A fun mix of tongue in cheek humor that is loaded with down to earth music that will bring a smile to your heart --- you can't help but sing along with it.

13 MP3 Songs
COUNTRY: Country Rock, POP: 70's Pop



Details:
NOD ARVEFEL sm

JOE FACTORY
Copyright 2006 Donald K. Lefevra



CD DESCRIPTION

Joe Factory is a fun mix of tongue in cheek humor that is loaded with down to earth music that will bring a smile to your heart --- you canât help but sing along with it!


BIO

One of the hardest things that I ever had to learn was to stand on a concrete floor for 8 hours a day for 5-6 days a week. The next hardest thing I learned was working the graveyard shift and having to sleep during the day, especially after being in school for twelve years sitting on my keester. I got married two weeks after graduating from high school (mistake numero uno), only to get a job in a factory and then to have my dad as a foreman (mistake numero duo) for seven years.

It was in that time period that I realized Dad and supervisor were two different people. And like in my previous home-life, though living or working together, we really had nothing in common other than being related. My being the bossâs son created a lot of friction at the shop, and I became the object of controversy. I was damned if I did something and damned if I did not do something.

At the beginning of each decade, the auto industry would suffer a slow down in sales. This meant layoffs. So after surviving my first layoff, I was reduced out of my dadâs department (boy was he glad) to a dayshift job in another department. In a few years, my dad got onto the dayshift, where he retired after 30 years in 1980.

One of the greatest hazards of working in a factory is boredom. Grownups turn into little kids when they get bored and sometimes do cruel things to other co-workers just to get a rouse out of them. One of these pranks was call âbluing.â We had an oil based industrial dye that came in the form of paste in a tube. This paste was a midnight blue and was difficult to spot on dark surfaces, like on the old black telephones and dirty machine handles.

One night, on second trick (second shift), somebody blued the earpiece of a supervisorâs phone. The co-workers watched as someone called the supervisor on his phone. Naturally, the supervisor put the phone to his ear. His ear turned navy blue from the paste that someone had smeared on the earpiece. After that, to the day that he retired, whenever he answered a phone he would first wipe it off with a rag. (No, that supervisor wasnât my dad, but he did get blued once and was looking for heads to roll!)

Speaking of being bored, I hated the repetitiousness of the factory. After all, one can only go as fast as his machine is set to go. I was once so frustrated at being held captive to a machine that I told my dad that a monkey could do my job (mistake numero tres). I was then told âQuit yer bitchinâ and get back to work --- or better yet, quit!â

When I was in high school, I had dreams of becoming a rock star in a band. I had a rock band called The Exiles, and then I got married and followed my dad into a factory. I hated it in the beginning and tried to juggle marriage, band, and a third shift factory job. It wasnât long before I discovered that I was not a juggler. I let good pay and benefits snuff out my dream . . . but not completely.

Remember what I said about the boredom? Well, while I ran a machine, I would write down song lyrics. My mind became a breeding ground to the many songs that I wrote. After work, Iâd go home and get my guitar and work out what I composed at work.

Now, getting back to factory world; because many of the machines were close together, one could watch another person for hours (like when they left their machine for breaks or even quit early). We had a fella, that would quit every morning exactly at 7:00 a.m. You could set your watch by it. At 7:00 a.m., day in and day out, he would go to the buffing department right across the aisle from my machine and use an air hose to clean the shavings out of his hair and clothing. After observing this particular behavior for several weeks, someone took the air hose, shut off the air, unfastened the nozzle, and filled the hose itself with a tube (a big tube) of aromatic pearl hand cream, replaced the nozzle, and turned the air on again.

It was then that a strange turn of events began to take place. For some reason my machine blew a fuse. So the supervisor called in an electrician, who just happened to be a short fused, hot tempered, old fart with whom I did not get along. You could tell by his body language that he was not happy about having to help me get my machine running, because he thought I had sabotaged the machine close to quitting time in order to get out of work.

As he stomped and muttered around my machine, he came to the electrical control box and found it full of aluminum shavings. The air hose on my machine wouldnât reach the back control panel, so he grabbed the long one from across the aisle. Yep, you guessed it --- the one full of pearl hand cream!

As he sprayed, it first looked like a watery mist, then it turned into frosting on a cake and coated the electrical control box with its pearly goo. He looked at me with accusing eyes and started cussing up a storm. The more he sprayed, the more he cussed, and the more he cream-coated the control box. Thatâs when I split to clock out! After an investigation as to what had actually occurred, the electrician discovered the truth of the matter of why there was hand cream in the air hose and I was cleared of any wrongdoing.

Because I worked with the average Joe Factory daily, weekly, year after year, they became family. You canât hide who you are from family --- somehow we got along and made it to retirement. Some retired before me (like my dad) and lived to enjoy the fruits of retirement. Some died on the job, or while they were still employed at the factory. Their absence left a void in my life, but I thank God for the times that we shared together as friends and co-workers. The last ten years of my factory life I served as one of the shop chaplains.

After 38 years of factory work, Iâve again picked up my dream. As of this date, I have three Cds under my belt and am working on #4 and #5. I no longer dream of becoming a rock star, but because Iâve received Christ as my Savior, now all I desire is to be a blessing. Hope this CD blesses you!


Nod Arvefel
a/k/a Don Lefevra