I missed what may have been one of the most amazing sights at the ice-cream factory. I am not sure when it happened, but some of the sanitation veterans were talking today about it.
When making ice-cream, there is usually more than one machine involved. There is one machine which pumps the actual ice-cream and additional machines for the revel (flavored sauce) and/or fruit and/or chocolate chunks and/or brownie pieces and/or whatever. All of the ingredients are then combined in one machine and then pumped into cartons.
That explained, one day, strawberry ice-cream was being made. This required a couple of different machines, one of which (called a fruit feeder) pumped the strawberries into the actual ice-cream. For whatever reason, someone opened the top of the fruit feeder while it was running, and--BOOM!
I don't think there was an actual BOOM noise, but the machine did shoot strawberries everywhere. There was a series of pipes and conveyor belts over this production line, and the strawberries just coated everything and then dripped down onto all of the machinery below, kind of like it was snowing strawberries . . . or raining chunky period blood. Either way, if I had been there, I would have run underneath the dripping strawberry goodness with my mouth wide open to catch as much of it as I could. That would have been enjoyable. What would have not been enjoyable would have been the cleaning up the mess--which the sanitation crew did . . . for several hours afterward.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake :
1/4 Gallon - Tin Roof Ice-Cream, 1 Toffee Ice-Cream Bar, 1 Caramel Ice-Cream Cone, 1 Cookie Ice-Cream Sandwich
29 June 2011
27 June 2011
Restrain That Joy
The other day, I was helping a different sanitation crew clean one of their production lines. One of the crew members, who was an older gentleman, approached me and asked how I like the job thus far. I responded with a generic "It's okay" and then was asked if I was going to try and switch from being temporary help to full-time. I answered that I would not because I will be going to go to graduate school this fall.
The man shook his head and told me how he had been working sanitation at the ice-cream plant for over eighteen years. He said that he had a lot of money saved up in the bank, offered a resigned shrugged, and then added "But I'm miserable. I'm here all the time. I never see my wife. Money isn't everything."
I've previously written about how I have yet to meet a single person who enjoys their job at the ice-cream factory. Some quotes from my co-workers include "I've been here seven years. Seven years too long.", "I need to get out of this s***-hole.", and even a bold "I hate this place."
It's ironic how during orientation the speakers focused on how eating ice-cream makes people so happy, yet the means to such an end make so many people unhappy. They even went so far as to say that we were entering the business of producing "unrestrained joy"--which may not be the exact phrase, but it was something horribly cheesy like that--but I doubt that even they felt any of the "unrestrained joy" to which they referred.
Maybe a part of the problem is that they don't restrain the joy. It all gushes out of the factory and leaks away in the gutter, leaving all of the employees bone dry miserable. For Pete's sake, restrain some of that joy and keep it for yourself and your employees!
As for me, I may have my frustrations with the job--being sprayed in the face all the time (see In The Face), obnoxious co-workers (see El Cholo), and constant heat and wetness--but the $11.00/hr and the free ice-cream make up for it all--even though I have developed a stomach problem (see The Issue). It's also comforting to know that July 30th will be my last day at this job. Then I have three weeks of hanging out followed by a big move and graduate school to look forward to. If I didn't have that escape route, I don't know what I'd do. Probably look for another job.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
1/8 Gallon - Tin Roof-like Ice-Cream, 2 Chocolate Crunch Bars, 2 Orange Sherbet Push-Ups, 2 Ice-Cream Candy Bars
The man shook his head and told me how he had been working sanitation at the ice-cream plant for over eighteen years. He said that he had a lot of money saved up in the bank, offered a resigned shrugged, and then added "But I'm miserable. I'm here all the time. I never see my wife. Money isn't everything."
I've previously written about how I have yet to meet a single person who enjoys their job at the ice-cream factory. Some quotes from my co-workers include "I've been here seven years. Seven years too long.", "I need to get out of this s***-hole.", and even a bold "I hate this place."
It's ironic how during orientation the speakers focused on how eating ice-cream makes people so happy, yet the means to such an end make so many people unhappy. They even went so far as to say that we were entering the business of producing "unrestrained joy"--which may not be the exact phrase, but it was something horribly cheesy like that--but I doubt that even they felt any of the "unrestrained joy" to which they referred.
