In the factory where I worked the frames were dipped in acid, then washed in water, then passed through an oven to dry them. I think this was supposed to "pickle" the steel. The system was so crap that water used to collect in the ends of the forks and then once they had been painted, the frames would be baked again and the water would boil and bubble out of the drain holes ruining the paint! One of the jobs I had was to sit and sand off the bubbles then hook the forks back on the line for a repaint.
What amazed me in the 1946 film was the shots of blokes dipping their bare hands in the paint and getting covered in cutting oil and all kinds of other industrial fluids. Then the bloke taking the frames out of the hot bath and inhaling the steam.
Unlike the 1946 film, 90% of my factory colleagues were Asian. They used to nip into the drying oven and dump their chapatties on a shelf to warm them up. Several times a day the over-sensitive fire system would detect a fire in the electrostatic spray booth and the alarm would sound; if somebody didn't hit the "abort" button you had something like 45 seconds then to get out before the whole factory would be flooded with CO2. When the alarm sounded there was a mad hilarious rush for the exits and in seconds the shop floor was deserted like the Marie Celeste.
There was a manager called Mr Phillips who everyone hated on principle. One morning we came in for work and discovered that the overnight security Alsatian had been caught short on patrol and had nipped off a massive pile right in the middle of the packing area. Nobody wanted to clear it up so all morning we treated it like a roundabout. Just after lunch Mr Phillips emerged from his office with a job for me; spotted me languishing, raised his finger at me and headed straight in my direction with the pile right between us. I tried to warn him but he was so intent on speaking to me that he carried on in a straight line and the inevitable happened and he plonked his foot right in the pile; poor Mr Phillips just managed to avoid skidding arse over tip on his heel as the factory dissolved in roars of laughter.
