My response to the memoir prompt, Accomplishments, says that sometimes achievements come with little or no fanfare and are often a silent understandings punctuated by a nod shared between two people…

I was Plant Manager for a small, but rapidly growing manufacturing concern at the time this little nugget of personal achievement happened. There were no ribbons, badges, medals, or trophies given away. No certificates were printed, no cigars lit, nor were there any general ceremonial glad handing gestures bandied about; just two men of different skill sets that spiritually shook each others’ hand when the accomplishment was realized.

Lonnie, a welder at the shop who was 15 years my senior, had recently been chosen as the sole welder to run and maintain the fairly new robotic welding process that was implemented to automate a typically mundane and unreliable manual process. The company had purchased a used robotic welding arm, something that looked like an extra in a Harry Harryhausen claymation epic, and set up a special area to perform the operation. This actually happened before I became Plant Manager.

The previous Plant Manager had taught Lonnie to fear that machine; told him that all he was to ever touch on the control panel was the green button (start) and the huge, red mushroom cloud emergency stop button. And believe me; Lonnie was petrified of the very tool he depended on for his livelihood.

#FAIL

Soon after I took the spotlight, the company purchased a new robot that was operated through even more advanced controls. For some unknown reason, I was chosen to take the classes designed to educate users on the advanced control system. Actually, the reason I was chosen probably had to do with Lonnie’s learned fear of the old robot and my aggressive need to feed the curious beast that lived in my skull.

With the classes behind me, I was itching to share the wealth of knowledge with Lonnie so that he could belie his fears and learn to respect the machines he was to manipulate day and day out. I needed someone with his excellent welding skills to be comfortable with operating the equipment so I wouldn’t be nailed down in one department.

A tough row to hoe.

Lonnie had little or no exposure to computers, or digital equipment of any type, so there was that obstacle to overcome too. As it turned out, I was tempting a fate worse than eye gouging by Ticonderoga #2.

I would show Lonnie how to get around the keyboard panel so he could write some basic programs; he would take notes and then try it for himself. His finger would approach the panel and then rotate, pivoting at his hand, as if it was a random dagger ready to stab at something that might work. Barney Fife had more luck interrogating Otis.

I devised a plan to help Lonnie learn his way around the control panel while under no pressure and in his spare time. The scheme was anchored in the fact that every morning the welder would error first thing. Specifically, due to cool wet air, the first arc would typically cause the wire to stick on the part. A message was delivered to the display screen: Wire Sticking, Please Release. As I snaked into the maintenance pages of the controller to change that message, I made sure that Lonnie made precise notes. I then left him to his own devices.

Day after day, I would check that message, and watch Lonnie as he fumbled through his notes only to come up shy of the brass ring.

Enter the women!

The shop wasn’t big enough to actually have a Human Resources Department, so we relied on a temp service to help us place personnel inside the company. Every once in a great while, the young women who ran the temp service would make courtesy calls, field trips when boredom set in. The manager happened to call me and asked if they could get a tour of the plant for some of the newer girls at the service—Please! We’ll bring donuts—sometime in the upcoming week. Much batting of eyelashes could be heard over the phone.

Aha! A nefarious scheme was unfolding at each syllable of the conversation.

“How about tomorrow, first thing?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Alex. You are so kind.” More of the proverbial batting of eyelashes, along with a hint of thigh.

Okay, so my imagination works overtime. This IS my story, and I’ll remember it the way I want to.

Sure enough, the next morning, a bevy of fine women, five in all, showed up at the daily opening of the front gate, and they were bearing gifts of glaze and multicolored sugar sprinkles. Donuts were had in the shop area, and I waited for Lonnie to make his trek to the welding area. A full three minutes later, I gathered the guests and ushered them over to show off the newest creature in our manufacturing family: the au courant robotic welder.

We entered the room just as Lonnie was about to engage the start button, and I hurriedly shuffled the women to gather around him and the controller.

With the button engaged, the robot gyrated through the start up moves and sped over to poise itself above the part. In position, the welder started, and POP! The wire stuck, but the message on the screen read: Lonnie The Rat Dick.

A few choked giggles could be detected as the room fell almost silent to the tune of a nuclear glow. Lonnie’s embarrassment could have chernobyled all the crumbling rusty bricks of the room’s walls as he quickly shielded the screen with his body and furiously punched the panel with his laser guided finger.

After quickly shepherding the group of women out of the room and through the rest of the tour—collecting kisses on the cheek and warm hugs because that’s how I remember it—I went immediately back to the welding department where I was greeted with a wry grin and a gruff, “You bastard!”

Lonnie laughed and waved me on over to the controller where he showed me several times how he could now acrobatically get in and out of the message system, and he said “ That embarrassing pressure caused me to remember precisely what you showed me. My notes weren’t worth a shit. I was driven by remembering your keystrokes and what they meant.”

The time had come. The achievement reached.

Lonnie had turned his fear into a working respect and eagerness to learn, while I had gained knowledge of an employee who could excel when under extreme pressure. There was also the big plus of freedom to do my job as the Plant Manager, and the company’s success was propelled a little further along by the melding of old school skills and new age technology.

© 2011, Alex Crabtree. All rights reserved.

Years ago I started writing Flash Fiction for just the sheer enjoyment of writing, and now it has turned into a full blown addiction. I can't quit the horse, man! Another dirty little secret about me is my ability to write all kinds of web content. SEO content, articles, blog posts, manifests; you name it, I'll write it. Looking for some help? My gun hangs at r.alex.crabtree@gmail.com

Alex Crabtree

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This entry was posted on February 5, 2011 at 3:06 pm and is filed under Memoirs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.