Chapter 11

Damn, the burbs are eating it all up down here. Not sure I like north San Diego county at all. I thought Vista was supposed to be an agricultural area. Can’t believe that Sharon wanted me not to ride my bike. If they want a corporate image, they can get their own ass down here to look all pretty. Here’s the exit. Fuck this, looks like south LA. Wall-to-wall business. There it is, our first contract. Let’s see if these fuckers are for real.

“Welcome to Xentek, Mister Watson. This is Larry Markson, and this is Steve Hanson. They will be your liaison for our initial contract.”

Holy cow, that Larry guy is one tall fucker. A bit chubby, bet he could have been NBA stuff. This Steve guy seems to be the one that has it together.

“Hello. Is the spec still good?”

“No changes.”

“Good. Someone please sign this and initial each page.”

Fuck. Don’t like that deer-in-the-headlights look. Looks like this Steve guy is taking charge.

“Larry, take him to final test. I will get Herb to sign this.”

“Nice bike, Mark. That your standard mode of transportation?”

“Yep.”

“I’d get one, but my wife would throw a fit.”

Yeah, whatever. Shut up, and grow some balls.

“Uh, yeah. I see at least three product lines being tested, and your techs are doing test data sheets for each unit. Is the ATP part of the test data?”

“No, the data sheets stay with the unit. Each station has an ATP copy.”

“Who does your cal?”

“A company out of Carlsbad.”

“ISO accredited?”

“Yes.”

“I see NRTL marks on most of your products. How often do they audit?”

“Depends on the product line. For medical, every quarter. Other products is annual. Except CSA; they show up at least twice a year.”

“What factory tests do the NRTLs require?”

“We hi-pot everything, plus ground leakage on medical.”

“Have the requested documents ready?”

“On my desk. I’ll them.”

I watched the tall Markson guy walk off the production floor. His lackadaisical attitude was a contrast to the frenzied pace of their final test and assembly lines. I would have to sort out these differences later.

I continued to watch the Xentek final test area, a convergence zone of semi-organized chaos. The techs and assembly line workers appeared focused and reasonably efficient considering the manual process, but there was still a fuck-ton of wasted motion.

So what about the rest of this zoo? I’m gonna guess that the drafters are in that area. Damn, almost twenty people cranking out drawings. ALS only had eleven, and that was for complex gov projects, and a company twice the size of this. What the fuck are these drafters actually doing? And what the fuck are those other people doing? This body count is huge for a company that makes simple linear power supplies. And with a volume maybe two million bucks per month.

It’s not difficult to see why they had brought in an ‘expert’ (moi?) to automate some of these bodies out the front door. If they were willing to bear the up-front costs, Darth Mark Watson would be waving his light sabre and slicing through their body count.

Ah yes, the tall and chubby Larry Markson returns with the requested documents. It’s good to see that they did not bogart the paper. Fuck, turning pale from hefting two boxes of files. Fucking pathetic. That’s right, asshole, put those boxes onto a test bench that being used. That test tech don’t look happy. Get used to not being happy, guy. I’m about to bring your little world down. I imagined myself as Darth Watson riding through the front door on a horse of the apocalypse. A bit dramatic, but I like the image.

Taking the boxes to an unoccupied bench, I pushed back the test equipment to scatter documents across the bench to do a quick inventory of the contents. I zoomed in on the TUV test reports for the two model series of medical products currently in production. And sure as shit, there was more than just leakage and hi-pot required for the factory production tests. Either this Larry guy was full of shit or he was ignorant of Notified Body and NRTL test requirements. Really shitty way to start off a business relationship with a contractor. Fucking ass-bites. Whatever.

So this is the big cheese of engineering? This fucker must be three times my mass. Almost everyone here is a porker.

“As per your engineering manager’s request, here is a prelim executive summary.”

“Manager’s request?”

“Yes, sir. It was not in the statement of work. I banged it out last night as a courtesy.”

“Who requested the summary report?”

“Steve Hanson.”

“Judy, please get Steve in here.”

Well fuck me to tears. Their left hand does not know what the right hand is doing. If it gets worse than this, gonna have to bail on the fuckers after we do the next contract line item. If they’re still fucked up, I’ll walk once I get a sign-off.

