Everything was messed up at work. We had a large order that was just full of dents in the hairpins. Because we had a trainee on the test tank, he didn't know how to fix them. So, the regular test tank guy had to fix all those dents while the trainee ran the test tank by himself. That's not good.
Then the next order had clamp marks in the header. Bad ones. Because it's a cosmetic defect, not a functional one, the supervisor said to let them go. About half way through that order, the production superintendent came over and gave them The Look. I was afraid for a moment that he'd make us start over, but he let us run the rest of them out. He made it clear, though, that they shouldn't have been ran with those marks.
Then I got home and Beverly called me and said, "Can you be ready to do Christmas tomorrow night?" After a brief moment of panic, I realized that yes, I could do Christmas tomorrow night. At least I've gotten all my presents bought, though I don't have all my food made.
Just about the only bright spot in my day is that nothing threw up.
And my friend texted me and asked me what futile means. My first inclination was to say, "It's what resistance is."
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