Chapter 5: Weathermare
A Gift From Celestia II
Chapter 5: Weathermare
Admiral Biscuit
Ditzy's ears perked as she heard the shower turn on. Despite her late return home the previous night, she felt full of energy. She wasn't sure if it was the memories of the night before, or if it was the anticipation of the first day at her first real job.
She rolled out of bed and got on her hooves, stretching her wings out to their full span for one, two, three seconds before snapping them back in. She lightly bounced on her the tips of her hooves, resisting the urge to jump out the window and do a few loops in the cool spring air.
"Ditzy Doo, are you awake?" Even through a wall and over the dull roar of the shower, her mother's accusing voice was enough to pin her ears back.
"Yeah, Mom, I'm up."
"Today's your first day, you know."
"Yes, Mom, I know." Ditzy grabbed a brush off her nightstand and made a few cursory passes through her mane. It's not normally this neat in the morning, she thought. Maybe I should take showers at night from now on. A small smile formed at the corners of her mouth as she remembered how good it had felt to have a stallion inside her. I wonder if he's still in town? We could—
“Have you got your bag packed?” Her mother's voice unceremoniously yanked her back to the present.
“Yes, Mom.”
“It’s important to make a good first impression.”
“Yes, Mom.” You've told me that, like, a zillion times.
“I packed a lunch for you. Do you have a notebook and pencils?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Okay.” The roar of the shower cut off. “I have to go to work early, so I won’t be able to see you off. Eat a good breakfast.”
Ditzy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom. I will.”
She bounded down the stairs in the cloudominium, half-flying and half hopping. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to Raindrops, but she was kind of looking forward to this. Working with feral clouds had been more fun than the Las Pegasus weather lab, and she envied the older pegasi that could just take one look at a cloud and know right where to knock it apart, or how to set it in the wind just so.
“Hey Papa.” Ditzy reached into a cubby and pulled out a bag of oats.
“Mornin', lass.” He set down his newspaper and watched her start to eat breakfast. One ear was bent back and up, while the other was focused on Ditzy. He took small sips of his coffee every now and then. Finally, he turned both ears forward.
“Mother’s gone t'work.” He reached a hoof under the table and pulled out a well-worn drawstring purse. “Listen—I want tha t'do well. There’s goin' t'be a lot comin' all at once, an' tha knows it’s hard t'focus. I know tha can—Mother mebbe doesn't realize, but I've allus known." He dropped the purse on the table.
“Tha knows t'nice baker that made a cake for tha last year? Once tha finishes wi' work, I want tha t'go an buy summat. A reward for a good day's work, tha knows." He slid a single coin out. “Don’t tell Mother.”
Ditzy nodded.
“I'll give tha coin every day tha goes t'work. An every day when tha's done workin', afore tha comes 'ome, get sommat at the bakery.”
“Thanks Papa!” She reached for the bit coin but he stopped her.
"Make me proud, lass.”
“I will. I’ll work hard, you’ll see.”
Before long, Ditzy’s words were coming back to haunt her.
She’d covered theory in school—every pegasus did. Las Pegasus had a marvelous weather lab, and a practice field where teams of pegasi would set out cloud arrangements. Ditzy had even taken an advanced weather planning class. And in her few months here, she’d been around most of Ponyville either in the air or on the ground, so she was reasonably familiar with the territory. Mom had even given her an old copy of the regional planning map and insisted she memorize it, so she'd be prepared for her first day.
Her first inkling that all was not as it should be was the weather office itself. Their large map had been completely covered with pinups of stallions in various compromising poses. When nopony was looking, she edged closer to one, making the startling discovery that it was scented. She felt a warm flush in her loins, and studied the pinup for a moment longer: this stallion was bigger than her unicorn; how might he have felt? She shifted her hind legs and backed away, hoping nopony would notice the slight blush on her cheeks.
When the briefing began, it got even worse. The supervisor didn't use the accepted terms for the clouds, instead substituting her own nicknames for them. The best she could get out of the briefing was that the teams were supposed to move a cluster of white fluffies over the tall-house section of Ponyville, slow grays over the Apples' farm, and switch out the fast grays that were over the leafy woods.
Ditzy had quickly given up on taking notes. Besides the lack of an appropriate desk, her supervisor didn't seem interested in repeating herself. While neither of those things by themselves would have been deal-breakers, it was the odd looks on the faces of the other weather pegasi that finally caused her to open her mouth and drop her pencil.
