Teamwork in the snow

Last Wednesday, I got nervous as I left work. During the day, we had our first significant snowfall of the season, and the parking lot was slick. I drive a small pickup; these things are notorious for bad traction in the winter.

It took about five minutes for me to back (and forth, and back) out of my parking space. The next challenge was to get up the twelve-foot tall ramp out onto the road. I get halfway up, and slide down. Three quarters of the way up, and slide down. Halfway up - two coworkers come over to help push. Up and down, up and down. Two more coworkers come to help. Up and down. A fifth coworker arrives; I go up, and up, and up, and - onto the road!

It snowed again today. I need to get sandbags to help my traction.
In the meantime, I love my coworkers.

Mousy personalities

On a Saturday three months ago, we were getting started on cooking lunch: grilled cheese sandwiches. I got the bag of bread out, and noticed something odd: one corner had a hole in it. The bread just inside the hole had been eaten.

The partner and I talked about various mouse traps. The spring kind? Doesn't always work, and we're too squeamish to finish the mice off ourselves. The glue kind? Inhumane. That leaves the live-catch traps.

After a week of replacing bait that had been eaten, we caught our first mouse - about three inches long. After dumping it into a large plastic jar and observing it for a short time, I turn back to the trap to clean it out. In the trap was another mouse! Just an inch long, it was hiding under the ramp. We took our mouse family to a park just outside of town; they did not want to leave that jar, clinging to the opening. I shook it rather forcefully to dump them out, at which point they bolted away.

Mouse #2 was another one-incher. This one, when taken to the park, walked to the opening, sniffed a few times, and walked on out. We left the traps out for another week, but the bait wasn't getting eaten. I thought our mouse problem was solved - until the incident with my shoes last week. So the traps have been out again. Mouse #3 did the sniff-and-walk-out routine just like #2.

Mouse #4 enlarged one of the airholes in the trap by chewing on it. It did not have to be dumped into the bucket, either: as soon as I opened the trap, it jumped straight out. This bucket is a foot tall; the mouse was repeatedly jumping and hitting its head on the lid. I caught it in the morning; after work when we headed for a local cemetary, the mouse was still doing the spectacular jump routine. It was more cautious going outside: much more sniffing than mouse #2 or 3. I didn't have to dump it, though, which made taking it out into the cold and snow easier to rationalize as being "nice".

It's been interesting seeing the different personalities of our rodent houseguests. I'm happy to say, though, the bait in the traps was not eaten today. Perhaps we get another reprieve from mousy companionship.

Yummy pork

Thursday night, we went out to a Chinese buffet. As we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed a very familiar-looking car. "Is that the rabbi's car?" I asked. Upon examination, we found a bumper sticker for Jewish summer camp. Yes, it was the rabbi's car.

Inside, the rabbi and his wife invited us to eat with them. We sat down at their table, ordered our drinks, and went to the buffet.

After we all had food, a steaming plate full of bacon is brought to our table. "Thank you," says the rabbi to the waiter. The partner and I must have looked surprised: "It's on the buffet at lunch," he explained. "I eat here a lot and they know I really like it."

I don't think anyone in our Reform congregation keeps strict kosher, but some follow modified versions - they don't keep separate utensils for dairy and meat, for example, but won't eat cheeseburgers. The rabbi, though? He's spiritual in other ways.

Nutty mammals

Yesterday, I arrived for my organ lesson. I sat down and started to change into my organ shoes.

The shoe wouldn't go on. A cursory inspection found that the insole had come unglued; I tried pushing on the insole, then went to put the shoe on my foot again.

My organ teacher stares in disbelief. "What is that!?" he says. This prompts me to take a closer look at my shoe. Slowly, I realize there are foreign object in my shoe: birdseed and pecans. "I have mice," I respond.

Do I know you?

I came in to work this morning, and ran across an impromptu manager's meeting in the hallway. Among other things, I learn, one of our testing machines had broken, and can't be fixed for several weeks. One of our customers generously agreed to let us use their machine, and we sent someone over with an order of parts.

When our employee finished his tests, he had to wait for his ride (our truck driver). While reading the newspaper, he was reprimanded three times (by three different employees of the customer) for slacking off.

We teased him that we were too easy on him at my company, so the unfair criticism at our customer balanced that out. But still, how weird that multiple people would assume a stranger was under their supervision.

Manufacturing down, manufacturing up

My company processes parts for heavy equipment. Much of this is for the ag industry; winter is a slow month for that market. Another significant part of our workload is (was?) automotive parts - that segment of our business has dropped by more than half in the past two years, and the decline has accelerated in the past few months. (Which makes me cynical about the automotive bailout - the "automotive-related jobs" at my company have already been hit, I'm not convinced keeping the big three afloat would actually trickle down to us).

With major business sources down, and other customers slowing with the economy, we're spending more time wiping counters and mopping floors instead of processing parts. The company laid off six people last week, out of sixty employees. If we get down to thirty employees, I'm told, I'll go to the night shift. It's reassuring to know I'd still have a job at that point. But unsettling that the company is even contemplating cuts that big.

In the midst of this, a big jump in gun parts. Apparently gun sales are way up. To the point I can't even contact those customers: I tried unsuccessfully for two days to call one with a question about processing. (I ended up faxing my question.) Many of the orders are "big rush".

I've been conflicted for years on making part of my living from gun manufacture. At this point, however, it's sure nice to have at least one area of business with a good outlook.

Shingle mystery

Last Wednesday, I came home from work and found a paper laying in my yard. I went over to pick it up, and found that it was a piece of a business check, the kind that come in three-ring binders. Looking around for a clue to where it came from, I see a shingle in front of my house.

A shingle and a business check in my yard? I think I know where these came from. I walk toward the shingle, craning my neck a little to look at my neighbor's house. I was right: there's no tarp on his roof. The damage from a storm in July was repaired.

Our neighbor taking so long on the repair had made us feel better about taking a long time. We recently hired a contractor to do some structural work and remodeling in addition to fixing our eaves and gutters; most of the work probably won't start until spring. We'll be the last ones by far in our neighborhood to take care of damage from that storm. The neighbor actually had a hole in his roof, though, so I'm glad he got it fixed before winter set in. It's good to be prepared for winter.