Maybe a part of the problem is that they don't restrain the joy. It all gushes out of the factory and leaks away in the gutter, leaving all of the employees bone dry miserable. For Pete's sake, restrain some of that joy and keep it for yourself and your employees!
As for me, I may have my frustrations with the job--being sprayed in the face all the time (see In The Face), obnoxious co-workers (see El Cholo), and constant heat and wetness--but the $11.00/hr and the free ice-cream make up for it all--even though I have developed a stomach problem (see The Issue). It's also comforting to know that July 30th will be my last day at this job. Then I have three weeks of hanging out followed by a big move and graduate school to look forward to. If I didn't have that escape route, I don't know what I'd do. Probably look for another job.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
1/8 Gallon - Tin Roof-like Ice-Cream, 2 Chocolate Crunch Bars, 2 Orange Sherbet Push-Ups, 2 Ice-Cream Candy Bars
(see also The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally))
25 June 2011
Crazy Homeless Germaphobe
I am kind of a dork. It's really not a secret, and, if you don't know me personally, you have probably guessed as much by now judging by my blog entries. But I am about to take you even deeper into my nerdiness. Hold on.
At the ice-cream factory, there are actually two separate buildings, a large one and a small one. The larger building holds all but one production line. This lone production line is in the second, smaller building which is really only big enough to house that one line and the necessary mixture tanks, freezers, etc. Well, it just so happens that the sanitation crew I am on is assigned to clean this outcast production line.
Now, there are two ways to get to this separate building, one is by weaving through a series of rooms in the main factory (first via a production line, then a hallway which has been collecting random maintenance things, then the boiler room, then "the warm up" room for the freezer employees, then a cooled hallway which leads into our enormous storage freezer, then a loading/storage area) before finally leaving the building and then walking about ten feet to the second, much smaller building. The second way to get to the other building is by completely leaving the first and walking along one side of it, turning a corner, and then walking down another side of it.
On nicer days, I prefer to take the second, outside route. Not only does it provide me with exposure to pleasant weather, it also lets me pretend that I'm a spaceman.
Working in a factory, I am exposed to loud machines all day long. Thus, to protect my hearing, I wear earplugs. Wearing earplugs really lets you hear yourself inside of your own head, especially your breathing. But ESPECIALLY your own breathing when you make it a little louder and a little more labored than usual. You know, kind of like a scuba diver or an astronaut or Darth Vader.
So, while walking outside, dressed in all of my sanitation protective equipment (bump cap, yellow coveralls, plastic gloves, beard net, hair net, goggles, big rubber boots), I make breathing noises like a spaceman walking across a desolate alien planet. I even walk slower than usual so as to compliment the inner-cranium acoustics with movement similar to low-gravity movement--giving my illusion a double whammy.
Another worthy note : The factory where I work is actually situated between the downtown and a residential area. So, it's not completely unusual to see random people walking through the neighborhood across the street as you make your way to the second building (if you are using the outside route), and I am pretty sure there are a number of people who have heard me making space breathing noises while walking slowly. I sincerely hope that they do not realize that I am just a dork using his childish, overactive imagination. They may think I am having breathing difficulties. Or they may think I am a crazy homeless germaphobe. Hey, we might as well dream big.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
1/2 Gallon Hot Fudge Sundae Ice-Cream, 2 Ice-Cream Candy Bars, 1 Orange Sherbet Push-Ups
At the ice-cream factory, there are actually two separate buildings, a large one and a small one. The larger building holds all but one production line. This lone production line is in the second, smaller building which is really only big enough to house that one line and the necessary mixture tanks, freezers, etc. Well, it just so happens that the sanitation crew I am on is assigned to clean this outcast production line.
Now, there are two ways to get to this separate building, one is by weaving through a series of rooms in the main factory (first via a production line, then a hallway which has been collecting random maintenance things, then the boiler room, then "the warm up" room for the freezer employees, then a cooled hallway which leads into our enormous storage freezer, then a loading/storage area) before finally leaving the building and then walking about ten feet to the second, much smaller building. The second way to get to the other building is by completely leaving the first and walking along one side of it, turning a corner, and then walking down another side of it.
On nicer days, I prefer to take the second, outside route. Not only does it provide me with exposure to pleasant weather, it also lets me pretend that I'm a spaceman.
