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Getting information at bars

Stop by a local bar at shift change and get answers for all our questions! I bet the line workers would be thirsty and three beers is greater than an NDA. I'd do it but I'm 1,500 miles away!
It might be easier for me to bribe the bartender, because I don't drink alcohol :confused:.

I love the idea though. My father was an expert at that, and would gather intel all the time that way. He had lots of stories of getting information. If he were still alive, maybe he could teach me (he died in 1984). I'm the opposite. Maybe I should sneak in some synth, and pretend to get tipsy. But I don't even know what drinking is supposed to sound like when talking!

Ok, here's the story I remember most. After WWII, my father was drafted to Fort Ord. Before the first day, he went to the local bar(s), and was able to gain information on what happens. I forget why he asked or whatever. Anyway, the information is that the first question you get as a draftee is "do you want to drive a truck or dig a ditch?", and everyone answers. They take notes or group you by answer, and everyone who wants to dig a ditch is made to drive trucks, and everyone who wants to drive trucks has to dig a ditch. My father preferred to drive trucks, so when the next day came and they indeed asked the question, he answered, he wants to dig a ditch (a lie), and everyone else said they wanted to drive a truck (truthfully). The army made everyone else dig a ditch, and they made my father drive truck. Apparently, this almost never happened that only one person "wanted to dig ditches", so to stay true to their anti-desire ways, the army only allowed my father to drive and they had no relief for him, and as a result, he was so busy driving trucks, (I bet you can see the ridiculous lie (probably to my mother, a really frightable woman) that makes me think this story is fake) that he never actually fired a gun, but because the paperwork required that every army member learn how to fire a gun, the army leaders had to fake up the paperwork for him and say what score he had for his firing tests and such. The story goes that they accidentally fudged too high, so they had a big ceremony thrown for my father for being able to have great gunmanship, so he went up to receive the award, and everyone there except the outsiders knew that he had never fired a weapon, and no one said anything at all during the ceremony (they kept his secret). That's sleuthery, malfeasance, wimpiness, incompetence, adherence to paperwork, and honor to comrades all in one story. It tracks a little, since my father never taught me about guns, but was great at driving. Thus me and TMC. Sad, eh? But I think it might have been a lie, all the same.
 
It might be easier for me to bribe the bartender, because I don't drink alcohol :confused:.

I love the idea though. My father was an expert at that, and would gather intel all the time that way. He had lots of stories of getting information. If he were still alive, maybe he could teach me (he died in 1984). I'm the opposite. Maybe I should sneak in some synth, and pretend to get tipsy. But I don't even know what drinking is supposed to sound like when talking!

Ok, here's the story I remember most. After WWII, my father was drafted to Fort Ord. Before the first day, he went to the local bar(s), and was able to gain information on what happens. I forget why he asked or whatever. Anyway, the information is that the first question you get as a draftee is "do you want to drive a truck or dig a ditch?", and everyone answers. They take notes or group you by answer, and everyone who wants to dig a ditch is made to drive trucks, and everyone who wants to drive trucks has to dig a ditch. My father preferred to drive trucks, so when the next day came and they indeed asked the question, he answered, he wants to dig a ditch (a lie), and everyone else said they wanted to drive a truck (truthfully). The army made everyone else dig a ditch, and they made my father drive truck. Apparently, this almost never happened that only one person "wanted to dig ditches", so to stay true to their anti-desire ways, the army only allowed my father to drive and they had no relief for him, and as a result, he was so busy driving trucks, (I bet you can see the ridiculous lie (probably to my mother, a really frightable woman) that makes me think this story is fake) that he never actually fired a gun, but because the paperwork required that every army member learn how to fire a gun, the army leaders had to fake up the paperwork for him and say what score he had for his firing tests and such. The story goes that they accidentally fudged too high, so they had a big ceremony thrown for my father for being able to have great gunmanship, so he went up to receive the award, and everyone there except the outsiders knew that he had never fired a weapon, and no one said anything at all during the ceremony (they kept his secret). That's sleuthery, malfeasance, wimpiness, incompetence, adherence to paperwork, and honor to comrades all in one story. It tracks a little, since my father never taught me about guns, but was great at driving. Thus me and TMC. Sad, eh? But I think it might have been a lie, all the same.
My dad swore the army held up a iron skillet (frying pan to some) - and anyone who couldn't identify it was made a cook. My Dad lied about his age to join the airforce, since he couldn't swim they put him on an air-sea rescue (PT boat with one machine gun) I suspect they figured since he couldn't swim he'd work harder to keep the boat form sinking. Training? In the deserts of Utah, of course. He spent the war at Gitmo - never snorkeled and never sailed - too afraid of the water. When he did make extra money, he bought small cabin cruise (23' Uni-flite?) and I got to see Lake Powell fill up. amazing.
 
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iwannam3

Active Member
Aug 8, 2016
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Washington
My dad swore the army held up a iron skillet (frying pan to some) - and anyone who couldn't identify it was made a cook. My Dad lied about his age to join the airforce, since he couldn't swim they put him on an air-sea rescue (PT boat with one machine gun) I suspect they figured since he couldn't swim he'd work harder to keep the boat form sinking. Training? In the deserts of Utah, of course. He spent the war at Gitmo - never snorkeled and never sailed - too afraid of the water. When he did make extra money, he bought small cabin cruise (23' Uni-flite?) and I got to see Lake Powell fill up. amazing.

My brother is an electronic genius and they made him a cook, took a guy who couldn't read and made him a radar tech. Go figure.

PS I worked at Uniflte in '73 or so when they made the 23 footers.

The questions I would ask after buying a round or two include:
What's the hold up?
Vin sequence & options?
Morale of the line workers after a long 6 day work week
Turnover?
Is the line run like GM or Toyota? ie Toyota stop the line and fix the underlying problem or GM, shove it down the line to be fixed later.
Why do simple obvious things like mis-aligned trim come off the line?
 

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