Uneaten Sandwich

[Phillip Ellis 0]

PERSONAL LOG

June 4, 2003

 

>Begin Log <

 

For the past 5 weeks, Phillip had been on a relatively small team constructing the internal lighting systems for the Challenger. The work had been slow and easy, no rush. But following the announcement from Commodore Moose—things had moved to a feverish pitch. The team that had been comprised of only 4 workers building the lighting on section at a time, was now a team of 160 building 40 sections at a time.

 

The idea, or so his foreman said, was for everything to be built at one time then put together in the final stages. Quite the undertaking.

 

Today Philip and Team 6 were preparing lighting for main engineering

 

It was 1500 hours and Phillip had been working since 0500 this morning. He needed a break. “Hey Tom, I am going to grab something to eat,” he said to one of the other guys working next to him . “You think y’all can manage with out me?”

 

Tom nodded to Phillip. “Sure, you worked during the lunch break so go right ahead.”

 

Phillip smiled and started towards the lunch room. The facility was huge and the lunch room was a long ways off, giving Philip time to think. He’d barely graduated from the University of Alabama wen he was hired by General Electric and put on the Challanger Project. Now less than a month later he was working at their assembly plant in Spokane, Washington.

 

Philip sighed deeply. He was barely 22 and already he was a working stiff. “Some life this is.”

 

He made his way into cafeteria. He ordered a grilled cheese and bowl of soup. A few minutes later the chef slid a plate across the counter. Phillip carried his ‘lunch’ to a table and sat down to eat.

 

He was no more than three bites into the grilled cheese when Tom came walking in. “Hey Phil we need your help with the trundle buffer return switch. Care to come give us a hand.”

 

Phillip wanted to eat, he also knew that if he didn’t do it and they screwed something up, he would fill bad about. He put the sandwich down and headed back to the grindstone. Such is the life of the working stiff.

 

>End Log<