You Mean The Ones Who Actually Get Shit Done?

I resemble that remark.

I have always had a certain disdain for guys who supposedly turn wrenches for a living yet go out of their way to be just as clean or cleaner when they go home as they were when they showed up for work.

If you aren’t getting dirty and greasy then you ain’t actually wrenching.

You are avoiding work or worse yet in my opinion, wasting valuable time by being a pussy who is afraid to get dirty.

Do the rest of us a favor and go be a Parts Guy or something.

Fix the fucking thing or move on.

I have always been a dive in and roll around in it kind of guy.

They make soap for Christ’s Sake and 98.5% of us ain’t working on Formula One racing cars or even worse in my opinion , Concourse level snobs.

Those people give Anal Retentives a bad name.

Meme brazenly stolen from Racingjunk.com, who I found via Brock over at Free North Carolina.

36 thoughts on “You Mean The Ones Who Actually Get Shit Done?

  1. On the other hand, I remember back in my college days (no, I didn’t ride a dinosaur back then) there was one gal who enjoyed getting dirty because it made her ‘FEEL’ like she was working – even though she wasn’t doing anything but going through the motions, and only for a short time at that.

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  2. I used to be a Teamster Car hauler. The truck I used to park at my house. One morning in winter, the truck refused to start because the fuel gelled. I called the company hotline and they said they’d send someone right out. It’s 3:30AM. About 4:30 a guy shows up. He’s covered in grease head to toe, worse than the picture of the mechanic in your pic. This is not an exaggeration. He was totally filthy. So I say to the guy, “been working all night, huh?” “No, he says, they woke me up”.

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  3. A field foreman is supposed to be a working boss in the field. One of the
    field foreman I worked under was NEVER dirty. The guy could bed after
    a shift and sleep in his work clothes. The guy would sit on his as on
    a five-gallon plastic bucket pretending to do paperwork. The only mark
    on the guy had to be a ring on his ass from sitting on the bucket.

    While working on an IR XLE compressor at the Redondo Beach power
    plant, the SoCal Edison maintenance manager came by and started leafing
    through my technical manual and started to laugh. The Introduction started
    with bullshit about always arriving in clean work clothes. He told me that
    he never met a mechanic worth his weight in shit if he arrived in a spot-
    less condition.

    Show me a Millwright or a mechanic who goes home with clean work
    clothes and I’ll show you a slacker!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m well into my 6th decade on this planet and I still have lifelong friends who call me “Dirt”, instead of my given name. Unless you’re working in an office/retail-type setting or are playing a sport that lacks contact with real earth, if you finish clean, IMHO, you haven’t given it your all.

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  5. Maybe. I knew a welder who would show up, change his clothes, put in a hard day, change back into his clean clothes, and go home clean. Nobody ever gave him shit for being tidy, and that shop was full of people who would have, if there was any reason to. I was in awe that someone could work all day and stay that clean. Ever look at pictures of people from 1900 or so, working stiffs? A lot of them stayed real clean too, somehow.

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  6. Place I used to work had a “Maintenance Supervisor” who spent almost all his time in his office, wearing a coat and stocking cap, and reading a paperback. He was there for about 6 months, and I don’t think he ever went out to where the work was.

    His replacement was the exact opposite. His first day was spent shoulder-deep in a DC drive cabinet, and his upper body was black by the end of the day. Terribly nice guy, too, who had no interest in office politics. If there was a big job, he was right in the middle of it with the crew.
    Sadly, his wife didn’t like the area, and he had to quit and move away.

    From the time he left to the time I left, two others had that job. Neither was anywhere near his league, and both played politics.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Gas station in high school never went home clean. Mostly outdoor manual labor jobs in the summers. After college white collar jobs. Never would play politics and it cost me but was worth it. Would like to catch some of my former politicking coworkers in a dark alley some day. Big boss one day said to me I heard your were a trouble maker. I said yeah I know. He knew I was a producer because the daily reports showed it. He liked me not that I cared.

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  7. The ONLY times I ever finished the day and only had to clean the palms of my hands were the dys we were working on the liquid N2 cold ends, rebuilding a hydraulic pump or transmission (Nitrogen does NOT like foreign matter.)

    ONLY.

    I’ve had days where I was so bad, I threw a tarp over the seat of the truck and met the guys in the wash bay for when you got back.

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  8. Working in PHNSY, I’ve turned in test paperwork with bloody/greasy hand prints on them.

    What Better Way To Prove That You Did The Test on A Submarine!!!

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    • I’ve done the same at Boeing. In fact I got to be known for it, much to the chagrin of the QA/QC guys that had to stamp off the stuff I just did stamped, and signed.

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  9. That is just grease,oil and dirt, wait until you have coffee ground feces from some poor bastard with colon cancer all over you, your hair and it seeps into your nostrils…. then get back to me. Another good one is soaked in amniotic fluid….shit stinks, baby has been shitting and pissing in it for nine months. Some dumb sumbitch in a psych ward covered in his/her feces and you have to tackle it to bring it under control. Yeah, get back to me.

