piano hinge.
“Zak, c’mon. He said take it easy because you were stressing him out.”
“He snarled ‘Back off now!’”
“Okay, so he said back off — and I think he was right.”
“I simply pointed out a flaw in the manufacturing process. The sateen lining is liable to break. The part inside the lid is glued and we use too little glue. It’ll eventually separate from the wood panel.”
“What’s eventually, Zak? What is the timeframe?”
“No clue. Could be as little as a week. Sateen lining drops, not longer attached to the wood.”
“How’s that a problem, Zak?”
“Well, the integrity of the casket is compromised. The inside’ll be a mess.”
“In a week, right? Now, your boss took precious time to explain to you that the maximum time the casket is open is about a couple hours. The relatives line up, they file past the casket, stop for a second to marvel at the deceased’s hair, the makeup and the smart clothing. They offer a prayer and walk to the reception hall to enjoy their refreshments. And unless it’s the Pope, the thing’s over real quick. Lid’s shut tight and ain’t nobody will open it until Judgement Day. So, Zak, tell me, why on earth, in this life or the next, should we manufacture a casket with a sateen trimming where the glue lasts for more than a couple hours? Please, enlighten me.”
“Gimme a break. I was just saying: eventually — I know, I know — eventually the lining will come off. I just hate a sloppy job, okay?”
