Norbert the trainee

[hairyspin]

The following thread is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any organisation or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Norbert trembled slightly in the staff canteen, waiting to start his first day at Developers Inc. Whatever the day held, it was bound to be different from his last job in the local authority’s canteen. You Norbert? asked a gruff man in dishevelled overalls, I’m the First Supervisor; this way, son. Following him, Norbert noticed clumps of wool dropping from the man’s clothing. Odd, he thought, don’t they build things here? What’s with the livestock? The man handed him a new set of overalls: This is your work area: ask if you get stuck or look the wiki and with that the supervisor waddled off.

In front of Norbert was a bare workbench and a large toolbox. The discreet badge on top bore the legend “Gmax”. Opening the top he found some vaguely familiar objects: I’m supposed to know what to do with this, am I? Huh! he thought, replacing the teapot. As another drawer opened, a long wallet of implements unrolled over the bench and down towards the floor; “Modifiers” read the drawer front: Tessellate? FFD? XForm? Wot?? Hurriedly, Norbert rolled them back into the box.

All around him were the sounds of work. Mutterings. Curses. Inchoate babbling. Cries of despair and (less frequently) jubilant shouts: YESSSSS!! Two men were arguing loudly on one side: one in a fur-lined parka, the other a poncho. Norbert listened closely then shook his head: no, for all he knew they were speaking Polish - backwards!

Are you having problems? The speaker was a genial elderly man and his shirt collar didn’t seem to have a button. How does he put that on in the morning? wondered Norbert. Do you know what you want to build? asked the newcomer. Er, think I’d like to make wheels that go up and down, you know? The senior modeller – for he it was – smiled gently and with just a few tools from the box produced an elegant oleo and left wheel assembly in moments. Gosh, thanks! stammered Norbert. You’re welcome, now try it yourself and after an hour or two’s fiddling a wheel and oleo began to take shape.

Suddenly an idea struck him: next to the light and power switches above his bench was a large red button labelled “Mirror”. Tentatively he pushed and two things happened: his two hours’ work disappeared from the end of the bench and reappeared at the other, back to front – and a klaxon sounded loud and long. How do I shut it up? What do I do? he panicked as a crowd of workers gathered round: they didn’t look pleased. That button’s painted red for a reason, tha knaws! growled one. You’re new here, we don’t do that! snarled another. A third, with a German accent, opened the long wallet and pointed out the implement named “Mirror”. Use this one instead, ja? Ze other one will screw you up and with a wink, he pushed the klaxon reset on the wall.

During lunch break Norbert wandered around some other work areas. There was such a variety of projects under way; in some areas he struggled over great heaps of rocks and soil, in others he had to duck low under fuselages. Yet more areas had work that was hard to make out, they were so festooned with cobwebs, and his sneakers left prints in the dust. As the hooter sounded, people wandered back to their benches; Norbert just glimpsed the German as he disappeared inside a structure marked “Douglas Aircraft Corporation. Crew: 2 persons”. There’s hardly room for one he thought as he caught the flash of vertex welding.

Gimme a hand to wheel this out, will ya? A young lad was bouncing with excitement next to a gleaming business jet, resplendent in polished chrome and an eye-catching metallic paint job, every flush rivet and seam beautifully detailed. Wow! thought Norbert. Outside the rain was falling, and to Norbert’s surprise both finish and details washed off in moments, leaving a plain matt grey. As he helped the crestfallen youth push the model back inside he noticed a number of other workers watching them; no-one spoke a word, but every face said Told you so. Waiting at the bench was the Second Supervisor: You didn’t bake it, did you! Start again and this time, map it! he barked, and to Norbert: Back to work, I want that gear animated today!