Working in a factory, I am exposed to loud machines all day long. Thus, to protect my hearing, I wear earplugs. Wearing earplugs really lets you hear yourself inside of your own head, especially your breathing. But ESPECIALLY your own breathing when you make it a little louder and a little more labored than usual. You know, kind of like a scuba diver or an astronaut or Darth Vader.
So, while walking outside, dressed in all of my sanitation protective equipment (bump cap, yellow coveralls, plastic gloves, beard net, hair net, goggles, big rubber boots), I make breathing noises like a spaceman walking across a desolate alien planet. I even walk slower than usual so as to compliment the inner-cranium acoustics with movement similar to low-gravity movement--giving my illusion a double whammy.
Another worthy note : The factory where I work is actually situated between the downtown and a residential area. So, it's not completely unusual to see random people walking through the neighborhood across the street as you make your way to the second building (if you are using the outside route), and I am pretty sure there are a number of people who have heard me making space breathing noises while walking slowly. I sincerely hope that they do not realize that I am just a dork using his childish, overactive imagination. They may think I am having breathing difficulties. Or they may think I am a crazy homeless germaphobe. Hey, we might as well dream big.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
1/2 Gallon Hot Fudge Sundae Ice-Cream, 2 Ice-Cream Candy Bars, 1 Orange Sherbet Push-Ups
(see also The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally))
22 June 2011
Douche Bag Of The Month
The other day, a man from a different sanitation crew was meddling in my crew's affairs. He was standing around in our work area, far away from where he was assigned to work, talking to a manager about how my crew could execute a special, one-time assignment more efficiently. Yeah. How about this for efficiency--STOP STANDING AROUND AND GO DO YOUR OWN JOB!
Other than that, this man has never done anything to me, but I don't have the best impression of him. He seems trashy (judging by the subject matter of his converastions and his Godsmack tattoo) and he is racist--and, I must add, misinformed in his racism (according to him, white men are supposed to have larger penises than black men). He also talks in a way that makes me wonder if he is inbred. I have a strong desire to ask him if he is, to just walk up to him and say "Hey. Are you inbred?", but I doubt that the HR department would let me get away with that. And to add to the inbred illusion, I think he is missing the majority--if not all--of his teeth (I've been trying to get a discrete look inside of his mouth to get a tooth count, but that's a difficult thing to do).
Anyway, the other day, everyone in the sanitation department was given a slip of paper upon which they were told to write down the name of the person who they would like to nominate as Sanitation Employee of the Month. Today, the results were revealed. And it was no other than Mr. My-Daddy-Can-Beat-Up-Your-Daddy-Because-My-Daddy's-Not-Only-My-Daddy-He's-My-Brother-And-My-Cousin-Too.
I found these results shocking because 1) he was voted into this position by his peers, meaning that a slew of people thought he deserved the title and 2) this was the second month running that he was voted Sanitation Employee of the Month.
After the announcement, he thanked everyone as graciously as a crude, (most likely) inbred man can and said he appreciated it a three or four times, as if it meant a lot to him. And maybe it did mean a lot to him, but I think it's all a joke. All he got was a piece of paper. There was no monetary reward or granting of a special parking space. So, really, what good is this distinguishment? Oh, I know. It got us out of five minutes of work. And, for that, I am grateful.
Now, I don't know this potentially inbred man, and maybe all of the interactions I've had with him are not accurate impressions of his character. Maybe he's a hard, competent worker. Maybe he has earned the respect and friendship of his co-workers. I don't know. I don't care. To me, he's just another douche bag I have to ignore. The Douche Bag of the Month, even. Maybe I should print him out a little piece of paper for that and give it to him. He can hang it up in his locker, or, better yet, frame it and put it on his wall at home.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake :
3 Strawberry Crunch Bars, 1/4 Gallon - Strawberry Shortcake
Other than that, this man has never done anything to me, but I don't have the best impression of him. He seems trashy (judging by the subject matter of his converastions and his Godsmack tattoo) and he is racist--and, I must add, misinformed in his racism (according to him, white men are supposed to have larger penises than black men). He also talks in a way that makes me wonder if he is inbred. I have a strong desire to ask him if he is, to just walk up to him and say "Hey. Are you inbred?", but I doubt that the HR department would let me get away with that. And to add to the inbred illusion, I think he is missing the majority--if not all--of his teeth (I've been trying to get a discrete look inside of his mouth to get a tooth count, but that's a difficult thing to do).
