Our dad used to force us to spend our summers and winter breaks working as grunt labor on the floor of the factory at his branch of Pfizer when he worked there. It was miserable, it was all paranoid housewives, repressed homosexuals, and terrified immigrants. It was really, really weird. And most of the jobs were backbreaking or mindnumbing.
Gregg decided to rebel against the strict dress code one day by wearing shorts. Inexplicably, he also felt the best option for shorts was to hack apart a perfectly good pair of khaki pants using a razor blade.
Gregg also has partial blindness in one eye, so he has no depth perception. So his view of well tailored homemade shorts was one leg halfway down the calf and the other hugging his nuts, with both ends uneven and tattered.
It was awesome.
To be fair, I was the first work stoppage on Line 1 ** at the Pfizer plant in over 40 years, when I foolishly tried to clear a piece of industrial machinery clogged with Visine bottles by reaching in and removing them with my hand while the machine was on. This was a foolish decision on my part, but to be fair, I had been sound asleep while standing at my post when I woke up and saw the machine clogged, so I groggily reached in and grabbed the bottles, hacking apart my left pinky and necessitating stitches.
** Line 1 has been known for decades as "The Women's Line," since the only people who work on it are frail old women and, apparently, my father's sons.