I was working at the solder factory. I'd only been there less than a year and already gotten myself up to my eyeballs in controversy. Luckily, it wasn't my fault. The owners gave me a break, and I got moved to Engineering for 2 years while they cleaned out the IT department. I was still on a 6-month probation in Engineering and needed to keep my nose clean at all costs.
One day, I was walking across the plant floor and got waylaid by intense abominable cramping. The closest restroom was the men's locker room. I headed there. Yikes! It was one of those trips that make you wish for a rope to hold onto. The gas was spectacular. I was on my 3rd flush when the bell went off at the end of shift, and everyone started piling in to change and go home. I'm back in the stalls, and I hear one guy after another start gagging. Finally, one guy had enough!
"Denny! You SOB! I'm sick and tired of this! This is your last $HI! you M@$@$ F#$@#! " My name's not Denny, btw.
It turns out the 1st shift supervisor was a bit of a prankster. Denny was known for farting prowess and frequently did things like farting in small conference rooms and out in the booth attached to the casting platform. Folks had obviously gotten tired of it-- this guy in particular. Mind you, I was a soft, squishy office type by comparison. These guys were some of the hardest men I ever worked with. I expected to get my soft squishy a$$ beat to a pulp. This guy got increasingly worked up and started pounding on the stall door. I finally decided that I was not getting anything done in the stall. It was time to take what was coming.
I think it was the uniform. If you worked on the floor you had the gray 100% cotton uniform with your name on it. I had those, but I was working in the office that week and worn the engineer's uniform that had a powder blue oxford cloth shirt. You had to wear 100% cotton if you were around the casters, because polyester burns easier and sticks to the skin. The blue uniform marked me as management, even though I wasn't. Anyhow, I brought my trousers up, tucked in and met my fate. I opened the stall door. Mind you, I'm 6'4" and this guy was rather small. I probably outweighed him by 75 lbs and was a head taller. I was probably going down, but it was going to be a tough chore for someone.
There were gasps from everyone. I was not Denny. I was just the new office schlump in Engineering. Most guys just turned away and acted like they were uninvolved. The guy who had been doing all the threatening fell limp. He was sure he was getting fired or getting his a$$ beat.
"I thought you were Denny," he said.
"Don't worry," I replied. "I really am sorry for the trouble for the cloud. I got caught short coming back from Aluminum."
From then on, work was filled with rumors of the big confrontation in the Men's Locker Room, and how I'd subdued the angry mob-- nothing of the sort, but when the legend is better than the truth and all that. They said I looked ready to kill. Denny came to me later and acknowledged that I was the new King of Farts, and he was stepping down. My guess is that he had pushed to the point where he really was going to get his a$$ beat if he let fly again. I acquired a strange kind of street cred in the plant that stuck with me for the next decade.
