Well, yes, butWhat did he do about the briefcase? I must know!
And now my story.
My Dad is an engineer, and he was once helping with the construction of a road. His job mostly involved placing wooden stakes in precise locations to help guide the machinery. Thing is, the stakes needed to be EXACTLY precise, or the road would come out lopsided or something, and then they'd have to tear the wonky area up and start over.
Problem. Every few nights, someone finds it hilarious to move the construction barriers out of the way, and drive their car through the stakes, with the obvious result being lots of broken stakes. So Dad and his engineer lackeys had to measure the locations again, and put the stakes in again. This happened many times.
Finally, Dad had enough, so shortly before quitting time, he got himself a long, thin steel pole. He buried it directly behind one of the stakes, with about four or five feet of it securely underground, and another foot and a half or so sticking straight up, concealed from view by the stake. Then he went home.
When he got back the next morning, sure enough, the stakes were smashed again. Until he reached a certain point. The stake was trash, sure, but the pole was now bent at a strange angle... and the area surrounding the pole was littered with large oil slicks, chunks of metal, and various other things from the underside of some unfortunate bastard's car. Judging by the look of things, the victim had to call a towtruck... to the middle of a construction site... where it would be obvious what happened.
Dad nonchalantly dug up the pole, threw it into the scrap heap, and was greeted by his boss, who was dumbfounded as to why someone's car apparently disembowled itself. Dad felt slightly guilty, but more than slightly pleased.
The stakes were never broken again.
(,
Thu 23 Oct 2003, 18:30,
archived)
And now my story.
My Dad is an engineer, and he was once helping with the construction of a road. His job mostly involved placing wooden stakes in precise locations to help guide the machinery. Thing is, the stakes needed to be EXACTLY precise, or the road would come out lopsided or something, and then they'd have to tear the wonky area up and start over.
Problem. Every few nights, someone finds it hilarious to move the construction barriers out of the way, and drive their car through the stakes, with the obvious result being lots of broken stakes. So Dad and his engineer lackeys had to measure the locations again, and put the stakes in again. This happened many times.
Finally, Dad had enough, so shortly before quitting time, he got himself a long, thin steel pole. He buried it directly behind one of the stakes, with about four or five feet of it securely underground, and another foot and a half or so sticking straight up, concealed from view by the stake. Then he went home.
When he got back the next morning, sure enough, the stakes were smashed again. Until he reached a certain point. The stake was trash, sure, but the pole was now bent at a strange angle... and the area surrounding the pole was littered with large oil slicks, chunks of metal, and various other things from the underside of some unfortunate bastard's car. Judging by the look of things, the victim had to call a towtruck... to the middle of a construction site... where it would be obvious what happened.
Dad nonchalantly dug up the pole, threw it into the scrap heap, and was greeted by his boss, who was dumbfounded as to why someone's car apparently disembowled itself. Dad felt slightly guilty, but more than slightly pleased.
The stakes were never broken again.