The left oleo folded up and down happily, but the right waggled all over the place; it was quite unhinged. Pivots said a voice, you need to align them right. Looking round, what Norbert saw first was an enormous set of eyebrows, silver-grey. Is that titanium alloy? he wondered. Change the x position to its negative; I mean change the sign, yeah? the stranger suggested. Oh and you want to do the same with the angles, well some of them, mostly z if I remember right and sometimes y, okay? That’s if you’re in World, not Local, although it’s usually View and you gotta change that too. Come over and see my rig if you get a moment, I’m working on something really cool right now, and with that the stranger was gone. Pivots? What exactly did he say? wondered Norbert, but by now he had opened the last tray in the box, marked “Help”. Right, he thought after a while, let’s try this.

Hey, that worked: what did I just do? The right oleo swung smoothly up and down: job done! Now where did that guy go? With 20 minutes left of the work day, he headed towards the corner where the toolboxes seemed a lot bigger. Sure enough, in the furthest corner, beside a colossal toolbox finished in dark green and graphite, was the man with the astonishing eyebrows, a delighted grin all over his face. Awesome! You gotta see this, I got the idea on YouTube and the tools in this baby are just fantastic. The enormous case bore the label “2014” and Norbert felt sure he would never find his way around all these drawers and cupboards. But the modeller was stringing polys together with incredible speed, forming a crude pterodactyl-like shape. Watch this he said, twiddled some dials on a panel and the rough shape morphed into an elegant, if unlikely-looking, aircraft. Could that thing fly? wondered Norbert. His hands a blur, the modeller adjusted some points around the cockpit area: to Norbert’s amazement two air intakes appeared, fully formed. Back in a second and the modeller disappeared.

Looking around the aircraft in wonder, Norbert spotted a small laquered box at the back of the work area. Picking it up, he noticed the fine calligraphic inlay on the lid, the delicate latch and silk ribbon securing it. PUT THAT DOWN AT ONCE! thundered a voice in his ear. You daren’t open that, son; his worst eyebrows are in there and the last lad who opened it needed twenty seven stitches and a month off work. They’re razor sharp! The Second Supervisor loomed over him: Have you finished that landing gear? Good. Tomorrow morning the Boss wants to see you sharp. Use the lift, top floor and don’t be late. You working all hours again, Bill? The modeller had returned, his hands a blur once more.

 

[hairyspin]

Norbert knew something was different the next day, he couldn’t think where the hill the bus had climbed yesterday had gone. The lift door was in the workshop reception: going up, the indicator displayed LOD_400, LOD_100, LOD_080… until with a bing! the lift stopped at LOD_005. The large open-plan office had a good view of the road below: to Norbert’s puzzled gaze the land looked perfectly flat for a couple of miles around. Not again groaned a voice: it was the Second Supervisor. Someone misplaced another ground poly! The man settled at his desk beneath an enormous air chart of the American mid-West. Noticing Norbert’s stare, he growled the Boss is over there and pointed to the far end.

At a desk surrounded by monitors sat a mild-mannered man, milk stains on his shirtsleeve. At least five PCs around him whirred and churned. A sign said “Caution: compilers running” and a counter to the side displayed “Development Release version #297”: as Norbert looked it clicked over to #298. Hello, good to see you said the man, are you settling in? Any questions? Distractedly, the Boss brushed crumbs off his tie. Another broken night, he mused: more teething troubles, I think.

Arriving back at ground floor, a huge explosion blew Norbert into the aspidistras. The First Supervisor waddled round the corner: You there, help him get set up again. He pointed to a work area that had completely collapsed: a middle-aged man was pulling his spectacles out of the wreckage and straightening his remaining hair. Norbert helped set up the workbench and lift the surprisingly small toolbox on to its stand. That’s the fourth time this month; you’ll never integrate TacPack with FSDS, sneered a passing worker, and guffawed loudly.

On the way to his own bench, he came upon Bill, who seemed preoccupied. Good morning, how are you? Norbert asked. Not &gt. Got problems with the code. Bill’s forehead was heavily bruised and to Norbert’s horror, the dents on the nearest wall included eyebrow bristles.