Anyway, the other day, everyone in the sanitation department was given a slip of paper upon which they were told to write down the name of the person who they would like to nominate as Sanitation Employee of the Month. Today, the results were revealed. And it was no other than Mr. My-Daddy-Can-Beat-Up-Your-Daddy-Because-My-Daddy's-Not-Only-My-Daddy-He's-My-Brother-And-My-Cousin-Too.
I found these results shocking because 1) he was voted into this position by his peers, meaning that a slew of people thought he deserved the title and 2) this was the second month running that he was voted Sanitation Employee of the Month.
After the announcement, he thanked everyone as graciously as a crude, (most likely) inbred man can and said he appreciated it a three or four times, as if it meant a lot to him. And maybe it did mean a lot to him, but I think it's all a joke. All he got was a piece of paper. There was no monetary reward or granting of a special parking space. So, really, what good is this distinguishment? Oh, I know. It got us out of five minutes of work. And, for that, I am grateful.
Now, I don't know this potentially inbred man, and maybe all of the interactions I've had with him are not accurate impressions of his character. Maybe he's a hard, competent worker. Maybe he has earned the respect and friendship of his co-workers. I don't know. I don't care. To me, he's just another douche bag I have to ignore. The Douche Bag of the Month, even. Maybe I should print him out a little piece of paper for that and give it to him. He can hang it up in his locker, or, better yet, frame it and put it on his wall at home.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake :
3 Strawberry Crunch Bars, 1/4 Gallon - Strawberry Shortcake
(see also The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally))
20 June 2011
In The Face
Being in sanitation, I spray high-pressure hoses all the live-long day. And during any given day, I spray myself in the face at least five times. There are various reasons for this, which I will list in order of frequency.
REASONS I SPRAY MYSELF IN THE FACE :
1) I try to spray the hose, but the nozzle is turned the wrong way and it sprays me in the face.
2) I drop the hose, and it sprays up at me and gets me in the face.
3) The hose becomes kinked and I attempt to twist the kink out of it. I normally succeed, but I also normally spray myself in the face.
4) I try to spray the hose with one hand and move something with the other hand. My wet rubber glove slips on the hose nozzle and it twists and gets me in the face.
5) I spray some piece of machinery, the water bounces back and gets me in the face.
6) I reach into a machine with a hose, turn it upwards, and try to spray the top of the inside of the machine. I end up spraying too close to the opening of the machine and the jet of water comes out and gets me in the face.
On top of that, I must not neglect to mention another reason I get sprayed in the face--although, this one is not my fault. To clean a machine, an entire sanitation crew works on it at the same time, and it is very often that we don't see each other from across the machine. We go ahead and spray a certain area, but the water or chemical shoots through the machine and gets the other worker, usually in the face. It seems like you get sprayed in the face 90% of the time as opposed to getting your shoulder or leg doused for whatever reason it may be. It's great.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake : As revealed in a previous blog entry (see The Issue), I have been coerced into ceasing my strict ice-cream only diet while at work. Today was the first day of eating actual food while at work, and I am glad to report that the issue did not arise today. That, however, did not deter me from eating a moderate (meaning, moderate for me).
2 Rainbow Sherbert Push-up Pops, 1 Ice-Cream Candy Bar, 1 Popsicle, 1 Strawberry Crunch Bar, 1 Strawberry Fruit Bar
REASONS I SPRAY MYSELF IN THE FACE :
1) I try to spray the hose, but the nozzle is turned the wrong way and it sprays me in the face.
2) I drop the hose, and it sprays up at me and gets me in the face.
3) The hose becomes kinked and I attempt to twist the kink out of it. I normally succeed, but I also normally spray myself in the face.
4) I try to spray the hose with one hand and move something with the other hand. My wet rubber glove slips on the hose nozzle and it twists and gets me in the face.
5) I spray some piece of machinery, the water bounces back and gets me in the face.
6) I reach into a machine with a hose, turn it upwards, and try to spray the top of the inside of the machine. I end up spraying too close to the opening of the machine and the jet of water comes out and gets me in the face.
