You try and break it!

At a San Francisco shop where I worked, we were so busy that it became necessary to hire a few welders to keep up with mounting orders. I was not in charge of hiring, so I don’t know what kind of advertisement the shop created, but judging by the cross section of humanity that came through the door, it was effective. It must have read something like, “Can you fog a mirror? If so, please call (555) 555-5555 for a job.” Or possibly, “Check your heartbeat. Got one? Come on down.”

Doug, my old teacher and foreman, used to administer the verbal interviews and dole out welding tests to the applicants. As were all the workers, I was very interested in the applicants because they represented potential competition.

The standard test was a couple of simple tungsten-inert-gas welds, one fillet weld and one corner weld in two material thicknesses. I still use a variation of this test to weed the chaff from the grain—nothing like a fillet weld in thin stainless steel to separate the meat eaters from the scampering quarry.

Typically, applicants were given several sheared strips of stainless steel and asked to weld them together as instructed. They were left alone while they worked on the test. This allowed them to get their bearings without the foreman breathing sardine breath down the back of their necks. When finished, they submitted their best welding samples. However, some of these so-called welders couldn’t get past tacking the strips, let alone the test itself.

Between you, me and the lamp post, this test shouldn’t have taken more than 10 minutes if you knew what the heck you’re doing. It was usually a bad sign if test takers asked for more test strips or a hammer, or if they made more than two trips to the grinder.

Doug normally came back after 15 minutes to see how someone was doing and find out if the applicant needed something or was finished and just standing around with a finger in his back pocket. If an applicant was hopelessly lost, Doug would escort him out the back door.

Of course, being concerned fellow metalworkers, we might offer what could be construed as help from time to time. This might entail dropping an empty metal garbage can at the exact moment the poor guy was trying to flip his hood down or choosing the optimal moment to, say, hammer incessantly on a hollow metal gong.

One day a really interesting character came in for an interview and welding test. This guy looked like he had slept in a car or under a nearby freeway overpass. He had an outdoorsy look to him—and I don’t mean camping. To his credit, he was supremely confident and apparently could talk a pretty good line because he was allowed to take the welding test. He must have known something about welding or metalworking.

Doug got him set up and even loaned the guy his welding hood, which must have been a bit shocking to him. I picked up his welding hood one time to make a quick tack and it must have had a magnifying lens similar to the Hubble space telescope in it. My little tack looked like the surface of the sun through a pair of binoculars.