Four Men's Gold
It was garbage day and a friend of mine was asked by his neighbor if he would help him load a large box of magazines into his car so he could deliver them to the local recycling center. My friend agreed but upon closer examination of the material, commented, "These are all adult magazines. Where did you get all these adult magazines?"
The neighbor explained that he had collected them over a period of many years but that his new wife wanted him to part with them.
"Yes, but you have two hundred pounds of magazines here. Why would you want to take them to the recycling center? Why not put them out with the rest of your garbage?" asked my friend.
"Because the garbage man won't pick them up."
"I bet he will."
"You aren't supposed to put magazines in the garbage."
"Trust me. The garbage man will take them."
My friend and his neighbor set the box by the side of the road and went inside to wait for the garbage collector. Soon a truck pulled up in front of the house. One man got out of the cab while the driver stayed, two others jumped off the back and the three dispersed to collect garbage cans from the neighborhood. One of the men grabbed the box, however, it didn't move and he nearly jerked himself off his feet. He opened the flap of the box, examined the contents and quickly closed the box back up. He looked around to see if anyone was watching before he waved to the driver. "Come here!" he said.
The driver climbed out of the truck and walked over to the man. The finder opened the box so that the driver could examine the contents and then quickly closed the box. The two men looked around to see if anyone was watching and whispered for a few minutes before the other two sanitation workers returned to the truck. The box was opened for the new arrivals and then quickly closed. The men looked around to see if anyone was watching as more whispering ensued.
It was if the men had found the mother lode. The four of them carefully lifted the box into the front seat of the truck thus causing the third man to have to ride on the back of the truck with the other two. Their bounty was that valuable to them.
My friend had proved his point and also that one man's garbage is four men's gold.
Leg Man
While working on the installation of a new piece of machinery, a worker was lifting a heavy steel support beam in order to bolt it into place. As he held the beam he began to express discomfort in the muscle of his leg.
"Man oh man!" he exclaimed. "Now that hurt!"
"Charlie horse?" someone asked.
"Charlie horse isn't the word for it. A Charlie horse would have be a blessing compared to how this feels."
By this time, another worker had walked up to see what the commotion was about. He looked at the steel support beam and said, "Can I help you with that?"
The injured worker replied as he pointed to his leg, "That would be great. How about massaging it a little while."
Fish Kill
It was a cloudless day. The warmth of the fall sun made the day seem as if it would be perfect. Yes, for me perhaps, but not exactly for the technician who was working on one of my laboratory machines. The technician definitely knew what he was doing and seemed exceptionally qualified except for one thing. He was no electrician. He had found a motor that he identified as being bad. The motor shaft was much too difficult to turn and he had indicated that this was a major problem. "Expect two to three days for a new one to arrive," he said.
One thing my friend didn't understand is that when power is supplied to a generator, it becomes a motor and when mechanical power is applied to a motor, it becomes a generator. During the process of his working on the machine he disconnected the leads to the motor and spun the shaft turning the motor into a generator. Disconnecting the leads in effect took the load off the motor, the leads being connected causing the motor not to turn freely. He looked rather perplexed to see the motor shaft spin so freely. For reasons unknown to me, he spun the shaft again and grabbed the wires protruding from the motor. I don't believe I have ever heard quite the string of expletives that this man let fly from his mouth. With his eyes widened he had to slap his hand loose from the wires as the flow of generated electricity locked the grip of his hand.
Now this being funny all by itself, it evidently wasn't funny enough for the technician because he spun the motor and grabbed the leads again. Another string of expletives that have never been heard previously by man were unleashed unto the world.
Several years ago, I had heard about a man who went fishing with an old crank type telephone generator. He'd drop the leads into the water and crank the generator causing the fish to be shocked whereby they would float to the top for him to collect. On this warm and cloudless fall day, I'd say, the technician's fish had all floated to the top.
Bribery
I was working at the computer one afternoon. My son walked up to me and said, "Hit me daddy."
I told him, "I'm not going to hit you! Why would I do that?"
"Just hit me."
"NO! I'm not going to hit you."
"Please hit me."
"Why do you want me to hit you. That's crazy!"
"Just hit me. Not hard but hit me."
So I lightly hit him in the chest. He grinned from ear to ear. "Hit me again Daddy."
"This is absurd," I say but I oblige and hit him lightly in the chest. My son begins to giggle as he runs out of the room.
I go back to what I was working on and in about five minutes, my son returns dressed in a policeman's uniform. "Excuse me sir but you're under arrest," he grins.
"Oh, I am, am I? What did I do officer?"
"You broke the law."
"And just what law did I break officer?"
"You hit someone."
" I didn't hit anyone. I've been sitting here working on the computer."
"Yes you did."
"Okay, who did I hit?"
"You hit my friend."
"Ah, I see." I had just come to the realization that he was talking about when he asked me to hit him, so I tried to turn things in my favor. "But officer, your 'friend' told me to hit him."
"You shouldn't have listened to him. You have to come with me now."
"Where are we going?"
"I have to take you to jail and write you a ticket."
"So, how long do I have to stay in jail?"
"Four days. If you're good, I'll let you out but if you're bad, you'll have to stay another four days."
"If I give you some ice cream do I still have to go to jail and get a ticket."
"Maybe I'll just give you a ticket."
"How about if I give you two scoops?"
"Okay, but don't hit my friend anymore."
"Deal."
I keep telling my son that he could be President one day. He certainly seems to be accumulating the necessary tools.
|
|
 |
© Copyright 2004 - 2010 Robert Byron All Rights Reserved | Terms of Service | Privacy | Piedmont Photo | The Blog
