sheet metal screw
(No, not the 1928 silent film Western! And not THAT old…)
After my ignominious departure from the University (I dropped out because I spent more time partying than studying. Remember Joe Cool? 1970-71), my parents (with whom I was still living) put their feet down.
I was to pay them rent. This meant upgrading my employment – both to meet my financial obligation to them, and to look for better accommodations.
My Dad knew a guy who worked for AZDES, as a job bank guy. And soon, I was interviewed and sent out for a better possible job.
At M****** S***** Nut, Bolt and Screw. A manufacturer of industrial fasteners – nuts, bolts, screws, rivets, all manner in all sizes and quantities. Not being particularly handy, I was unaware one could get such items in kegs. Or pallets of kegs. Containing thousands, weighing a lot!
Soon, I went to work commuting from the S.E. Valley to N.W. of downtown Phoenix. And, in spite of promises made I would not have to drive a clutch-operated vehicle (with my disability, it can be difficult), I was soon driving a fork lift, among my other duties!
And I got to load trucks and make local deliveries, mainly to construction companies, Valley-wide.
But, this was before political correctness. And except for a couple of secretaries in the main office, and small parts packaging, the staff and customers were entirely male. And in a blue-collar business such as this, coarse language and humor was prevalent.
ALL the company pencils had the name of the company, the address, telephone number.
And the phrase “To Us, There’s Nothing Better Than A Good S**** “
And not to be outdone, over the will-call office, wherein people came to pickup ordered merchandise, was a sign reading “We’d Like Nothing Better Than To Handle Your N**** “
Obviously, a different time. I think I was making $2.00/hour, up from $1.60 as a busboy! @ 45 hours a week.
But, all good things must come to an end.
It was closing time, and I was in a hurry to get home. My manager asked me to wait for him to load a truck for delivery – and he was taking forever. So, I took it upon myself to load the pickup truck with the fork lift, without waiting for his direction. And I put a small dent in the truck, with the clutch-operated fork lift I’d been promised I would never have to drive.
And I was subsequently fired.
No more commuting for me. At least to that part of town.
And yes, I thought I had been s******!