Most people working on a factory floor probably don't stop to admire the beauty of the intricate process of which they are a part. At least, I've never heard any of my coworkers mention any such admiration. Then again, I don't believe I have ever expressed this feeling to any of them either but I feel it just the same. Perhaps they, like me, fear that no one else will understand.
It really is beautiful. I used to work at a factory that produced aluminum wheels for GM cars. Big bars of aluminum called ingots would be delivered to the facility. They would be placed in a giant vat that melted them into a shiny molten liquid to be poured into casting machines. The guys who ran the casting machines were typically burly men who withstood the insane heat for 8 hours at a time. The wheels would then be put on a conveyor and sent to the desprue operators. This is where the holes for the axle were cut or punched out. The wheels would then be hung on racks, 72 at a time, that were referred to as "trees" because of all the "branches". After this, the racks were placed in the heat treat and age ovens. This hardened the wheels so that they could better resist impact.
Depending on which wheel, they either next headed to the shot blaster (to add texture) or straight to Machining. The operators in Machining would slide the wheels off the rack and feed them to an encaged robot. The robot would cycle the wheels through 3 different lathes that cut all of the excess metal from the wheel. It would then return the wheel to the operator for some detail cutting with special tools. The fork truck driver would then move the machined wheels to Final Pack. They would be placed on a monorail that delivered them to rooms where they were primed and painted as they moved along. Eventually, they were taken off of the monorail, packaged, and shipped to assembly plants.
Where is the beauty, you might ask. The beauty is in every minute detail of the process. I am struck with awe as I consider that every conveyor belt, every bolt, and every air hose serves a purpose. Each tool, crafted in some other factory, has a job to do. I worked with men from a myriad of different backgrounds. I worked with men from Australia and Mexico. I worked with a heavily bearded man who chose to live without electricity. We were all brought together to cooperate with each other so that Americans could have wheels on their cars. As far as I know, none of us did this because we were passionate about aluminum wheels or automotive transportation in general. We were all enticed by a wage to produce for our fellow man. I can ascribe the same motive to the people who made the wool gloves I wore on the job, the people who sliced my lunch meat at the deli counter, and the electricians who wired the building. In all, there were millions -if not billions- of people cooperating to make those wheels. And it was the consumer, by use of the market, who directed each and every actor in this uncomprehendingly complicated process.
When consumers bid their dollars on scarce goods and services, prices form. Prices allow human beings to rationally decide what to make, how much to make, and how to distribute it. They are the indispensable tool of the market economy and, therefore, society. Entrepreneurs who please the consumer are rewarded with profits. Entrepreneurs who displease consumers suffer losses and are driven from the market. The resources that had been employed by them become available for the profitable entrepreneurs to use to continue satisfying the most urgent wants of the fickle consumer.
The wheel factory was eventually driven out of business. Chinese factories learned to produce the same quality wheels at a cheaper cost. This enabled them to offer wheels to GM at a much lower price than the American companies could compete with. The machinery was auctioned off and the laborers were released back into the marketplace where they sought the next highest bidder for their work. This too was beautiful.
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