Valve Down

The day before the Valve Shop burned down, I turned 29 and the girl I was living with at the time left me. At the time, I was mostly upset I wouldn’t be getting the homemade chocolate cake I had been pestering Gwen for. I celebrated my 29th birthday alone with a case of Budweiser; I don’t know if I ate anything, but there was no cake that is for sure.

The next day at work I was hiding in my office, losing at Online poker, and generally feeling sorry myself. Down $200, I shut my monitor off in disgust, and slid open my bottom desk drawer where I had a Bottle of Scotch, Aspirin, and a Thermos of coffee. I paused when I saw the Scotch (Better not, at least for now), ate 2 Aspirin dry, and washed it down with Coffee. I was thinking I should run out to grab a Sausage McMuffin when Kim Wong knocked on the Office door and stepped in. Kim Wong was my Lead Hand, and a longtime friend. He was not a particularly good Valve Technician, and when I looked at his forced smile, I knew the McMuffin would need to wait.

“Hey boss, we got a leak in the pit.” Shoot. We had 4 large valves to get tested and painted, and it was going to take some luck to get them done. A leak likely meant a minimum of a 1-hour delay. If I didn’t have the hangover, I would have been helping Kim instead of losing money playing Poker over the Internet. I had been making those sorts of bad decisions for a while, so really it wasn’t a big surprise Gwen left. I can say that now, but at the time I silently blamed Kim’s incompetence (For the Leak, not Gwen) and wondered if I should have added Scotch to my coffee.

“Ok, let’s go Kim.” I got up and walked briskly with Kim the thirty feet across the shop and down the stairs to the Testing Pit where we tested all the Valve’s over 16”. I came down the twenty steps to the bottom of the Pit, and was happy I was wearing my Steel Toed Rubbers, as there was a half an inch of water on the floor. I looked at the hydraulic gauges that measured the pressure squeezing the valve together and saw they were barely over 1000 psi. These 24” needed 3000 psi squeeze pressure in order to even think about starting a test. I looked at Kim sharply.

“Did you try to pressure test it yet?”

Kim looked uncomfortable. “Not yet, I was about to but it was pouring water out the Left hydraulic plate.”

I looked and saw that. The valve would need to come out and have the Test plate resealed. At least an hour delay, if we moved quickly.

Twenty minutes later, Kim and I had reinstalled the big valve in the test stand when the booming voice of my boss, Don Richards, called my name:

“John, you have your crew’s time cards ready? We need to get payroll in early this week.”

I had finished approving the Time Cards 15 min into my shift and put them in the Accounting mailbox before hiding in my office. I wanted to get this valve under pressure before sneaking out for my McMuffin.

“Hey, I put it up in the mailbox hours ago. Did Jackie not find them?”

Don’s bald head gleamed almost as much as the smile that did not quite form in his eyes.

“Actually, John, why don’t you come with me up to my Office? I have something to discuss with you.” I looked at him, and the bastard looked at me encouragingly. Inwardly, I groaned. I forced a nod.

“Sure, let’s go Don. Better make it quick, we have a lot of work to finish tonight.” I looked at Kim.

“Kim, stay here until I get back. If it fills up, just wait for me. I will be right back.” He nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything-he was good like that. It was the last time I ever saw him alive.

2

I had been running the Night Shift at Smith Valves for 5 years with gusto when the Plant Manager died and I applied for the job. Two months later, I was told that I didn’t have the Education required for the job. That was understandable, I had dropped out of Business school at 19 with a major in Marijuana, Grunge Music, and fast women-lots of fun, but not much professional prospects.

A week later a tall, thin man with receding hair had walked briskly on the shop floor just as I was helping bust apart a 48-inch Ball valve repair and offered a sweaty hand out to shake. I looked at my oily hands, and then at this skinny middle-aged man with a question on my lips. The man who had just called me to his Office had smiled and said:

“John Hammond? My name is Don Richards, the new Plant Manager here. A pleasure to meet you.”

One year later, I had been proving Smith Valves right that I wasn’t “Management Material” for quite while so as I sat in the crappy visitor chair in Don’s office I wondered if this was going to be a long “Pep talk” and what it would take for me to get a greasy breakfast.

Don threw a small black notebook in front of me. I caught it , opened it up and looked at the neat handwriting on the first page. Jan.12, Fifteen minutes. Jan.27, 27 minutes. Feb.1, 20 minutes. The list went on. I looked at Don, not understanding.

“What is this?”

