Guest Posts on County 10 are provided by contributors and the opinions, thoughts, and comments within are their own and may not necessarily reflect those of County 10.
Doughnuts to drill bits, it’s a phrase you don’t hear often, even at a dentist’s office. But the organization required to handle a long line of impatient customers at a pastry shop and an overbearing foreman on a job site have more similarities than you might think.
We had a whirlwind 17 days over the last two weeks and change. Sue’s older brother Paul passed away in late February from a traumatic brain injury and we flew from Casper to Houston for the funeral.
Early March was once a lock for me, I was always at the 1-A/2-A West Tournament and then at the following small school state tournament in Casper. Jayne’s arrival on February 27, 2017, changed my scheduling, and Norah’s arrival two years later on March 2nd had me in suburban Pittsburgh for their birthdays rather than three days at Casper College, the Ford Wyoming Center, and Natrona County High School unless I could shoehorn in both events.
I made the first three 2-A games at Casper College on Thursday before making a quick run to the Waltman rest stop to pick up Sue who was shuttled there from Riverton later that evening. We made it back to watch Wind River win their opening round game over Wright, then after a short night, boarded a Sky West jet for Denver, and found ourselves in 82-degree Houston early that Friday afternoon.
From there we flew to Pittsburgh and had a fabulous two weeks with the granddaughters (and Staci and Adam of course) then caught another flight back to Denver, then to Casper last Friday for Paul’s internment at his hometown cemetery in Lusk on Saturday.
It was on that layover in Denver last Friday that the doughnut/drill bit connection took place.
The girls wanted a Voodoo doughnut. If you haven’t heard, Voodoo Doughnuts is the latest darling of Concourse B in Denver and a popular spot in airports across the nation.
Sue and I, with Jayne and Norah in tow, stood in one of those double-back lines that pack customers in place while they wait to reach the counter.
As we finally approached the counter after about a 10-minute wait I noticed a very organized, “Power Woman” standing at the counter.
She had spectacular luggage, the kind that is so coordinated it just screams organization. She had more zippers on those three carefully arranged bags than the worst horror movie nightmare character you can imagine.
She took her time in line, asking the insightful questions you’d expect from a power woman. “What kind of yeast is used in these? Is this gluten-free flour? Were any animals harmed in the frying of these doughnuts?” Yes, that impressive style of interrogatory comments.
After wasting five minutes in line, she tried to pay for a couple of gigantic masses of fried dough with a credit card. It was declined.
Not a problem for most people, just grab another one or some cash and complete the transaction. But this was a power woman, she’d already slid her credit card back into a zippered wallet, placed the wallet in a zippered case inside one of her bags, and then dropped a smaller bag over it.
Yes, she had to reverse the process. Remove the offending bag, open the zipper to the compartment, pull out the wallet, unzip it, pull out another credit card, and then pay the bill.
She was so organized she took five times the time it would have taken the most slovenly clown you can imagine.
As a comparison a family of eight people, none of whom apparently spoke English, completed an entire order for a dozen doughnuts arriving after she did and leaving before, but at least she was organized.
As a college kid, I worked a lot of construction jobs. The money was good, I learned a lot of carpentry, plumbing, electrical and concrete skills, and did I mention, the money was good?
The bigger the job, the more organized the tool trailer.
Working for Alder Construction out of Salt Lake City, organization took on an exponential tone.
Our foreman, Loren Ricks, was a stickler for an organized tool trailer.
Not only were the hammers, saws, shovels, and picks all hung with care, the extension cords were wrapped in an over/under figure eight style that was designed to prevent snarls. Snarls cost money, and Loren was all about that bonus check he was going to get if we finished early on the project.
His tool trailer was a shrine to useful organization.
On smaller jobs, with smaller companies, it’s just not that important.
My own shop is a testament to this. No, I’m not organized on the scale of the “power woman” or as intricate as a large construction company trailer, but I know where everything is in my shop.
Need a spade drill bit? It’ll be in the third drawer next to the drum sander. How about an eighth-inch speed bit? Those are in the fourth drawer, inside a folding metal container.
Hinges and small brass screws are above the shelf holding six different palm sanders and my portable power tools are all stacked under the vertical belt sander just to the left of the miter saw.
If you wandered in and tried to work on a project you’d waste a lot of time finding the correct tools, but in my shop, and in my mind I know where everything is located.
If somewhere were to clean and organize my shop, I would be hopelessly crippled. The time wasted in finding bits, screwdrivers, blades, and sliding t-bevels would fill an entire afternoon.
What’s the happy medium? There has to be a happy medium or is it “median?” doesn’t there?
Companies must have standardized parts, storage, and tool locations or their workers would have to be lifelong employees, that doesn’t happen anymore, so organization has taken the place of dedication.
In a smaller setting, you can afford to be more comfortable in your organizational skills.
For me, I go back to an elderly neighbor when I was in second grade.
Mr. Wheat had a watch repair shop. It was filled with miraculous tools, magnetic devices, magnifying glasses, vices, screwdrivers, and drills that seemed infinite to my eight-year-old mind.
The shop was a mess, but as I hung around learning a few of his techniques a customer would come in and Mr. Wheat would ask a question or two, then slide down his bench on his roller chair to grab a tool he didn’t even look at and begin working. It made an indelible impression on my young mind.
Skills, knowledge, and yes, organization are all in the implementation.
Organization on the scale of the “power woman” would have diminished, or eliminated that impression.