As her supervisor began handing out team assignments, Ditzy shifted around on her hooves. She'd gotten a good look at all the other pegasi as they'd trudged into the weather office, and already imagined who'd make the best partner. First and foremost was one of the stallions—dozens of novels had prepared her for the inevitable whirlwind romance a mixed-gender team invariably brought about. WIth her newfound experience, that was very appealing. Her second tier of choices were young mares, although it was tough to beat a seasoned veteran for a partner as well. On the other hoof, were she to be paired with a lazy slacker, her work would look that much better by comparison, and she might be able to—
“You’ll be with Lightning Bolt,” the foremare said, pointing to Ditzy. “Gonna be over by Cob’s Mill.” She pointed to a white mare with a blue mane.
“Cob’s Mill?” Ditzy repeated dumbly. It wasn't on her map, and she hadn't heard anypony ever mention it.
“Yeah. Burned down ten years ago.” She pointed to Lightning Bolt. “She knows where it is.”
So it was that Ditzy and Lightning Bolt found themselves on the southern end of Ponyville, hovering over a tomato field. A small creek ran along one edge of the land, and she noticed a few mossy foundation stones poking out of the weeds—no doubt all that remained of Cob’s Mill. Overhead, just west of the tomato fields, a large bundle of starter clouds were waiting for them.
“She could have just said Roma’s field." Ditzy griped as Lightning inspected the clouds. "I know where that is.”
“Look,” Lightning pulled a bundle of cloud-material loose and began fluffing it with her hooves. “What you learned in school isn’t how it happens out here. We haven’t got the budget for all the fancy things you had at Las Pegasus.” She quickly hoofed it into shape and shoved it towards Ditzy. “You’ll catch on—think about how chaotic it would be if we changed the names of every zone each time a new pony moved in or built a new house or something.”
“But why keep the name if the thing that was there is gone?” Ditzy pushed the cloud into place. “Roma’s probably going to be here for years, and her foals will be running the farm after she’s too old—isn’t that how the earth ponies do it? Or you could just use the actual regional map coordinates.”
Lightning shrugged. “I dunno. Who’s gonna remember sector J-8? Besides, most of those boundaries were drawn before anypony lived here. The Apple farm is through five different sectors—do you think they want five different kinds of weather? We’ve got to adapt to farm borders, or else nopony will eat.” She reached over and helped Ditzy tug a cloud into shape. “Watch the edges. If you taper them into the wind, they don’t blow away as fast. It makes for less work.”
• • •
When the sun was fully overhead, Ditzy was more than ready for a break. She’d struggled forming the clouds—in the lab at Las Pegasus, there hadn’t been wind to consider, and the raw material had been easier to work with. Am I that out of practice?
"What the hay is wrong with this stupid cloud?" Ditzy muttered as she tried in vain to get it to hold an approved shape.
"Inclusions," Lightning replied.
Ditzy looked at her blankly.
"Stuff that doesn't belong in a cloud." Lightning reached into her cloud and plucked out a small bit of down. "Like this. The cloud stuff doesn't form quite right around . . . well, non-cloud stuff."
Ditzy reached a hoof into the unformed section of her cloud to see what she could find. "Don't they inspect them? Our teacher said that all clouds went through a rigorous inspection process . . . and when we took a tour of the Las Pegasus Cloud Factory, there were like a dozen inspectors watching over every step of the process!"
"And they probably marched right back to their desks in accounting when the tour was over, complaining about how much it would cost to hire actual inspectors," Lightning muttered as she smoothed over the hole in her cloud. "This material probably failed quality control the first time around, and so they sent it to us as seconds." She flew over next to Ditzy and began piling it with her hooves. "No big deal, you've just got to work around them. Try to keep the defects away from the outside. Nopony will know if the cloud's got a void in the center."
Ditzy eyed the cloud suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to reject any cloud that can't be properly formed? Because it's unpredictable?"
"Just gotta work around the flaws in the seed," Lightning repeated, turning it around so the defective side faced north. "Then it's good enough."
"But. . . ."
"Look, it's not a raincloud." Lightning set it free and reached for another starter cloud. "And it's not like anypony's gonna be up here with gauges measuring it. Roma knows it's supposed to be partially cloudy, and that's all she cares about. And if a pegasus or a bird needs someplace to land, it'll work."
