I'm one of those people who is either really, really good at something, or extremely bad, one or the other. There never seems to be any in-between gray areas there, or at least I used to think so, until I began a creative writing career, and discovered much to my dismay that spell check could still show this excellent speller a thing or two. I used to think I was one of the best spellers around and was used to having other people use me as a spell-checker device. Now it's rather embarrassing to discover that according to all of those little dotted red lines on my manuscripts, I don't know how to spell at all. I mean, for Pete's sake, I can spell pterodactyl without even thinking about it, so what makes spell-check think it's so great?
Actually, spell-check just informed me that my original spelling, "pteradactyl" was incorrect. Imagine that. Don't you just hate a show-off? Okay, so I'm not the great speller I used to believe I was, but I'm still horrible at math. Spell-checker can't touch that one with a ten foot pole. Please tell me they don't have a math-checker on the market. I think I'll pass. I'm better off math stupid, because if I ever get good at it that would yet again spoil my self image. Getting good at stuff usually just causes trouble with me anyway. I have some stories I can tell along those lines, stories about when I used to work in the factory. Back then I discovered, much to my surprise, that if you refuse to do your work, the management cannot force you to do so. But they can force someone else to do it.
I always tried to be the best worker I could be, and tried to get good at the jobs I performed. This, apparently was a mistake, because when you get good at something, you also get fast and accurate at it. This gives you about three milliseconds of spare time that you could more adequately spend doing the lazy person's work. I didn't know it right off the bat, but it was my official job to do my work and someone else's too. I actually got into trouble once for not doing someone else's work. I will probably never recover from that bizarre twist of fate. This part is even worse: The person who was too lazy to do her own work actually reported me to the boss for not doing her work. The legitimate excuse? She had carpal tunnel syndrome and had doctor's orders not to do any actual work.
I also have carpal tunnel syndrome, in both hands, tennis elbow in my left arm, two flat feet from standing ten to twelve hours a day on cement floors, and a bad shoulder from repetitive motion. The only major difference between me and Lazy Face was the fact that she had doctor's permission to do nothing and I did not. There. Now you know the secret of getting paid to do absolutely nothing. I never tried it myself, never had the nerve. But I was a good worker and really got to know my job well. That meant of course, that the whole process needed reworking so I could be just as clueless as the next girl.
Then I would have to learn new processes and procedures, and of course, maintain my previous quota all the while. When I got used to the new way of doing my job, then there would have to be yet another reworking, and something new and impossibly difficult would be added, then my quota would be raised. It was a Dilbert moment that never quit. People would come to me to get their various alternator parts tested, and would ask me, "is that the right number?" I would look them in the eye and with a straight face, reply, "yup." Truth be told, I was the stator tester, and all I knew how to test was stators. Anything else they brought me was run through the procedure but without any awareness of what it was supposed to test at. Trust me, I know what I'm doing....sort of.
The factory I worked at considered training a disease better left alone, kind of like leprosy, so most of the time I was being forced to do work I really did not know how to do with any degree of accuracy. Take this story as an example: I was busily sorting alternator pulleys one afternoon, and suddenly came upon a pulley I had never seen before. I took it to my boss and asked her if she could identify it. She said, (and this is a direct quote) "oh, that's a Ford." So, I labeled a new bin all nice and neat with the word, "FORD" and threw that pulley into it. Before long, I came across another pulley, different from the first, that I had never seen before. Again, I went to the boss, and again she told me it too was a Ford pulley.
So, that one went into the bin with the other miscreant. Then later, I found a third pulley, completely different from the first two and took that to my boss as well. I told her, if you tell me this is a Ford I'm going to smack you. She took two steps back and instructed me to swing away. Okay, it was a Ford. Into the bin it went. All afternoon this went on, and I don't believe I saw the same design of Ford pulley come up twice in all that time. I began to wonder just how the Ford company manufactures their vehicles. Perhaps they simply pick a random part right out of the blue and stick it in their engines. I figured that anything I could not identify must be a Ford.
I eventually learned how to do that excruciatingly boring job with my eyes closed, but it probably could have saved a lot of time and trouble if the company had bothered to train me first. If you are driving a Ford vehicle manufactured prior to 2004, I'm terribly sorry. I promise I won't ever do it again. Actually, I myself drive a Ford vehicle manufactured in 2002 so I guess if that one runs, I must not have blown it too badly. To tell the truth though, the company I worked for was a remanufacturing business, so the only cars that would be affected by any mistakes I may have made are older models that have received remanufactured alternators. Those people are probably a tad upset with me right now.
But that was then, and this is now. I don't work in a factory anymore, and am pursuing a career in creative writing. This is a major improvement in my life, or so I say. However, I have not received a whole heck of a lot of training in the subject, except the usual on-the-job training. But, hey! Trust me, I know what I'm doing....sort of.