“Steve, you asked for a preliminary report?”

“Uh ... Yes, Larry and myself wanted to see where we are before we go further.”

“To what end?”

“Uh, mostly cap-ex costs and personnel requirements.”

“I see. It’s two pages. Read it now. Aloud.”

Well this could get interesting, in a fucked-up sort of way. Bring it on Mister Steve. Show me what you got, let’s see you keep your Spock poker face.

“ ... Finally, both proposed and existing work-flow will not meet the process specified per Xentek’s ISO 9001 accreditation.”

“Do you agree with the summary, Steve?”

“Generally, Herb, but I think that this report misses some key points in our...”

“If you believe that the summary appears to be factually correct, then no need for further discussion. We will wait for the full report. Thank you, Steve.”

So, maybe the big cheese knew that his people were running a wild west show, which would make me the hired gun slinger. This could be a big fuckin mess. Maybe not. Dave and me are gonna talk about this shit before we agree to the second phase.

“Personnel, material, test equipment. I’ll need specifics for Phase Two.”

“That was in the conditions of acceptability for your statement of work. You signed it.”

“Hmmm, so I did. So let’s discuss support requirements.”

Yes. So you did, you old fool. I’m outta here. Put this in your pipe and smoke it.

“I’m over my allotted time per my employer. This meeting is on my time. Please reference the signed contract. The full report will be at this site by COB Thursday. Good day, sir.”

My seabag was strapped to my bike, I was ready to get the fuck outa Dodge once I checked out of crazyville. But here is this Larry guy standing in front of my machine. What the fuck does the tall, gangling, and chubby want?

“Mark? Have a few minutes?”

“What ya need, Larry? Your boss has the prelim. I’m done here.”

“Mark, we’re not interfering. But, you need to know that many of our employees are in fear of their livelihood.”

“I’m not part of those decisions. Look, man. I do not even know if your boss will go forward with any of the proposals.”

“You should keep in mind that your recommendations will affect the structure of Xentek.”

“Look, man, I’m a technical guy, not a business guy, so this stuff has no meaning to me. I do know that a company that does not keep improving, will get eaten up by the big guys or eventually dies. My boss sent me here to help you guys improve. I have no control over anything else.”

“I understand, but please try to remember that there are people’s lives depending on what your company suggests.”

“I’m just a peon, man. But I’ll do what I can.”

Geezus Christo. He’s starting in with another sob story. Let’s see him talk over the bike when I crank my machine over. That will drown out his whiny pleading.

I pushed through afternoon traffic, rushing down state route 78, trying to get on I-5 before traffic went to total dogshit. As I drove up I-5 through Pendleton, I was thinking about my few days observing the various Xentek production operations, They were supposedly a tech company, but they sure as shit did not embrace new tech. It gave me a different realization of the American workplace and the American worker. They obviously did not know shit, or were in denial. Too many businesses thinking like its the 60s. What the fuck is with these people? Don’t they know what is happening?

I continued to dangerously zoom through and split traffic through Orange County as I contemplated western idiocy and ignorance, knowing that most workers were without a clue as to the future of American businesses. They thought that all they had to do was come to work every day and draw a paycheck, and life will continue as always. Life will not be rolling in tits for many an American worker by the time the 21st century rolls in. Don’t they remember what Nixon did in China the last decade?

Life returned to, what I would like to consider, normal after the three months of hell spent on commutes to Vista and dealing with the employees of Xentek. While back at Dave’s hacienda and working at The Shack, I was building almost two boards per week, surfing every day, and playing with Sharon’s tits almost every night, and sometimes days. And Dave was teaching me his meditation shit.

As for the Xentek Corporation folks, I had started them on the road to a different future by setting up two ATE stations. They studied our reports and re-directed workflows similar to what I had observed on the ALS production lines. My coup de grace was delivered when I trained four inexperienced junior techs to run the ATE on the product models that had previously been ‘reserved’ for the most senior and competent Xentek technicians.

By the time our little LLC enterprise had received our final paycheck, Xentek had built another two ATE stations and had laid off several dozen assembly line workers and several techs. Peanuts to peanut butter. I gave those fuckers less than ten years until they were either bought out, or production was shipped off to parts unknown.

