Boys Will Be Boys

What's about 14 feet long, underwater, and the single thorn in my side for the past few weeks? These things ( credit to www.bubbleheads.blogspot.com ):

Anyway, the bright side is that I have been afforded an unusual opportunity to work in some new areas of the field. Refitting stuff that has already been built is not so easy as getting it right the first time, as I'm sure any car mechanic can tell you. Anyway, the first crew I was introduced to were the divers. A very gung-ho, motivated group of individuals there. I got to spend some quality time hanging out on their little barge and observing their work methods. The 10' x 15' barge did not allow for any sort of plumbing, so the men resorted to a carafe/chamber pot when needed. As one of the gents finished using that facility topside, a diver had the misfortune of rising to the surface. The topside fellow shouted "WHOOPS" and dumped the steaming carafe mere inches from his surfaced comrade. I'm pretty sure that missing was his intent. That led to a waterfight, and work resumed a few minutes later. The next time this diver prepared to surface, the topside fellow, thoroughly soaked from the waterfight, poured hot water from the circulator and some soap suds into the carafe. The diver breaks the surface, foamy hot water is thrown, and a chase ensues. The lesson: a wet suit is not suited for a chase. The villain escaped... for the time being.

A few days later, the Steel Trades were reworking some plates the divers removed. Their Foreman had some questions about the instructions I had written so the Planner (guy organizing the work) brings me down to the shop to square things away. Nothing new, and certainly not a problem. The twist was the shouting match the Planner and Foreman got into. I've seen enough posturing like this to know to just stand a few feet away and look unimpressed until it was my turn to get involved. Amazingly, they weren't really even arguing with each other about anything. They were just sort of shouting about things, and complaining about what their bosses were doing to them. These were a couple of omega males at the top of their game. Towards the end they threw a couple of profanity-laden direct challenges at each other, but I could tell their hearts weren't even really in it. After all, it was afternoon, and lunch is more important than chest thumping. The most surreal turn was after the last f-bomb cleared the air, and both turned to me, smiled, thanked me for making the trip to help out, and we parted ways. It's like the whole thing was a show.