The workshop suddenly filled with an aero engine’s roar. The big doors were open and most of the men went to watch the maiden flight. As the model turned to taxi out, the workshop filled with smoke and by the time it cleared, the aircraft was a dot in the sky. Effects are overdone (cough). He’s coming back to land (cough, cough) spluttered a small brown-skinned man; but I don’t think he’s got the approach right (cough), he’s heading for the grass. Is that a problem? asked Norbert. Yes, it’s 3D and they haven’t disabled crash detection yet came the reply as pieces of Fokker scattered in all directions.

Later in the canteen the talk was of the next model to be tested, a helicopter which had been built in record time. I’d love to see my work do that said Norbert. Do what? someone asked. Take flight, I suppose. A deathly hush descended; faces turned white. The senior modeller crossed himself, rose and walked off without a word. Someone whispered he used the F word!!! and the group quickly dispersed. A grizzled modeller grabbed Norbert’s arm and pointed to the far wall: That’s the swear box over there, boy; never, ever use that word again or it’ll cost you a day’s wages first time and lots more the next. And if The Lawyer ever hears you, well… With a final hoarse whisper he looked around warily: I never heard you, never spoke to you, you don’t know who I am and he vanished into the workshop.

That afternoon Norbert was called to help another worker, round the back of an enormous steel and concrete terminal building. Just climb up here and hang on tight the worker said, holding a stepladder against the jetway. As a DC-8 approached, the jetway reared into the air. Hold on! yelled the worker, That’s the third payware model it’s done that with: must be a dislocated bone. The big jet taxied off and the jetway sank back to float a metre or more off the ground. Have you a bigger stepladder? called Norbert. The man’s reply was unrepeatable.

Later, the whistle of four turbojets told of a another classic airliner arriving outside. A different workshop door opened and a slim nose slid up to a workbench. A modeller wheeled some steps to the crew door and disappeared inside, emerging soon after with a plain rectangle. He’s got another one remarked the Second Supervisor, wonder where he dug that one out? Come on son, you need to see how this is done. At the bench, the modeller was cutting photos out of an old avionics catalogue and pasting them on the rectangle. As each took its place, the needles sprang to life: EGT, N1, N2, ASI, etc. The altimeter, Norbert noticed, read 32,767 metres. Suddenly the modeller noticed too: Was ist? Der rumpenfunkenschplitsplathohenmesserfahrt nicht gewerken? Dammen und blasten! The supervisor hustled Norbert away as the modeller exploded in apoplectic Germanic rage. That’s the Tin Man, he explained; he’s always trying old models in new clothes and flying them for free. Never mention money to him, it gets him upset. Lots of the guys just call him the heretic.

One thing I was wondering, said Norbert. Bill has that huge toolset and the guys say it cost him the earth: how come some of the other boys have the same? They can’t possibly afford it too, surely? Ah, replied the supervisor, students, mostly. After three years they lose it. And the others? asked Norbert. We don’t enquire too closely said the supervisor, unless they talk too much. Come this way if you don’t think Gmax is complicated enough.

To one side were some workbenches different from any Norbert had seen and the large orange toolboxes had no drawers; instead the tools were hung on sliding racks which jingled quietly as they slid out on roller bearings: there were dozens of them. You remember the plane that crashed this morning? asked the supervisor. Don’t worry, he’s got a backup: this is where it was built. A large twin-engined type was taking shape, cuttings of fabric hanging everywhere. A worker Norbert recognised was bickering with a figure head-down in the tail turret: It’s not smooth enough, you moron! No, I have to sharpen these edges: who do you think you are, Max Headroom?! Tempers frayed and polys started flying back and forth. KNOCK IT OFF, YOU TWO! roared the supervisor. Yes, Dick. Sorry, Dick, they meekly replied and went back to work. This is a developing area: last year just standard Gmax benches and nobody knows where these came from but that’s his second project. If you’re interested, their toolsets are a no-cost option but most of us here haven’t a clue how to even adjust the pivot. They say you need the right keys to use it.