“Eight hundred freaking dollars, Mark!?!”

Geez, calm your tits, woman. It’s only money. And it’s money I fucking earned.

“It’s the future for in-house test. Pay it now, or pay triple later. Did you see the long board that I finished today?”

“Yes, it is beautiful. I’m thinking about keeping it for myself ... Did you glass it differently than the others?”

Hell yeah! Sharon is so easy to misdirect. Yeah baby, let those tits glide and sway...

“But ... Hmm, I think that...”

Shit. She’s thinking again. Them tits are way too nice to caught up in any intellectual uproars.

“Mark? We need to talk to Janice and Dave tonight.”

“Okay, Y’all let me know what ya decide. Wanna catch a few after we close up?”

“No surfing this evening. We’re going to close early, then I’ll call everybody in for a meeting.”

Yeah, right. Whatever. You may have outfuckingstanding hooters, but I’m not a loyal subject within your majesty’s domain.

I shrugged, secured the aft hatch. Fuck me. It’s the rear door, asshole. So choose a board. Yeah, this 70 inch fish should do it. Time to cut up a few waves. Why is she looking at me that way? She’s closing up, so the workday is done. Whatever. Go to your silly-ass meeting. I may or may not be there.

“Could I get you to check something for me?”

Yeah, I’d like to check out a few things on you, woman. When the fuck did she start working this beach? Never seen her before. Looks too young to be hired as a full-time lifeguard.

“What ya need?”

“Seen you running the south end a lot during May and June. We have reports that a channel is forming with a mild rip. About one hundred yards south of the pier. We only have three on duty today; can’t spare anyone.”

“No problem. I’ll take a look. See ya.”

Someone is on drugs or crazy. No fuckin way. Winds out of the northeast, so should be nothing to the south. Maroons.

Whoa. Where did that fucker come from? Over two meters. Maybe I should go further south ... Yep, something grabbed me. Never saw any foam. Let’s see where this rip takes me. So where the fuck is this current coming from? It’s pulling southwest? That’s it. Oh shit, who the fuck is that maroon?

“Help!”

Shit, gonna have to get him from the side.

“Dude, settle down. Grab the front of my board. Stay in the water ... No, man, don’t try to swim in. Just hang with me, dude.”

Total fucking idiot. Maybe I should let the fucker drown before he can reproduce ... Nah, too late for that. Too many people watching. Shit, looks like the maroon gets to live another day.

“We’re gonna go south, parallel to the beach a little, then we’ll go in. You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Just tired. Thanks.”

Fuck, its a kid.

“Just a little more to beach. Tell me when you can stand up, but don’t release the board.”

“Okay.”

Shit, what’s with the crowd? And who the fuck is that old guy? Get the fuck away.

“Let go of my board, man ... I said, let go, asshole...”

Fuck you, you asked for it ... Damn, didn’t mean to connect like that. I bet that hurt. Whatever. Need to get this board back to The Shack while everybody’s gathered around the boy. I’m outta here.

Shit, they look pissed. Nyato is happy to see me. I’ll sit at the table and pretend that I’m interested in their business dweebness. Right after I get a beer.

“Nice of you to join us, Mark.”

Geez, keep those big tits relaxed, woman.

“Hi, Janice ... Mark, did ya know that rips were forming south of the pier?”

“Yeah? That’s unusual. It catch anyone?”

“Yeah, one kid. But he got in okay. So what’s up?”

“You want eight hundred for this graphical test programming system?

Damn, she’s getting right into it...

“No. Its about three hundred for LabVIEW, and about two hundred for various libraries and VIs, and about three hundred for a data acquisition board.”

“So you think this represents the future dev platform for our company?”

“Nah. This shit that they’re calling ‘visual’ programming is for losers. It’s only gonna be big for internal corporate use.”

“Internal use?”

“Yeah. Quick and dirty stuff by scientists and test engineers that want to automate a test without having to play with the nut and bolts of a programming language and having to learn low-level hardware control or IEEE-488 shit.”

“So it’s essentially our competition?”

“Yep. If ya can’t beat the moroons, join them.”

“How?”