"Sure," Ditzy said, "But it's not right. The whole batch is off."
"You haven't ever visited a weather factory during a normal shift, have you?" Lighting shoved a cloud at Ditzy. "My sister works at the one in Cloudsdale, on the liquid rainbow line, and the stuff she sees . . . I bet there's better earth ponies when it comes to making clouds. Maybe even a unicorn could do it. 'Cause the only way they can keep the pay 'competitive' is to hire the worst pegasi ever to make the clouds. And they've got a quota, so it's not in QC's best interest to reject subpar clouds." Lightning kicked a cloud free before turning back to Ditzy. "And nopony on the ground cares."
"They ought to."
"Sure, kid." Lightning pulled another clump of cloud free. "Tell me, how many earth ponies ever look up, unless their crops are parched or flooded? They've got their muzzles to the dirt, watching every little sprout as if it was their foal. If the almanac calls for a partially cloudy sky, all they care is that they see clouds." She expertly shaped the starter and watched as it drifted free. "And it's not like the tomato vines care. A little shade is what they want, so that’s what we’re delivering." She hoofed a cloud over to Ditzy who began clumsily shaping it. "Close is good enough.”
“But my weather instructor said—”
“I know.” Lightning turned to face Ditzy. “See, ‘cause they don’t work weather, either. So they fill your head with all kinds of stuff, and when you young pegasi get out in the field, first thing we’ve got to do is empty all that stuff back out, and teach you how it’s really done.
“Look, don’t get me wrong—working weather’s not a bad job,” Lightning concluded. “Well, there’s problems with management, but that’s normal. Most of them never worked in the field before. They’ve got their fancy degrees, but they’ve never busted a cloud for a living.”
Ditzy almost mentioned that her mom was a manager, but bit her tongue in time. There was no sense in antagonizing her . . . well, co-worker was maybe too grand a term. Trainer fit better, or maybe coach. She twitched her ears as the distant peals of the Ponyville clock reached them.
“Sounds like it’s lunchtime,” Lightning muttered. “I’m gonna go down to the Oatfield Cafe and grab some food. You want anything?”
Ditzy thought about the single coin in her saddlebags. She could buy a sandwich with it, or a hot bowl of soup. Many of her ground-bound friends believed that pegasi couldn’t feel cold, which was a total lie. They could, and did. They just dealt with it—but her hooves were soggy and her fetlocks were soaked. A nice bowl of barley soup would warm her up from the inside out. . . .
“A reward for a good day’s work, if you will.”
“No, I’ve got lunch.” The thought of barley soup was overwhelming. The broth would be buttery and warm, the vegetables would still be just a bit crispy . . . or maybe she could get a bowl of Prench onion soup. A little more salty, and with a nice piece of mostly-melted cheese floating on the top.
“Okay. Keep an eye on that pile of starter clouds.” Lightning shot off towards Ponyville, leaving Ditzy fluttering beside another mis-formed cloud. With a sigh, she jumped up on the edge, adjusting her balance as the windward side shifted dangerously. Such a condition would be intolerable in a raincloud, but Lightning insisted it was acceptable in a so-called “white fluffy.”
She peered down at the ground below, looking for the tree where she’d hung her saddlebags. The gentle breeze had moved them eastward from their starting point, and it took her almost a minute to find the oak, much further away than she’d thought. Ditzy’s graceful jump off the cloud was ruined as a piece of the edge folded downward over her weight. As she soared towards the ground, she thought of how satisfying it would be to buck the cloud apart—but when Lightning returned, she’d probably have to put it back together again.
Ditzy shifted her weight as she hit a thermal, eventually dropping low enough to just skim a few ponylengths above Roma’s fields as she approached the oak tree. She flared her wings and twisted her body into a vertical stance, checking her forward momentum before she crashed into the tree’s canopy. She carefully flew in and grabbed the backstrap of her saddlebags with her teeth, then dropped and turned to clear the tree.
As Ditzy headed back to the sky, she took advantage of the thermal she’d found on the way in, letting it carry her back up to the clouds. I wonder if there’s a map of all the thermals around Ponyville, or if the weather teams just know where they form? They’d had those maps at Las Pegasus, and the Sky and Cloud coach insisted the team memorize them before each race. A pony who could use them well had a huge advantage over her competition.