The week passed quickly as Norbert struggled with his gear bays and bifold gear doors. Try as he might, the doors were always just that little bit misaligned. The final straw came when lots of blue lines and crosses suddenly flashed around the work and he lost complete control of the parts: they jumped around from one position to another. Snap out of it, laddie! called a nearby worker. Coming near, the stranger pushed a small switch and everything calmed down. You need help, the heavily bearded man suggested: get it taped before you set these pivots. So saying he dropped a pile of screenshots on the bench You should have mapped them first, y’know. I’ve been trying to avoid that, Norbert mumbled. Don’t we all? said the man, apparently talking through a hedge, but it has to be done. There’s plenty gen over in the wiki. Yeah, I haven’t found that yet, where is it? Norbert asked. You haven’t seen the sign at the front? the man replied. It’s there where you come in. Top left. As the man walked away, Norbert realised what he had taken for twigs were in fact old chicken bones, tangled in the beard, and he shuddered.

 

[hairyspin]

On Monday morning Norbert’s work was fitted into a slim twin-engined fighter and the complete model wheeled through the big doors to the apron. Something wasn’t quite right as the aircraft rattled and clattered over the tarmac. Minutes later it was airborne but the gear remained resolutely down and the maiden flight ended abruptly. The pilot climbed out gingerly and immediately phoned his dentist: Yes, all of them, he ended the call. The senior modeller was already examining the undercarriage when Norbert got there. I think you loosened the fillings in his teeth, he remarked, the oleos aren’t moving and the gear isn’t retracting either. Look here, and he led a baffled Norbert around the control surfaces and props, pointing out the small tag attached to each one. Your gear doesn’t have any, does it? Use the animation manager.

There was an undercurrent of anxiety in the workshop that morning. All became clear at lunchtime when a notice was seen on the canteen door. “Inspectors will be calling this afternoon. All developers will cooperate fully and have their work ready for examination. The Management.” Time and motion people muttered one modeller, now we’ll see. Conversation buzzed around the workbenches later: Did you see that terminal building? Thirty-six 4096 textures and I’ve been telling him for weeks: 4.5 fps! Poor old Simon, his shared cockpits struggled to hit double figures. How about that kid with the Gulfstream? You mean the Lost Cause: still locks up when he turns on the cabin fan! (loud chuckling) How did you do, Bill? The eyebrows were at a jaunty angle: I love P3D: half a million polys and they couldn’t knock it below 48fps: AWESOME! Hey, called another, how about whatsisname with the terrain radar? You couldn’t believe it, came the reply, they set up four on the same panel and the framerate didn’t even move. Respect, they all nodded.

Next day Norbert was carrying some maps back from the Lith machine and had to detour through a very quiet section of the workshop. Ahead was a workbench with a plush high-backed leather chair to one side and no-one about. Bundles of paper tied with red ribbon were piled beside the toolbox. A short while later the tannoy announced “Will Norbert report to the First Supervisor’s office immediately, repeat immediately!” He knocked on the rough plank door. COME! bellowed the voice. Ah Norbert, shut the door. Yes sir? stammered Norbert. This is by way of a warning. Norbert gulped. You walked past The Lawyer’s workbench ten minutes ago. Did you not wonder why there’s no-one working within a hundred feet of that bench? You stay away from there! The voice softened. He’s a menace, son. Other modellers avoid him like the plague. You’re lucky he’s out this morning or he’d ask if you were licensed to make those maps you were carrying, did you have the software developer’s permission to use these modifiers, were you legally entitled to right-click instead of using the main menu – you’d be stuck the rest of the day and there’d be nothing useful done. Bear that in mind and back to work with you. The supervisor turned to a groaning tray marked “Suggestions”: the interview was over.

