You just reminded me of my short bastard super from one of my old jobs. They put me on the prep deck to get all the wash process water off the parts with compressed air before they go into the paint booth. One day they bump the line up to something like 14 feet per minute and tell me that I should stop the line if I need more time for quality reasons. So I stop the line because water is still seeping out. Fucking Mike whips in there with his private forklift and goes “hey why the fucks the line stopped” and hits the go button. A couple back and forths at shift meetings and I give up, because they’ve got me working 5 or 6 10s and I have lost the ability to give a damn. So now the paint is fouling on every fourth part, and when the facility manager comes round bitching about our reworks guess who gets thrown under the bus?
You just reminded me of my short bastard super from one of my old jobs. They put me on the prep deck to get all the wash process water off the parts with compressed air before they go into the paint booth. One day they bump the line up to something like 14 feet per minute and tell me that I should stop the line if I need more time for quality reasons. So I stop the line because water is still seeping out. Fucking Mike whips in there with his private forklift and goes “hey why the fucks the line stopped” and hits the go button. A couple back and forths at shift meetings and I give up, because they’ve got me working 5 or 6 10s and I have lost the ability to give a damn. So now the paint is fouling on every fourth part, and when the facility manager comes round bitching about our reworks guess who gets thrown under the bus?
God I hate manufacturing