Another priceless moment was when we had a chuckle at the expense of a gullible DJ.
There were three of us in the engineering shop I worked at in the late 70s, early 80s. We all had a good (twisted) sense of humor, and one of the things we joked about were the Patron Saints of engineering.
There is Saint DeOx, the patron saint of the quiet fader. Saint Zapu, the angry saint of reflectivity. Saint Estel (pronounced S T L) the patron saint of cart machine alignment.
One morning, while coming to work I see something shining in the road, and thought it was glass. Upon further inspection I found it was a chess set that someone either tossed out, or lost in a move. The pieces were all metal, and large. I gathered up the mess and went onto work where I showed my cohorts the find.
There were some missing pieces, and one of the Bishops was bent from an obvious tire strike, but we had fund placing pawns on chairs and the king and queen were set atop the FIM and AA51/AG51.
One day one of the jocks comes in to B.S. He points at the King on my desk and asks what that is. I look over at one of the other guys and we both realize that he has not a clue that it's a chess piece.
"It's a Patron Saint", I reply, and my buddy nods in agreement. "It's Saint Ghasspetal of Hamtramck, Michigan". The fellow's eyes widen and he lets loose a "wow", so we know we have a fish on the line.
I continue, "Saint Ghasspetal of Hamtramck is the Patron Saint of the GM 350 engine. It was said that several of the Polish workers in the GM plant prayed for divine guidance in solving a problem at their work, and Saint Ghasspetal appeared before them, and blessed them. The problem was solve, and GM's management all paid them a large bonus."
"Hey! I have a 350 in my Corvette", the jock says in excitement. At this point we know the hook is set, and it's time to reel in.
"You do? Well, here you go", and I hand him the chess piece. "Place this on your dashboard and you will have good luck!" He takes the piece and trots off, and this was the end of it, so we thought.
But my buddy had a better idea. After seeing it on his dashboard, we start putting gas in his car when he is not looking. It stared with just a quart jar worth, but I think after a week or two we were both putting in two gallons or more a week when he was not looking.
The DJ comes into the engineering office and is happy as a clam. "I'm getting 30 miles to the gallon on my Corvet!" He's happy as heck until we decided to turn the tables.
One morning we notice he left his car window open in the station parking lot, and we repossessed Saint Ghasspetal off the dash. We then waited, and also didn't add any gas to his car anymore.
A week later we see him in the hallway and he tells us about loosing Saint Ghasspetal. We tell him that it must have been something he did wrong, and he mumbles something about some girl at a remote, but his mileage is now down to 16 to 18 mpg. We sympathized with his loss, buy him a Pepsi and send him on his way. We give him the story never to lie about log readings, follow the format, and never leave the studio a mess, and perhaps Saint Ghasspetal would return. As it turns out, he gets hired in another market so we lost our stooge.
Saint Ghasspetal eventually returned at the AM transmitter site, (where jocks feared to tread), and resided next to Andrew RF switch on top of the transmitter. He was recommissioned Saint Crap of Amazing Zap after I accidentally took a sample of RF off the unprotected hot side of the switch by the back of my hand while trying to tighten some screws. The Saint was so named due to the exclamation I made in conjunction with event of being "enlightened".