“John, those are times you have been witnessed slacking off while on the clock.” Don was matter of fact, but there was an edge to his voice. I flipped through the book; it was nearly full. The last entry was marked: November 12 (Today) 27 min; Witnessed John playing poker on computer. The entry before that: November 10: 16 min; Witnessed John smoking cigarettes and talking on the phone during work time. November 9: 45 min: Witnessed John watching videos on computer. I noticed there was another column with a running total. 22 hours, 15 min? I did say I had been proving myself as “Non-Management Material”; my face flushed as I realized I had been proving myself as a “Bad Employee”. I tried not to show these thoughts in my face. Don had no such issues; he looked a bit like my Junior High Guidance counselor. He looked visibly disappointed and frustrated.

“John, I could fire you. We both know it. You have been dogging it, but since I started, I have seen your crew produce admirably. This is despite the lack of experience on your crew and your occasional slacking. But this can’t go on.”

I looked at Don now, and wondered what was coming.

“So, I am not firing you-I will give you a last chance. I am going to suspend you for 1 week without pay and put a write up in your file. We aren’t going to tell your crew what is going on; I am going to tell Kim you aren’t feeling well, and that you had to go home.”

I looked across the desk at this man I had despised for the last year and contemplated his words. I wondered, for the first time, if I had been wrong about Don. Christ. I was not getting fired today. I was a bit disappointed, but even more so I was relieved.

In a daze, I signed the written reprimand, actually thanked Don, and when I stood up to leave his Office, I did something I never thought I would do: I shook his hand without regret. Too bad I never saw Don again.

3

I managed to change out of my Coveralls, grab my coat and leave the factory without seeing anyone. I got in my 10-year-old Toyota 4 Runner, and drove off with my mind racing. Freshly dumped. Drinking and gambling too much. On notice at work. Not a great time in my life.

Five minutes from my house, I cut off an angry Soccer Mom pulling into the Strip Mall. At least, I think that is what the loud honking and gesturing of the middle finger meant, I think? Like I said, my mind racing. I pulled in and thought? McMuffin or beer? My stomach wasn’t ready for more beer. My phone buzzed as I pulled into the McDonalds drive, and I answered without looking at the caller id.

“Hello?”

“John, where are you?” Kim.

“Kim? Didn’t Don tell you? I told him I felt like crap, and he sent me home.” Well, 50% true.

“Yeah, he told me. Look, John, I am sorry about that.”

“Kim. What are you talking about?” In my stomach, I already knew. My brain hadn’t connected something I had seen earlier as yet, but in my gut I knew.

Kim cleared his throat audibly. “John, I had to. You have been leaving us to pickup your slack all the time lately. I went to Don and he told me to document it.”

The black book. That neat handwriting my stomach had recognized earlier but my brain hadn’t yet. Until now. I was disappointed, but not mad.

“Kim, I get it. Don’t worry about it. I will be back in a few days, and I will have my head on straight when I do.”

I hear nothing over the line except breathing for a moment.

“Thanks John. Look, uh, what do I have to clamp this valve at again?”

I sighed. I gave Kim step by step instructions again on how to pressure up the 24” valves he was working on alone in my absence. I clicked off without saying goodbye, and wondered if he would be able to get it done without me there. I hoped so.

I went into Hap’s Convenience Store, buying: A Diet Coke, a pack of cigarettes, and a scratch and win lottery ticket. As Hap was ringing in my purchases, I looked in the corner where a few years ago Kim and I would have played “Street Fighter 2”. Drinking slushes, eating Candy bars, talking about the cute girls in class. A simpler time.

I got back in my 4 Runner and lit a cigarette. I really didn’t want to go home yet, but had nowhere else really to go. Not now. I gulped half the Diet Coke, and took another drag on the cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. Using my house keys, I started scratching the lottery ticket. It had two portions, one play area where you had to match the three symbols and one instant win area.

Cherry. Cherry. Dynamite? Crap.

I absentmindedly scratched the Instant Win area, and just barely glanced at it. Win $20000. Wait a minute. I looked back. Congratulations, you have won $20000.

4

The next morning, I collected my 20K first thing in the morning and went immediately to purchase a 1987 SS Monte Carlo with a custom sky-blue paint job and gold rims that I had been admiring for weeks. My mind was clear, and I felt pretty good as I came through the door of the one level house I now lived in alone. The phone was ringing.

“Yes?”

“John? I have been trying to reach you, where have you been?”

Jackie, the Office Manager & Payroll specialist. Also, my Aunt.

“John, there was a fire last night in the paint booth. The shop burnt down. Don Edwards and Kim Wong are both dead.”

I sat on the floor, holding the old phone by the cord. My head was ringing, and tears were coming down my face. It took a few minutes for me to realize I was screaming.