Ditzy landed in the center of the starter clouds and dug into her saddlebag for the small bag her mother had packed the sandwiches in. They were squashed and soggy; totally unappealing. If her stomach hadn’t been growling at her, she’d have tossed them to the ground. It was the same lunch she’d endured throughout her entire school career: spinach, daisy, cucumber and timothy on thick slices of whole-grain bread. A healthy, boring meal.
She’d always secretly envied her classmates who had the fancy lunches. Sassaflash had been the talk of the school for two days after she’d revealed her Neighponese sushi lunch one memorable afternoon, complete with tiny disposable sticks which were meant to be used to eat the seaweed-wrapped rolls. While dozens of eyes watched, the sticks were pressed into service, tenuously held in her hooves. The food had wavered on its way to Sassaflash’s mouth, but it had made it intact. A collective sigh of relief had passed through the lunchroom crowd. It was almost as exciting as the gossip that Sassaflash had spent the entire afternoon in the bathroom; the description of those events varied based on one’s clique. Regardless, she had never again brought Neighponese food to lunch.
Ditzy flopped into a booth in Sugarcube Corner with all the drama of Private Pansy confronting a particularly nasty stormcloud in the Hearth's Warming Eve pageant. It was a performance worthy of an acting award, but nopony saw it except for Mr. Wattles, who raised an eyebrow before returning to his determined study of the Ponyville Express. Ditzy sighed deeply—earning her another raised eyebrow—and glanced around the bakery for a friendly face. Unfortunately, both Golden Harvest and Cherry Berry were either working in their fields, or up at the hospital fawning over Berry Punch's new foal, which meant she had no outlet for her frustration.
The afternoon had developed into a frantic disaster. Lightning’s patient explanation of technique had dissolved into vague commands by mid-day, when it became obvious that the two mares were not going to meet the schedule. Ditzy had tried her best to keep up, but the two hour lunch break that Lightning had taken had put them hopelessly behind. The last batch of clouds they placed were just barely passable, and Ditzy knew that a few of them would be out of place in an hour, making more work for the evening shift.
She’d offered to stay late and finish, but Lightning had muttered that they wouldn’t collect overtime, and had a few colorful suggestions for what management could do with their substandard clouds—suggestions which Ditzy wholeheartedly seconded.
On the plus side, she wasn’t as tired as she’d expected. Winter Wrap-Up had been a real effort—largely because the lack of coordination between the teams had caused them to repeat the same work. Lightning, on the other hoof, had been willing to accept malformed clouds, so long as their whole pile was placed more-or-less in the right place. Ditzy was beginning to wonder if her mother’s gripes about the difficulties of getting a cloud worker to do the job properly had some merit.
Still, to be fair, the starters hadn’t been as pure as they should have been. Cloudsdale was letting product out that they shouldn’t have. Seen in that light, was it any wonder that Lightning was unconcerned about the clouds meeting specifications? Ditzy had learned in class that a bundle of impure cloud material should be rejected outright . . . but what would have happened if Lightning had rejected the clouds she’d been given? In a serial novel, they would have flown into the weather supervisor's office, pounded their hooves on the desk and demanded satisfaction, and after facing down countless challenges, fallen madly in love, ultimately gifting the Ponyvillians with flawless clouds. But the reality is a lot more complicated than that, she thought, and I haven't got a virile stallion as a partner, either. That means that the sub-plot with the illegitimate foal is a non-starter. She lifted her head off the table and twisted back to grab onto a bent feather, delicately moving it into its proper position.
It was too much to think about on her first day. Ditzy turned towards the counter. She had a bit to spend, and she felt like she’d truly earned it. The display cases were calling to her with their selections of succulent goodness. It boggled her mind how many different ways a few simple ingredients could be combined to make so many unique treats—and her mother's cooking skills provided no clues to the process. It was rare for dinner to have a dish which required more than simply putting it on a plate, possibly accompanied with two slices of bread. Her father's approach to dinner was even simpler: either combine whatever he could find into a 'salad' or 'casserole,' or treat her to dinner from a restaurant.
Ditzy eagerly walked over to the case, paying little mind to the young mare trotting between the register and the ovens. Her attention was wholly reserved for the confections, and Cherry had once jokingly told her that watching her study the display cases was like watching a noble unicorn in Canterlot ogling jewelry in a store window. She’d stuck her tongue out at the earth pony and gone back to staring at the treats.