That afternoon another trainee’s workbench, toolbox, VC model and the surprised trainee himself rose a good twelve feet into the air, rolled over 160 degrees and tilted by 27 degrees. The trainee could walk around his bench as if the floor was there too, but the blood was running to his head and he was already hyperventilating. The senior modeller, the German-accented one, the Second Supervisor and four others stood back half-smiling, waiting to see if the lad could work out what he’d just done. After a couple of minutes the heavily-bearded man pulled the lever marked “Activate Home Grid” on a floor panel and everything returned to its place. Did we learn something, laddie? he asked and pointed out the home grid control on the bench top. Custom grids are useful in their place, but remember to deactivate them when you’re done.

As the days went by, Norbert got to know the other trainees who usually hung out together at lunch break. Another new boy started and on his first day came up to the group just before the after-lunch hooter, his spotless overalls still creased from the packet. He had a proposition for them: Christmas is just six weeks away. We could make a packet from an A350-800 model with a kickin’ VC! He was holding something that looked like a badly folded paper aeroplane. Who wants to join my team? The other trainees cited existing jobs and other excuses, so the new boy went off to canvas other developers, trying his luck with José Barqueras first. José listened to him briefly and feigned bemusement, pointing to the sign above his bench: “Se habla Espanôl: Spanish spoken here.” Baffled, the lad went round the corner to try someone else: José smiled to himself and went back to work. Another voice rose above the usual workshop sounds, angry and impatient, followed by a loud crash, a terrible tearing, and as the noise subsided, a prolonged whimpering. He didn’t try that on with the Tin Man, did he? gasped a second-year trainee. Head through one wing of a badly folded paper aeroplane, his overalls in shreds, a frightened figure limped towards the First Aid room. He did, breathed the others.

Leaving for home that evening, a sharply-dressed individual was waiting for them in the entrance. In handmade chalk-stripe suit with silk tie and handkerchief, patent leather shoes, gleaming white spats, a red feather in his Fedora and sporting a diamond-studded Rolex, the mustachioed stranger made his pitch: Gentlemen! I represent a cutting-edge development house and we are seeking partners for our exciting new line. We offer the most attractive terms, consider all applications with the utmost discretion and look forward to hearing from you. He pushed a glossy full-colour folder into Norbert’s hand: outside, the litter bin was already overflowing with them. For months, no-one; then in one afternoon, two, José sighed. Crazy! Norbert opened the folder: it was blank.

 

[hairyspin]

Okay hotshot, said the Tin Man some weeks later, you’ve to help young TurningPan in the Lofts today. They want you to get more airport experience. Norbert looked up at the bare workshop roof, puzzled. The Lofts, dummy, not the attics: outside! Norbert pulled on a jacket and went to find his fellow trainee.

There was an awful lot of people working outside, but they were spread so widely and apparently no-one had seen TurningPan. One man was building a set of “running rabbit” lights which so far were more Saturday Night Fever: he thought TurningPan might be in the aircraft stands. He wasn’t, but someone arranging a set of towing trucks suggested the fuel depot. From there he was directed to the threshold of 070, and on the way there stumbled over some stray taxi lights. When he got up, there was TurningPan behind a service vehicle, pulling the Boolean press out of his toolbox. Ace! I’m just putting this taxiway together and we can get the edges lofted. People get funny about Booleans in the workshop, but no-one bothers you out here so long as you come up with the goods. There was a little difficulty at one stage, but TurningPan whacked the press with a spare poly and the next try was faultless. The vertex chute gets clogged sometimes, he explained.

They had the edge profile all ready to go when there was a long pause as a 3000m custom grid was manoeuvred alongside by the small brown man: he was moving it with just one fingertip. Who’s that? asked Norbert. I can’t pronounce his name, TurningPan replied, I can’t even read it, for that matter. So what do you call him? Norbert asked again. I call him Sir. I screwed up big time, beginning of last week, and it looked like I was for the chop, but we’re getting on better now.

