You'll Go Potty About This
You see, when I was doing a bit of digging about the story I began yesteryon, about the black garlic - Conrad was unaware that such a thing existed - and truffle-infused glaze, I checked on teh Interwebz to see if I could find out what it looked like or where it came from, as right at the beginning of the story ILP stated it did not take place in South Canada. Art!
A 'Nuclear-powered pressure washer flamethrower', for when water just isn't enough. I use this click-bait picture because otherwise you'd fall asleep at the Midnight Glaze picture. Art!
ANYWAY we left off yesteryon's description of More Merry Manglement with Industrial Lynch Pin being sacked by the VP of Operations in an ill-judged rage when he argued with her about getting a raise and promotion. 'Ill-judged' because ILP knew and understood the delicate technicalities of making The Midnight Glaze. This glaze had won industry awards and was ordered under contract from businesses across Not South Canada. Perhaps British America?
Art!
After deleting his personal files, all that was left were the basic ingredients list and the bare bones of how to process 500 kilos of tomato purée, 20 kilos of garlic and 5 kilos of salt.
Things were quiet for a week. ILP had a contact inside, Woody, who kept him informed. TMG, under the supervision of a supervisor totally unfamiliar with the process, came out looking palle, anaemic and with the oil separated. Because they didn't have ILP's personal instructions on HOW to do the processing.
Then 5,000 bottles in the warehouse exploded.
In week 2, a nervy e-mail came into his inbox from HR, asking where all the 'Art' files were. 'Deleted as per SWWWINK's instructions' was his terse reply. Art!
By week three, the deadline for supplying a major buyer arrived, whose contract had massive 'Failure to deliver' fines built in.
SWWWINK ('She Who We WIll Name Karen') weakened and rang ILP, to complain that they'd had to dump the last four batches, costing $50,000 in ingredients. Suddenly the salary savings in firing ILP didn't look so rosy, hmmm? She admitted that the Major Buyer needed their TMG shipping by Friday or they'd cancel the contract, and wanted him to e-mail his personal files over and come in for a day. Well, the files didn't exist and he wasn't coming in for a single minute, let alone a day. Ooops.
Less than an hour later the owner of the company rang to beg ILP to return.
ILP replied that he'd require $500 per hour (not the $40 he had been working for), a written apology from SWWWINK, and 40 hours payment upfront. Art!
The owner didn't call back. Instead he hired a 'Process Consultant' from an agency, who had 0% experience of working with acidic sauces like TMG. Woody called ILP on Wednesday, saying that all the pumps had seized, with TMG turning into toxic sludge in the pipelines, with one pump literally burning out trying to pump treacle. The Fire Brigade turned up and the factory was shut down.
So, not only was the sixth batch utterly destroyed, another $12,500 ingredients write-off, but they now had the cost of destroyed plant equipment as well. Yes, insurance might cover it but they'd have to pay upfront to get back in operation. By my estimates they'd saved about $6,500 in not paying ILP's wages, but had burned through possibly $80,000 in costs in four weeks.
The owner caved and sent ILP the contract. Art!
He arrived on the factory floor and began implementing salvage operations, using his 'Art' file notes he had on a personal HDD. By Friday TMG was back in production, as high-quality as when ILP was employed there. He went to see the owner in his office, with a despondent SWWWINK sitting in the corner keenly observing the floor, and my figures were way off: the cost was $150,000, plus his salary of $25,000 and the cost of a new pump, so probably around $200,000.
Here comes the twist in the tale. Owner offered ILP his job back with a promotion and 25% raise.
ILP refused because, pointing at SWWWINK, explained she had been allowed to treat the staff horribly, and the offer was only being made because it had cost Owner money. Can't argue with that. ILP said he was going to start a crisis management company specialising in the food industry. Woody joined him.
TMG still got made, but without the 'Art' notes - he took his HDD home with him - it's quality declined markedly, to the point where that Major Buyer dropped them as sales fell so much.
O yes SWWWINK got fired. Tee hee. Meanwhile ILP's business is thriving.
I did leave out some technical jargon along the lines of "You have to ramp the mixer to 40 Hertz, hold for ten minutes, then drop to 20. If you stay at 40 you break the bonds," because that sounds like ILP boasting a bit. Art!
There you go, proof positive that manglement can not just kill the golden goose, but pluck, gut and roast it over an open fire.
An Incidental
I mentioned Food Scientist E. E. 'Doc' Smith yesteryon, the author of perhaps the most definitive space-opera series ever: the Lensmen saga. He also published other works, notably the 'Skylark' series. Art!
With the obligatory Chris Foss cover. I read this back in 1975 and only just discovered yesteryon that he began writing it in <drum roll cymbal clash> 1916! You wouldn't guess it from the text. Imagine that, just 13 years after powered flight at Kitty Hawk and he's already got interstellar travel at supralight speeds. Give that man the whole coconut shy.
What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
I am now up to Episode 5 of the Thai zombie thriller 'Zomvivor' but decided to return to Episode 3, as there are some spectacularly bad decisions in play. Art!
This is Pao, the raving loonwaffle who is both off his meds and off his heads, having already attacked one person with an axe, and whom is doing his best to turn another persons whole head into two halves. He gets tackled and disarmed. Art!
This is Mook. Mook is a moron. Moron Mook. "But what's the point of keeping him tied up like that?"
SO HE DOESN'T KILL YOU ALL YOU DOG BUNS BUMBLETUCK!
You can probably tell this is not going to end well. More next blog.
No More Darwinnies
Not for a while, anyway. It's just too depressing to read about how amazingly, lethally stupid Hom. Sap. can be. Like the one Narrator described about four of his friends in a car on the back roads, driving waaaay over the speed limit and doing what he called 'drifts', which I think are controlled skids.
The driver lost control and ploughed into a tree. Two of the three passengers were killed instantly, the third died en route to hospital, and yet the driver survived unscathed. Except he's now doing life in prison.
No mention of drink or drugs by Narrator so I think this was just good old-fashioned teen stupidity at play.
Mood Booster
Looking in my "QI Book Of Banter" I found one by Robert Heinlein concerning mathematics.
"Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human. At best he is a tolerable subhuman, who has learned to wear shoes, bathe, and not make messes about the house."
Well, Conrad has to confess to not being quite entirely somewhat human, I suppose, and not good at mathematics, either. Art!
Bob
Finally -
From the man who wrote sci-fi before it existed, ladies and gentlemen and those unsure, a Biercism.
"Year, n: A period of three hundred and sixty five disappointments."
Hmmm, go me. This is Saturday's first blog done on a Thursday. You're welcome.
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