She passed over the breads: as tasty as they were, she wasn’t in the mood for focaccia or a Prench baguette, although an oat and date bread did look appealing. She mentally marked that to consider as she moved on to the display of cookies, licking her lips at the thought of a nice moist molasses cookie or a savory butter cookie.
Right about now, Cherry would start teasing me, she thought, but she isn’t here, so I’m gonna take my time choosing. She moved on to the selection of muffins, squinting at the little cards in front of each tray which showed a drawing of the ingredients. There were blueberry, banana nut, apple, chocolate chip, oat and timothy, and even lemon. In her opinion, they were superior to cupcakes, because once you licked the frosting off, the rest of the cupcake was just boring dough, while the flavor of the muffin went through the whole thing, top to bottom.
Still, it wouldn’t be fair to skip over the display of cakes—they were, after all, the baker’s specialty—but none of the flavors they were offering today appealed to her. Once she reached the end of the display, she tapped her hoof. I have enough for both a muffin and a piece of the oat and date bread, but maybe I shouldn’t spend all my money.
Ditzy finally settled on a lemon muffin and a glass of milk. It would leave her with a little brass as change; maybe she could save that up and buy lunch for Lightning some day. It might be a nice gesture, something the mare would appreciate. True, it would be a small token in the grand scheme of things, but it might gain her a little respect on the crew, and that was important.
After her second distance race, her coach had taken her aside and presented her with a small pewter necklace of a pegasus in flight. It was a simple thing—really no more complex than a filly might make in jewelry class. But the act of presenting the gift had stayed with her, and every time she looked at the necklace it reminded her of the happy times she’d had as the undisputed champion of the marethon. If her coach had believed in her, she had no choice but to work just a little bit harder to justify that trust.
She leaned over the table and took a small bite out of the muffin. Miss Cake had warmed it up in the oven for her, and it was delicious.
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The fireworks... they have begun...
Blah blah blah you've heard me rattle on about this chapter for more than a week now. Still, good chapter!
Cue the real comments... now!
4624281
The curse of a pre-reader, in't it?
Pretty much.
Ah the Cascade Effect, where one mistake can snowball to the next. Though lightning does have a point, practically nobody looks up, ever. Neither during the day or night, inside or outside. Well, unless they're doing it on purpose, but you don't hear about the weather except as conversation filler.
Keep going! ;)
Youve been a tea boy on the shop floor, havent you.
I think I was the only one in university, that when doing statistical quality control asked about the use of out of value products. Over sized could be remachined, but again there was statistical calculated costs, as well as recycling th lower out of bounds etc.
That was in the 80s, when we had colour multitasking computers to do all the calculations with ease, and noone cold be bothered. These days theres no excuse whatsoever.
Hmmm. Muffins.
Yeah, the nicknames remind me of my dad talking about doctors and nurses ordering supplies from materials management at the hospital. They'd use their nicknames, and dad had to pretty much ask what they were talking about, because they're not necessarily obvious. At least these nicknames sound like you could figure out something from them if you know the properties of different kinds of clouds.
4625357
One of the great unanswered mysteries of the show. The ponies seem to have awfully bendy limbs.
As for personal hygiene, I expect that the ponies have invented appropriate tools, even if we've never seen them in the show.
That was one of Luna's gripes, too, before she went full Nightmare. Hmm, maybe I'll write a one-shot where some weather pegasus gets all bent out of shape that nopony admires the clouds.....
4626457
I'm not sure what a tea boy is, so I can't say whether I have been or not. I have worked in about a half-dozen different factories, though, operating machines or doing finish work to various parts.
4627179
Nicknames at the shop for tools vary from the pretty obvious (like pointy pliers) to the very odd (the whirr whirr tool). Undoubtedly, different regions have different lingo, and then couple that with in-jokes between the employees, or "I dunno, that's what my boss calls it," and you've potentially got a recipie for disaster--especially in a hospital, where clear communication is VITAL. I figured I'd stick to nicknames where the reader can at least imagine more-or-less what the ponies are describing, rather than go way out in left field, although there are likely to be more nicknames--some weird--as the story progresses.
4627179
Nicknames at the shop for tools vary from the pretty obvious (like pointy pliers) to the very odd (the whirr whirr tool). Undoubtedly, different regions have different lingo, and then couple that with in-jokes between the employees, or "I dunno, that's what my boss calls it," and you've potentially got a recipie for disaster--especially in a hospital, where clear communication is VITAL. I figured I'd stick to nicknames where the reader can at least imagine more-or-less what the ponies are describing, rather than go way out in left field, although there are likely to be more nicknames--some weird--as the story progresses.