The taxiway edge appeared as if by magic. A red light on the bench flashed beside the poly count: “450” said the display. No worries, TurningPan remarked, turned the steps down and grinned as the display dropped to “90”. Now for these textures. I’m trying to blend things, here goes! The taxiway edge was as hard as ever, but the centre faded to complete transparency. I’ll never get the hang of these alpha layers! he moaned. Invert? suggested Norbert. That’s it! cried TurningPan as the taxiway sat nicely amid the long 3D grass, and just in time.

The familiar outline of a 747-400 touched down on 070, turned on to the new taxiway and rolled towards them. Norbert was puzzled by the octagonal wheels, the crude landing gear struts, the blank windows, and TurningPan was standing right next to it as it passed. Get down! yelled Norbert over the din. AI, explained his colleague as the noise, and the Jumbo, moved away. If that was the real deal, we’d be blown out to the perimeter. Now watch! As the jet rolled up to the ramp, twin jetways extended to the main doors. Result! The two trainees high-fived until the First Supervisor’s shouted warning reached them. Turning again they saw the 747 had not stopped, but was rolling straight for the gleaming steel and glass main terminal building. Oh no!! TurningPan ran to the workbench and hit the black-and-yellow striped switch marked “Delete”. The taxiway and apron disappeared and the Jumbo bogged down in soft ground, its nose gear creaking alarmingly. That was a close one, boys. That’s his masterpiece and I think you’d have more to worry about than extra-hot sandwiches this time, eh? The First Supervisor had a wry expression on his face as he caught up with them. Back to the old drawing board, then!

What did he mean by the sandwiches? asked Norbert after the supervisor had gone. Sir put suicide chillies in my packed lunch after I screwed up last week, TurningPan replied. No!! Norbert gasped. Yes, I’m only just tasting things again now. He didn’t even smile, just looked at me as my mouth went thermonuclear.

Norbert thought he would give the Boolean press a try himself the next day; he had panels to cut for four VCs and it seemed a good idea. As he pulled the press from its cubby, some workers went very quiet and turned to watch him. The first couple of operations went okay, but the third was unfinished and his next attempt failed completely. Remembering TurningPan’s wheeze, he thumped the vertex chute with a plain cylinder, but still the press refused to work. Several modellers were now standing nearby: Tha musn’t use that piece o’ junk, lad. Quite ineffective, old bean; simple mesh tools are more useful. What ARE you doing you great lummox? and many other cutting remarks followed. One worker Norbert hadn’t seen before shoved his face right up to Norbert’s: his eyes were like pinholes, he hadn’t washed or shaved that week and he stank of garlic. It’s a plain fact, a Boolean is the infallible way to bork all sensible modelling. Why don’t you turn from your perverted ways and embrace the True Path? If you were enlightened you’d see these things immediately and forgo this reprehensible abomination!! The man’s lips were flecked with foam and his shoulders had begun to twitch as a familiar voice broke in: All right guys, give the lad some space. A large hand lifted the smelly man away. What are you hitting the thing for, laddie? asked the big man: Norbert couldn’t quite place him. Someone told me the vertex chute can clog up, he answered. Hmm, must have been a scenery guy; their machines get damp out there, the man remarked and opened a hatch. Thought so; it’s not clogged up, it’s empty. Get another bag of vertices from the stores. I’ve got a few spare here, but not enough and he indicated his short, curiously square-cut beard with red points dotted along each edge. The penny dropped: Didn’t you have… Norbert started … a lot more beard? the man finished the question for him. Yes, but the Wife was complaining. I just converted to editable and used the slice plane: it’s really quick but I have to chamfer a bit before I go home tonight.

The others were leading the smelly man away; he was gibbering faintly. Who is that? Norbert wondered. He’s a sad case, the big man answered. A ShapeMerge went badly wrong on him last year and he went over the edge. He used to be on the terminals and control towers, but he refuses to work on Compound Objects any more so they sent him inside. He does Reset XForms all day long: it’s tedious work, but it keeps him in a job. Be sure to tidy up when those cuts are all done: he pointed to the redundant blue vertices scattered under the workbench.

