Here’s yet another excerpt from Asimov’s memoir. I’ve known many Tom Walbs in my time, so I couldn’t help but laugh when I read this, even though, as Isaac says, it nearly could have been tragic.

And then there was an accident that only I found humorous—and that, in truth, wasn’t at all humorous, but very nearly tragic—but I couldn’t help it.

What happened was that Tom Walb, who was senior to me, was promoted to P3 and moved into more nearly executive quarters behind a desk.

One time he came back into the lab—no longer with rolled-up sleeves and a dirty smock, but resplendent in a beautiful suit, tie, and collar. He told me he was going to help himself to some engine cleaner for some purpose he didn’t explain.

Engine cleaner is meant to dissolve the carbon crud around engines. It is nasty stuff—it smells bad and it is corrosive. He took one of my beakers from the tabletop, put it near a five-gallon aluminum container of the stuff, and picked up the container.

“Gee, Tom,” I said, mildly, “you shouldn’t be taking samples of that stuff when you’re dressed like that.”

Walb paused and said to me with what I thought was an offensive implication, “A person who uses the proper technique can work in a chem lab dressed in a tuxedo.”

I shriveled, of course, because everyone knew (and I most of all) that I didn’t have the proper technique and that no one had smocks and rubber aprons so continually assaulted by chemicals as I had.

Having put me neatly in my place, Walb then picked up the container and gave it a sharp, expertly twirled shake in order to set the fluid within it into a swirl so that it would be well mixed when he removed a hundred milliliters or so.

What he didn’t know and what I didn’t know was that whoever had used that container last (and it wasn’t I) had not really tightened the screw top, but had merely balanced it on the lip. That should not have been done, but, on the other hand, it was a matter that should have been checked. Well, Tom hadn’t checked it, and when he swirled the container, a jet of the foul-smelling corrosive stuff shot out and drenched him.

There was a loud outcry and he was dragged off immediately by a dozen hands and placed under a shower that we had available for just such occasions. Thanks to the instant action, he was not seriously damaged at all, but every item of clothing he was wearing, including his shoes, was unusable thereafter.

I am ashamed to say that I was not involved in this rescue effort. I was quite helpless with laughter. It is a terrible thing to admit, for Walb might have damaged himself seriously and permanently, but it struck me as such a remarkable example of pride followed immediately by a fall that I could not help myself. If a gun had been aimed at me with a promise to shoot if I laughed, I could not have kept from laughing.