As has been said for as long as my memory reaches, the names have been changed to protect the innocent, and perhaps the guilty as well.

I was a coop engineer working for a large manufacturing concern.  It was my first rotation and was summer.  I lived some forty-five minutes from the plant, a pleasant drive by farm and field and the occasional small town.  I enjoyed my days at the plant, there was much to learn and I craved knowledge of all variety.  My supervisor, Robert, was a crusty old-school gent who gave no quarter to the lazy, but if you were willing to bust tail he would go to great lengths to assist.  He was a hard worker and respected the same in others.

I spent most of my hours on shop floor and came to know many of the assembly workers, machine adjusters, machinists, managers, engineers, and so on—all the humans who made the place tick.  We were in the trenches together solving and improving, striving to make a difference.  Robert had grown up and aged on that floor and knew everyone.  Though I thought it an invasion of personal space and seemed to fly in the face of the harassment training we’d received, I would happen upon Robert joking with the ladies who sat at machine, sometimes rubbing their shoulders.  From all I could tell no one minded the familiarity.  Indeed, several women offered comment to me so spicy it made me blush.  If lines were crossed, I had a hard time interpreting so given the mixed signals I received.  One rule which required less decoding was that of interfering with output, which Robert did violate on occasion.

Robert messed with me that summer, in a good way, and I did so in return.  In one instance he suggested I use a glass magnet to accomplish my goal.  Being green and not knowing the exact composition of glass I deferred to Robert’s reasoning as he would know if it was a ferrous material, only to hear snickering from a group behind (Robert being the loudest).

The dog days set in and with them an announcement of a drawing that would take place at the company picnic.  Suggestions to improve the plant’s efficiency would be submitted and those drawn would win a prize.  In a flash of stupidity my mind conceived a plan to joust with Robert.  My suggestion was “keep Robert away from the factory women.”  A little voice emanating from my depth said tread carefully, but I pushed it aside telling myself every slip would be reviewed in advance of the picnic and those deemed unsuitable culled—at least someone what get a laugh.  It was a reasonable assumption.  I didn’t think much about the drawing after depositing my sliver in box, instead getting involved in the day-to-day rhythms.

The picnic was to take place at a local amusement park and when dawn broke it ushered in a day tailor made for outdoor fun.  HR staff welcomed us at special entrance as we arrived and explained the day’s schedule.  We were free to roam and ride until noon where upon we were expected to join the larger group at pavilion for lunch.  Like good employees we followed said plan and after coaster and log ride arrived for the rendezvous.  All was going well until plant manager stepped forward and after a few niceties proceeded to turn to box loaded to the top with two by four paper parcels—the suggestions.  An unease came over me, yet I still had confidence my “advice” was long ago removed.  And even if it hadn’t, the odds of my slip being pulled from the box were low.

The plant manager drew suggestion one and read it aloud, then the second again reading aloud, the third was draw and our leader read silently and refrained from conducting a third reading to audience.  “We’re not going to read them all”, he said and drew the remaining papers without annunciating another.  No way I thought.

The remainder of the day was enjoyable and that night, as I lay head on pillow, I considered the hours spent at picnic and the events that unfolded at lunch.

Monday’s sun rose and before long I was on the road to work like all the summer mornings that proceeded this and I jumped straight to task after arriving at plant.  Shortly thereafter I was called to the office of assistant plant manager.

“You’re lucky the plant manager thought it was funny, otherwise you would be gone,” he said with a smile.  I apologized sincerely for my poor attempt at humor and promised not to repeat my bad behavior.  He said I should also apologize to Robert.  I agreed thanking him for giving me another chance.

Of course Robert had been informed as to my transgression.  Despite my heartfelt apology, for weeks he gave me hell, until I’d finally had enough.  I decided to go on the offense.  I told him we should post my suggestion on the bulletin board to see how many agreed.  He no longer rubbed my nose in it and in a strange way he respected my audacity.

I later learned from a female engineer who worked at the plant that Robert had had a tryst or two thus giving my suggestion a meaning I hadn’t intended.  I don’t know if that bit was true, but I learned a valuable lesson…pay attention to that little voice when it calls.  Maybe Robert learned a little lesson too.