I bet there's better earth ponies when it comes to making clouds.
Well, there’s problems with management, but that’s normal.
Et tu, Lightning?
4697645
To be fair, Lightning isn't management; she's another working-pony (I'd say blue-collar worker, but they don't normally wear clothes
)
And yes, I'm also fully aware that in the two examples you cited,the contraction is not grammatically correct. I can also assure you that you--and you alone--make me think carefully each time I use 'there's' when I should be using 'there are.'
I'm skipping this particular nagging in most cases - it was simply grumbling: 'eh, another one?' as I think that more than half of characters did that in your fics.
BTW For a change you could use "there're" (looks funny in writing isn't it?), needs a nice brit's accent - I checked all .txt dumps I had before that previous post - not used even once, anywhere ;)
4716857
While I can hardly attest to everyone everywhere, it's been my experience that in informal use, most people use 'there's' as a general contraction, regardless of whether or not it's proper.
As for 'there're,' while it's technically correct, it looks funny. Don't get me wrong, I'll use it when called for (I'm sure you've noticed a few double-contractions in my stories [but only in dialogue, I hope]).
The fact is--and I'm sure you know--I'm willing to run roughshod over normal rules in dialogue (Ditzy's Dad's dialogue is a fine example). That having been said, whenever you feel the need to comment and tell me just how badly I've mangled the English language, don't hold back.
The only way I'll ever improve is if enough people hit me upside the head with enough 2x4s.
For what a nice Brit's accent can do to a story of questionably quality, you need look no further than AShadowofCygnus' reading of Scootaloo and Celestia: Adventures in Twilight's Gall Bladder. (he's also done Bubbles and Here I Am, among other stuff).
It's a wounder that mistake survive for so long!
I just finish reading this story even if I just wait for OPP chapters.
I guest I will read new chapter for this story as they come now.
What does tha mean?
___________________________
Cap.
_____________
Pretty decent chapter.
6398093 It seems to be a vernacular you, probably descended from thee or thou. Maybe even Germane du, or Prench tu, but unlikely given the rest of his mannerisms.
6486733
Oh, Admiral Biscuit replied later on in the fic. All of her father's vernaculars are supposed to be Yorkshire. Which I admit is a place whose accent I know nothing about. But the UK is funny in that different areas can have different accents. Some even complete unintelligible unless you're from that area.
gotta love small towns.
That's an interesting workplace.
I'm not looking forward to the whole disconnect between academia and workforce. Although my school supposedly is decent with that. Although hopefully I won't have to deal with that for a while (i'm applying for grad school).
8374495
They're the best!
It's been my experience that in the workforce what you get really varies by both the field you're in, and the place you work. Obviously, most of my experience (professionally) is as a mechanic, and I've worked at a dealership that had a nice, clean, nearly brand-new building, to my current shop that was probably built in the 50s and modified as needed from then on. It's too small, but we can make it work. I think what really makes or breaks the job is the people you work with, because you can get around a less-than-stellar workplace, but it's hard to flourish in a toxic work environment.
Oof! This unpleasantly reminds me of long haul trucking. Went to the company school where they taught safe techniques and the right way to do things, then went to the on the road trainer and got almost exactly the same thing, "here is how it actually works". That training got cut short on about day three when he wanted me to falsify my driver's time log, so the company just gave me my own truck to effectively learn on my own. For some strange reason I didn't last all that long as a long haul driver, after I realized that I was earning less money and working more hours than if I had 2 full time minimum wage jobs.
11619143
There's a whole lot of that in the world. I majored in theatre (mostly did tech) and our textbooks covered equipment we didn't have; we made due with the stuff we did. Now I work as a mechanic, and I've learned over the years what really needs to be torqued and what doesn't, what kind of repairs need to be by-the-book and what ones don't. . .
I did commercial trucking (tangentially; it was a wrecker). Worked for a company that cut corners, didn't have all the equipment they should have. A year later I got a job with another company that had the right equipment and had to be re-trained on how to do it like you're supposed to, lol.
There's a lot of difference between the real world and actually being on the job. Hopefully, all critical safety precautions are followed in the job, but of course we both know they often aren't.