 

[hairyspin]

Sometime in early May, Norbert took his accumulated holiday time and had four days off. On the third day he bumped into his old shop steward from the local authority. Norbert, the very lad! the man exclaimed. There’s a permanent job coming up in the canteen next week. Four weeks’ holiday, pension rights and all the tea you can drink: what do you say? No-one ever handed out the napkins as well as you! The man seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Don’t think so, Norbert replied after a moment. The official was flabbergasted.

He spent the next day wondering if he’d made the wrong choice: Developers Inc. gave job security and pension rights to no-one, not even the supervisors; but his doubts disappeared the next day as he walked back to his workbench. Four models were waiting at the big workshop doors, ready for testing; Bill and the Tin Man were thrashing out some coding problem and both grinned at him as he passed, Bill waggling an eyebrow; the workshop buzzed with the usual muttering, cursing, babbling, cries and shouts and on the bench was a note to say he and two others were starting XML with the chief coder that morning. Yes, he thought, they build things here, and he opened his familiar toolbox. Then laughed to himself as he realised no-one in all that hive of industry, no-one for any purpose, no-one at any time had or would ever, ever use that bloomin’ teapot.

 

[n4gix]

OMG! Tom, that is bloody brilliant!

 

[N2056]

Best thing I've read in a very long time. Unfortunately I was engaged in beverage consumption while reading it and this was so funny that now I have to clean the monitor screens

 

[ollyau]

How long did that take you and have you written anything else?

 

[GaryGB]

Hi Tom:


Hmmm... when a "Flying Circus" storyline for a satirical sketch takes a 'HairySpin' ....a splendid time is guaranteed for all.


I'll nominate that captivating story as a must-have "Diversion Resource" here at FSDeveloper; thanks for that fine contribution.

Perhaps we might see some "add-ons" to the story from time to time, such that we have "something completely different" to pore over whilst awakening to our morning coffee or tea ?



PS: Keep the Aspidistra Flying !

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keep_the_Aspidistra_Flying

GaryGB

 

[JB3DG]

Rofl....I picked up several characters here.

 

[n4gix]

The white tab hides the top button on my shirts.

When wearing my 'formal' suit, the entire 'front' is like a bib.
It fastens with a velcro strip in the back!

 

[Heretic]

Brilliant!

(And what a way to start the week!)


I suggest making this one a sticky. New Norberts might not fully understand it, but it would be a good (cautionary?) tale about what to expect here.
After a few months here, they are surely going to be delighted to find out that their and Norberts journey share quite a bit of similarity.

 

[Dutcheeseblend]

Amazing story! Wonderful!

Thanks a lot Tom

 

[JB3DG]

I enjoy seeing my work in-flight....(ducks for cover)

 

[edphipps]

So this confirms what I had suspected. In order to do computer modeling you have to be one part artist, one part computer scientist, and one part escapee from the asylum. Thanks for the story and the humor Tom.

Ed

 

[Dutcheeseblend]

You really did a wonderful job on making this place physical. I think it's true in most cases: the thing we first encounter in any software (teapot) won't ever be used...

I printed the story, to enjoy it while offline

 

[pfabian]

So this confirms what I had suspected. In order to do computer modeling you have to be one part artist, one part computer scientist, and one part escapee from the asylum. Thanks for the story and the humor Tom.

Ed

I do believe you nailed it. I'll stay out of the graphical workshops

Hairyspin, quite amazing indeed.

 

[JB3DG]

There is a reason I dropped out of learning Blender and Max and became a programmer instead....

 

[Dutcheeseblend]

I don't feel completely like Norbert, since I had the luck to take my personal workbench with me on traineeship

 

[JB3DG]

Im curious though....what makes Bill's eyebrows so dang'ed dangerous?