Punching the Clock: (Don't) stop the presses


“That’s what I like to see,” said Sun Printing employee Dan Guyer, laughing as he walked by, pointing out a large glob of thick, black print ink on my arm. I hadn’t noticed it; too busy changing the plate on the press for yesterday’s front page of The Evening Sun. Turns out, as I discovered later when my shift at the pressroom ended, that the ink wasn’t just on my arm, but smeared all down the front of me and on my face, too (I wondered why Guyer was laughing so hard). It looked like I lost a fight with a pair of shoe-polished binoculars. But, after a scrubbing with a little pumice soap and scarfing down a glazed donut in the break room, my ego didn’t feel as bruised.

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