Working at the Foods that is Whole
Today, I witnessed chaos in the Whole Foods back-room. Notice here: we hold an abundance of unnecessary products in back stock. Some of it is for the holiday rush; other stuff is just there to take up space, me thinks. I've had the privilege of lifting box after box of product, and my body is made of titanium alloy, the same material used in lax stick shafts. Yes, that's right, I said "shaft." Anyway, getting back to my point a coupla sentences ago--we are amassing alot of back stock, which is like being constipated because you feel helpless against its wrath or wraf.
So how about them Ring Wraiths?
That was a random comment. Some people make them often. Others are completely dumb-founded when a random comment is made. Like some of my co-workers...I mean no...I love my co-workers. And they love me.
So, I made another bale (sp?) today. It was inconsequential but let's talk baling anyway. It takes alot of muscle to make a bale. First, the baler smashes the cardboard tightly, so that it could fit in an asshole. Second, and here's where the man-hours come in, you tie the brown glob of cardboard tightly with metal that is inherently ductile, allowing the metal to be drawn into a wire. Oh shit, we just tie up the damn thing, okay? Then, the baler lifts the brown turd up and dumps it on to a strategically placed palate (sp?) to be disposed of properly. So, I made one of those today.
I damage goods too. When I don't feel like stocking them, they get smashed with reckless abandon. I relished the gawking faces as I blatantly destroyed an innocent gallon jug of milk today. The mess was glorious. My friend, Pablo a.k.a. Bitcho, the porter, erased that splatter like it was his job (moo-moo-moo). Listen in on the conversation:
Pablo: "Help"
Marco: "What?"
Pablo: "Help. Understand?"
Marco: "..."
Pablo: "Take the mop and clean up."
Marco: "Huh?"
Pablo: "You broke the bottle, you clean it up. Understand?"
Marco: "Haha, I've understood every word you've been said. You see, I'm fluent in English as I am a native speaker."
Pablo: "Oh? Dios mio!"
Marco: "hahaha. What in God's name does that mean?"
Pablo: "hahaha. Good one..."
Well, that's the end of the fictitious conversation. I did break a milk bottle, and Pablo is called Bitcho on occasion and does say "help" frequently, but that stuff about me not understanding him--well, that is obviously false. I'm a native Marylanderturd. Am I proud of that? Never thought about it. I never think.
Need the end to set me freeeee! ~Metallica, Fade to Black.
So how about them Ring Wraiths?
That was a random comment. Some people make them often. Others are completely dumb-founded when a random comment is made. Like some of my co-workers...I mean no...I love my co-workers. And they love me.
So, I made another bale (sp?) today. It was inconsequential but let's talk baling anyway. It takes alot of muscle to make a bale. First, the baler smashes the cardboard tightly, so that it could fit in an asshole. Second, and here's where the man-hours come in, you tie the brown glob of cardboard tightly with metal that is inherently ductile, allowing the metal to be drawn into a wire. Oh shit, we just tie up the damn thing, okay? Then, the baler lifts the brown turd up and dumps it on to a strategically placed palate (sp?) to be disposed of properly. So, I made one of those today.
I damage goods too. When I don't feel like stocking them, they get smashed with reckless abandon. I relished the gawking faces as I blatantly destroyed an innocent gallon jug of milk today. The mess was glorious. My friend, Pablo a.k.a. Bitcho, the porter, erased that splatter like it was his job (moo-moo-moo). Listen in on the conversation:
Pablo: "Help"
Marco: "What?"
Pablo: "Help. Understand?"
Marco: "..."
Pablo: "Take the mop and clean up."
Marco: "Huh?"
Pablo: "You broke the bottle, you clean it up. Understand?"
Marco: "Haha, I've understood every word you've been said. You see, I'm fluent in English as I am a native speaker."
Pablo: "Oh? Dios mio!"
Marco: "hahaha. What in God's name does that mean?"
Pablo: "hahaha. Good one..."
Well, that's the end of the fictitious conversation. I did break a milk bottle, and Pablo is called Bitcho on occasion and does say "help" frequently, but that stuff about me not understanding him--well, that is obviously false. I'm a native Marylanderturd. Am I proud of that? Never thought about it. I never think.
Need the end to set me freeeee! ~Metallica, Fade to Black.