“I played with that shit last two or three weeks in the physics lab. And guess what, sports fans? It’s fucking write-only.”

“Speak english, Mark. What is ‘write only’?”

“Anything using more than three or four VIs can’t be ‘read’. There is no english source code available to the base system; it’s all diagrammatic. And once you get into anything of reasonable complexity, it takes super-human effort to debug. It’s a programming spider’s web.”

“If it’s such a quagmire, how will we be able to debug and fix a customer’s system?”

“We won’t. To attack that problem, I wrote a simple g-code tokenizer and parser. I’m gonna make flow charts from the parser output. As soon as we figure out their shit, we fix their system directly, if possible. If not, we write the fix in C.”

“But you said there is no human-readable code. Now you say you’ll write it in C.”

“Ah yes, grasshopper. The NI system itself is written in C. So it can import C object code if you buy the add-on dev tools.”

“So why won’t the customer just do this?”

“That’s why they bought LabVIEW. They did not want to be a code monkey. Or maybe they’re just too stupid. Either way, it’s a door for the big labs using this shit. That’s my theory, it up to y’all to exercise your mastery of business dweebness and find a way into these monster labs. You agree, Nyota?”

Dave is nodding in agreement. The women-folk still seem doubtful, but it least I shut down further comments from the four presiding tits. Most importantly, Nyota seems to agree with my rationale. On the subject of fur, where’s the idiot dog? Haven’t seen him for at least two days.

“Where’s Mrs Markson’s doggy?”

“He’s been staying near her. She’s not doing too well.”

“Yeah? Not good. Shouldn’t we call her family? You see her lately?”

“Took some soup to her when I got home. I called both of her daughters, but they are out east.”

“Dude, don’t fuck around with the old gal. We need to take her to the doctor.”

“Already there, man. Made an appointment for tomorrow.”

“Fuck. Remind me not to get old. Want me take her?”

“We’ll both do it.”

Why the fuck are the woman-folk looking at me so weird? Did I fart or something? Whatever.

“Damn. Looks like the whole neighborhood turned out.”

“Lots of oldsters in the area. Some of these geezers have been living here over twenty years. They all know each other.”

What are we gonna do with the urn, Dave?”

“Wait for her daughters. They’re supposed to be out here within a week or two. It’s their decision.”

“The dog is totally bummed. He won’t leave me. What should we do, Dave? Do you mind if we keep him? He’s used to hanging around us.”

“Was already thinking that. Mark, how about taking him to work with you? At least for a week or two.”

“Good idea, man ... hey, furbag, wanna walk down the beach?”

Poor doggy. Lost his best bud. I’d also be totally bummed out.

What’s with the idiot doggy? Whoa, the gun and badge gang is coming to visit.

“Shit. Doesn’t look good, Dave. I haven’t done anything. You?”

“Nada, dude. Just be cool...”

Fuck me. Wonder if I should go call the feebies?

“Is one of you David S. Khunle?”

“That’s me.”

“Is one of you Mark T. Watson?”

No, asshole. I’m fucking Batman.

“Yep.”

“May I see some identification?”

Yeah, mister ace detective, that’s right, I have a beard now. You’re barney. Try not to hurt your little brain.

“I am here to serve the unlawful detainer for two one five seventh street.”

“Say what? The owner died about three weeks ago. The place has been empty, other than her daughter; but she was only there for three days. You people need to contact her daughters. I got a phone number if ya want, officer.”

“You say the place is empty?”

“Haven’t seen anyone living there. Most of the owner’s stuff is still in the house. Like I say, you need to talk to her kids.”

“Do you have access?”

“Not any more. Gave the spare key to the owner’s daughter.”

“Is it okay if we look?”

“It’s not my place. Can’t give you permission for a place that’s not mine.”

“Not your place? You are on on the deed. The quit claim was issued in February. Have either of you been contacted by the estate lawyer or the county?”

“Nope. So what the heck is going on? And why would Mark Watson be contacted?”

“Mister Watson is a beneficiary of the estate. As for these proceedings, I am not certain. But the estate lawyer paid the fee to serve and enforce the detainer. Why don’t we take a look?”

I shrugged at Dave. Shit is getting weird. Very weird. What the fuck, why not? Let’s take a look.