In 1978 I worked for Inland Steel. <\/p>\n
I worked for quite a few folks during the course of my apprenticeship. Most of them were decent guys, and I liked them all. One who was a particular favorite was a guy I’ll call Tiny. In fact, everyone called him Tiny. If you DIDN’T call him tiny, he was likely to catch you up in his fists (they were about the size of 9 lb Armor canned hams) and crush you like a bug. <\/p>\n
Anyway, Tiny would have been a defensive lineman for some big ten school (or so he said) (I have no idea what a defensive lineman is) – if he hadn’t had trouble with his affinity for Bacardi and Bolivian marching Powder. Anyway, he was a big, strong, and remarkably well educated guy. Who had two modes: Nap (Bacardi 151 rum) and do it all (Bolivian marching powder)<\/p>\n
Tiny had a specific and intense hatred for Barry Manilow. If you brught in a tape and put it on the office intercom he would burst into the office like a crazed John Belushi and rip the tape out, pull the tape out of the cassette, and string it around the shop like so many party streamers. It was a bad idea to cross this line. <\/p>\n
One day, when Tiny was in “Nap” mode we discovered something interesting. The radio was playing “grazinginthegrassisagasbabycanyoudigit”. Some loud noise woke tiny, and he immediately sang the whole song, start to finish. It got to be a regular thing, we’d play some song, and hit the picnic table with a wrench, and Tiny would wake up and sing the song.<\/p>\n
SO one night, midnight shift, I leaned close to Tiny’s ear, and whispered “oh Mandy. You came and you gave without taking.. etc.”<\/p>\n
I walked out of the lunchroom and slammed the door. <\/p>\n