You did what?
Learn from readers
Staff -- Test & Measurement World, 1/1/2002
Got a good "goof up" you'd like to share? Tell us what you did wrong, what happened, and what you learned. We'll send a PCB clipboard to contributors whose stories we publish. E-mail us at goofs@tmworld.com.
Just call me "Sparky"
I had run final tests on a clock-recovery circuit and was getting ready to head for the drawing board to finish the schematic diagram. I switched off the power supplies at the back of my bench and removed the breadboard's 5-V wire from its supply terminal. Then, I started to remove the ground wire. Suddenly, my bench glowed with flashing lights, and smoke streamed from all the ICs on my breadboard as it hissed and crackled. Everyone in the lab immediately looked up to see my amazing fireworks. My thoughts raced. "This can't be happening! I removed the power wires! Where are the power wires?"
Sure enough, as I disconnected the ground wire, the 5-V supply wire had slipped into one of the 120-V AC receptacles along the back of my bench and had touched the hot side of the main. Every chip on my breadboard was fried, and all their tops were blown off. Worse still, an expensive bit error-rate tester was still attached to the breadboard, and all its inputs and outputs were fried, too. After that, I was known as "Sparky." Now, I place AC outlets far away from my work area.—Glen Chenier, Richardson, TX
Iron foot
Living on an island in the '70s had its advantages, not having to wear shoes being one of them. One day, I—a would-be electrical engineer—was busily soldering in my shop, which was located in an outbuilding separate from our house, when my mom informed me that I was wanted on the phone. I was too poor to own a soldering-iron holder and my desk was too cluttered to accommodate the hot iron safely, so I set it down in the only available free space, left the shop, and rushed into the house to take the call.
On returning to the shop, I loitered near my desk for several minutes, collecting my thoughts and trying to recall exactly where I had left the soldering iron. I suddenly remembered its exact location, but not in time to keep my foot from descending onto that very spot.
It was a painful way to learn not to keep a soldering iron on the floor. The soldering-iron-shaped burn mark left my sole after several months, but the lesson will always remain in my soul.—Phil Blake, Vail, AZ
