So I am partners in a company that has a scissor lift. If you do not know what that is, I’ll explain. It is one of those deals you see people use that lift them up in the air to work on lights, signs, bridges, and stuff. A scissor lift has alternating braces underneath that look like scissors opening and closing as it lifts you up into the air – hence the name. I was using it last week when the switch to turn the wheels to the left or the right broke. The switch had three positions – Up: which was neutral, and then left or right to turn the wheels the respective direction. Anyway, there was a snap and suddenly the switch would just wiggle around in a big 360 degree circle.
I called the scissor lift repair people, gave them the manufacturer’s name, the model, and described the problem, rather thoroughly I might add. They scheduled a guy for the next morning to arrive to repair the unit. When he arrived he looked at the switch, and then began a serious of investigations. He made the unit go up and down, back and forth, looked at the electrical lines, and the hydraulic lines. I could not fathom what he was doing, but hey I’m not a professional scissor lift repairman – he is. Eventually, he informed me that the switch was broken and would have to be replaced. I was totally amazed at the impressive ability by which this seasoned professional reached such an astute decision.
He then informed me that he would get one ordered and would come back when it arrived to install it. I asked why he had not brought one with him, given that I had already described the problem to the dispatcher and provided the manufacturer and model number. He explained that since I was not a certified scissor lift repairman that it was probably far beyond my mere mortals ability to discern such a complex diagnostic and that it was obviously necessary to any sentient being that a proper inspection must be ran prior to the ordering of such a highly prized and lucrative item as a twenty-five dollar three way switch. Now these weren’t his exact words, as I may have taken a few liberties. Given that the debate was futile since I deemed him incapable of pulling a switch out of his butt, I was forced to concede and ask that he inform me of when the repair could be made.
Days passed and the coveted three position switch arrived heralded by a ticker tape parade featuring local and national dignitaries, sports figures, some bimbos wearing tiaras, and a man who had a small troop of wiener dogs that he forced to jump through a series of hoops. The switch was installed and miraculously the lift was able to turn left and right again. Amazing!
Later that day – the switch broke.
I called the repair place, and the same repairman arrived having completed a HALO jump into the facility. It was either that or he pulled up in his service van, I can’t remember which. He pulled out a series of diagnostic tools. He hooked meters up to everything. The lift went up. The lift came down. The lift went forwards. The lift went backwards. Batteries were checked. Probes were sent into deep dark recesses of the lift without the aid of lubricant. The repairman climbed up on the lift. He climbed down. He walked around the lift. He looked under the lift. He checked its temperature. Finally, I asked what he was looking for. He looked at me with his cold dead eyes. When they locked onto to me a cold chill ran through my spine.
Finally he spoke. “Something must be causing these switches to go out!”
I paused for a moment before saying, “That first switch was like a million years old. In fact, I think Moses used this lift to get the Ten Commandments down off Mount Sinai.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “but something made it go out, and it made this new switch go out too!”
Trying to choose my words carefully, given that I am not the obvious diagnostic mastermind this guy is, I said, “So you don’t think that maybe the new switch might just be bad?”
The marrow in my bones froze as he cast his death look upon my form.
Minutes passed in silence. More switches were thrown. The lift went up. The lift came down. The lift went forward. The lift went backward. A phone call was placed. I am sure somewhere in Washington, computer disks began spinning up, and satellites began linking up in space. Finally, the call ended. A decision had been made.
The new switch was probably bad.
So short story long – he went and got a new switch, replaced it, and it has worked just fine since. I am left to only sit back in quiet awe at the mastery I saw displayed before me. I find myself truly humbled to have been in the presence of such a master diagnostician. One day, I dare dream to aspire to only a portion of his greatness. Ah to dream!
