

I drove the few blocks to the job site, walked into the back yard, and looked over the job.  (It took about 5 minutes.)  I got the ladder and put it up to the building and was half way up when the Boss walked around the corner.

I looked down at him and said; “I hope I have the right place.”

He never said a word, just turned around and left.  I guess the new guy couldn’t be trusted.

Because I was the last one hired, I was the first one fired when the slow time hit the company.

That seemed to be a general policy among shop owners.

Shut It Off!  Shut It Off!

One of the men I worked with did everything at 100 miles per hour.  He was really a sharp electrician.  When he would check out what was wrong with a furnace or other piece of equipment, he would grab a piece of #12 wire, strip the ends, jumper out (if you are an electrician you know what this means) and check out the valves, switches, motors, controls, etc., and in a few seconds he would say “the trouble is right there.”  He was invariably correct.

He could also be quite impatient with me because, in his perception, I was too slow.  The speed with which he worked, and expected everyone else to work, may or may not have been caused by his past employment.  He had worked as an electrician on board Navy ships during World War II.

One day we were disconnecting some wiring in a basement.  He was standing on a small stool and reached into a closed space.  I was working about 20 feet away from him when I heard this strange noise.  I looked around and he was shaking on this stool and shouted; “Shut it off, shut it off!”  Right away I knew he had gotten into some hot wires.

The electrical disconnects were beyond where he was standing, at the other end of the basement.  I figured I’d kick the stool out from under him because I didn’t want to grab hold of him and have two dead bodies in the basement.

I had taken about two steps when the stool tipped over and he broke loose from the hot wires.  He had burned a hole, about 1/8” round, on the surface of his hand.  However, electrical burns damage the skin in a cone shape that enlarges as it goes further under the skin.  His burn was a serious burn.  I didn’t have opportunity to work with him again, so I don’t know if he lost any use of his hand or not.

I learned a lot from this fellow.

I learned both what to do and how to do it – and what not to do and why not.