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    • Working on a dairy is strangely similar to the inside of a hospital, it would seem. Cows shitting and pissing on you as you attempt to milk them from below (while trying to kick and stomp a mudhole in you), amniotic fluid and blood from assisting in calf birthing… Fun times. Fun times, indeed. At least we didn’t have to worry about crack addicts and meth heads attacking the staff.

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  10. Cederq, while in hospital recently, did you educate any of the young nursie girls in how to care for a grumpy geriatric? Sorry, that should have been: Nursing Sister Cederq.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Cederq, you have an unhealthy interest in the mating habits of macropods. Is this perchance, because you share the double, almost 90 degree bends that the males have in their penis, in order that they may copulate? That big tail that the female also has, makes life difficult for males when getting frisky.

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  12. The other side of that coin is the mechanic who gets so filthy dirty that he trashes the INSIDE of the car when he’s through working on it and pulls it out of the bay.

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  13. I was coming back from a 19-hour dispatch to a missile site where the sump pump had failed. Said pump is 140′ down at hte bottom of the launch tube, and catches all the nasty stuff that exists in various systems (oil, grease, etc.) and eventually finds its way to the bottom…
    I had to pump down the water level with a pump we drop down from the top of the tube, but of course it can’t pump out the sump the pump sits in – I had to unscrew the plate over the sump, then blindly reach in under the gunk and water and unbolt the pump. This meant I had to literally put the side of my face in the gunk to reach the nuts on the studs. My ear and hair were pretty crudded up by the time I got the new one in, and my uniform looked rather crappy. I stank.

    Drove back to base (each missile site is a MINIMUM of 25 miles from Minot AFB) and turned in the pump to CE to be refurbished, turned in the truck and tools to their appropriate places, and then did the paperwork for the next two hours – by that time all the gunk had dried and the smell wasn’t so bad. I looked like the guy in the picture… but a whole helluva lot less happy.

    Well, when turning in my paperwork and keys&codes, it’s 06:15 and walking down the hall is Major Frank Burns, in his spotless gleaming uniform, and he stops me, looks me over, and says, “Sergent, you are a disgrace to the Uniform!”. He didn’t realize just how close he came to dying on the spot. I looked up the hall – nobody – I looked down the hall – nobody – then informed him, “Major, with all due respect *to your rank*, I WORK FOR A LIVING!!” I then continued down the hall and never looked back. Fortunately (for him…) I never interacted with him again.

    Some people need a clue-by-four applied strategically to their head.

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  14. Pingback: Sunday Linkage « Bacon Time !!!!!!

  15. Im not a quintessential wrench monkey but I was proud to be in a bilge (as a topsider) when I was on a ship. I enjoyed running the mulcher room and people always saw me with a little “tinge” to me.

    I hated the folks that never had any soil to their coveralls. I knew a few like this that used to bitch about mine, but they had spent a decade plus in an office. (Had creases in their coveralls like a dbag).

    I liked having an actual tasking or a project. If I couldnt do it, I at least was trying to put something together. I liked being someone you could ask for a weird project. Supporting engineering and the snipe country was a proud moment, even as an E5.

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  16. Times and expertise change a lot. My grandad was a mechanic apprentice at age 14 at the Renault factory near Paris (France), by 16 he was a qualified master mechanic for the company. By 24 he was operating his own mechanic repair shop (around 1920) and by the time I was a wee kid (around 1958) would watch him run his shop and do work on mostly french and brit cars. The comment is about his comportment, He wore a suit and tie. At the shop, the suit coat would come off and a white (yep, white) tunic of the type you see most doctors use, was put on. He somehow was able to work on engines and other parts of the car all day long without getting a spec of dirt on it. Don’t ask me how, I cannot do it even with far more modern and better equipped shop than he ever had. Granted cars had ROOM inside back then.

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  17. When I was a kid, [12]I was on a job working on a retube of an absorber[chiller] with an animal of a mechanic in the Denver and Rio Grande building. We were going out to the truck for more tools and were in the elevator when a junior executive type entered. The pussy eyeballed the filthy mechanic [NOT a technician’ and moved away from Marshall. Well, Marshall stepped towards the pansey and he again tried to distance himself. Well ol’ Marshall hemmed him in against the elevator cab wall and looked over at his face and with a white smile stated : “I make more money than you do”. Mr clean hit the door open button and headed towards daylight. Marshall was always my hero.

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  18. I’ve worked on my own stuff since my first mini bike at eight years old. That’s when I learned to rebuild a carb. Never was a professional mechanic. I became a meat cutter. It’s a different kind of crud. I remember getting home and taking a piss and having my tighty whities covered in blood from pulling the big chunks of meat to me to prep them for making small chunks. And checking for cuts anyway. Just in case. One day at work, during my shovelhead years, I remarked that what I liked most about cutting lamb was how good the fat was at getting the grease off my hands and out from under my fingernails.

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