Stirring up Hornet's Nests

I'm just a wee bit bummed.  I'd wanted to watch The Book Of Eli again before I returned it to Netflix.  I got my notification e-mail today, and that's when I discovered that I'd mistakenly returned it instead of the Macguyver I'd meant to send back.

My consolation came in the form of a new disc of Northern Exposure.  I want to be Marilyn when I grow up. 

We had a meeting at work (yes, another one) this morning.  During the meeting, the Director of Operations --hereafter known as the Boss Hoss --said something about someone getting his hand caught in a machine and nearly losing a finger.  The Boss Hoss said that the operator had known the machine had been malfunctioning but hadn't told anyone.  My first thought was that he probably had told someone --most likely again and again, but they just didn't listen.

I know how it is out there.  When I used to work on machines, I'd report that they'd be messing up, only to be told to run them until they wouldn't run any more.  Then they'd get someone out to fix them.  So, when the Boss Hoss made his afternoon rounds of the shop floor, I called him over to show him something on my brazing stand.


My hoses.  My gas hoses.  They are supposed to be dark red and smooth.  As they get older, they fade to a light red, then to a pale pink, and eventually they turn white.  They also develop what can be best described as alligator skin.  The instructor in yesterday's brazing class said that when they get like that, it is very, very bad.  Mine are like that.  One of them even has a hole in it.  It is plugged with dried flux, but it is a hole nonetheless.  I've been complaining for I don't know how long that they need to be changed out, but no one had done it.  The last time I talked to maintenance, I was told that nobody had the time to do it.

So I called the Boss Hoss over, showed him the hoses, told him that I'd been reporting them, but nobody was listening.  Then I said, "Now you can't say that I never said anything when I get burned up." 

Guess what?  I opened that can of Whoop-*** on the right person.  Maintenance suddenly found time to change them out, and the job was done before the end of the shift.  One of the maintenance guys came by later and told me that they weren't even the right type of hoses for the gas we are using.  They were for acetylene only, and we'd switched to propylene a year ago.  They should have been changed out then. They just weren't.

Hmmm, maybe I need to talk to the Boss Hoss about that chocolate milk shake Rod owes me.

.P.S.  The neighbor's dog came over at 6.  I had to shove him out the door at 9, so I could post this and get ready for bed.  I think he wants to move in with me.  Heck, if he's gone for 3 hours and they don't even notice...