On top of that, I must not neglect to mention another reason I get sprayed in the face--although, this one is not my fault. To clean a machine, an entire sanitation crew works on it at the same time, and it is very often that we don't see each other from across the machine. We go ahead and spray a certain area, but the water or chemical shoots through the machine and gets the other worker, usually in the face. It seems like you get sprayed in the face 90% of the time as opposed to getting your shoulder or leg doused for whatever reason it may be. It's great.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake : As revealed in a previous blog entry (see The Issue), I have been coerced into ceasing my strict ice-cream only diet while at work. Today was the first day of eating actual food while at work, and I am glad to report that the issue did not arise today. That, however, did not deter me from eating a moderate (meaning, moderate for me).
2 Rainbow Sherbert Push-up Pops, 1 Ice-Cream Candy Bar, 1 Popsicle, 1 Strawberry Crunch Bar, 1 Strawberry Fruit Bar
(see also The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally))
17 June 2011
The Issue
I am afraid I may need to stop eating so much ice-cream.
For the past two and a half weeks since I have been working in the ice-cream plant, I have been eating nothing but ice-cream and ice-cream treats for lunch and on my breaks.
Today, I went about my lunch as usual. I dished myself a large serving of ice-cream, finished that off, then ate a toffee ice-cream bar. It wasn't too long after returning to work that I began to experience some stomach pain. I won't go into detail, but I took care of business and continued working. It wasn't until after my last break of the day (during which I ate a second unhealthy amount of ice-cream along with a second toffee ice-cream bar), when I experienced additional stomach pain that I began to see the pattern. The very disappointing pattern.
I was somewhat expecting this, or something like this, to happen. I mean, it is not a good idea to daily gorge on ice-cream. I recognize that. But I was just hoping this issue wouldn't arise so soon.
I suppose the smart thing to do would be to only eat ice-cream as dessert rather than as appetizers and the main course. Lame.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
1/2 Gallon - Cookie Dough ice-cream, 2 toffee ice-cream bars
For the past two and a half weeks since I have been working in the ice-cream plant, I have been eating nothing but ice-cream and ice-cream treats for lunch and on my breaks.
Today, I went about my lunch as usual. I dished myself a large serving of ice-cream, finished that off, then ate a toffee ice-cream bar. It wasn't too long after returning to work that I began to experience some stomach pain. I won't go into detail, but I took care of business and continued working. It wasn't until after my last break of the day (during which I ate a second unhealthy amount of ice-cream along with a second toffee ice-cream bar), when I experienced additional stomach pain that I began to see the pattern. The very disappointing pattern.
I was somewhat expecting this, or something like this, to happen. I mean, it is not a good idea to daily gorge on ice-cream. I recognize that. But I was just hoping this issue wouldn't arise so soon.
I suppose the smart thing to do would be to only eat ice-cream as dessert rather than as appetizers and the main course. Lame.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
1/2 Gallon - Cookie Dough ice-cream, 2 toffee ice-cream bars
(see also The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally))
15 June 2011
The Saddest Thing
Producing a safe product is one of the highest priorities at the ice-cream factory where I work. But in order to do this, there seems to be a lot of waste as a result.
As you should already be aware, I am in the sanitation department. This means that I clean the ice-cream mixers and machines. Of course, the cleaning process is done with chemicals. And eve though we completely rinse away all of the chemicals we use, we take extra precautions to make sure that no residue makes it into our ice-cream product. We, 1) have an inspector inspect the equipment we have just cleaned to make sure we have cleaned it properly, and 2) we throw away the entire first batch of ice-cream after a machine has been cleaned, thus guaranteeing that any residue is long gone if it had, by some freak accident, been missed.
This first run of ice-cream is simply thrown into big waste baskets and then disposed of. The disposal, however, is not always done in the most timely of manners. A lot of the time, several of these large trash cans are collected in a certain area where they wait to be taken care of.
I pass this area often and can't help but look at all of that wasted ice-cream and/or ice-cream treats. It's heart-breaking. One day, there was a large number of barrels waiting to be thrown out. I took a moment to count them and there were twenty-three! Can you imagine all of that ice-cream, just melting into worthless puddles of formerly delicious goo? It's a travesty.
Now, I hate wasting food, but I especially hate wasting ice-cream. Sometimes, when I see the ice-cream waiting to be thrown out, I have these . . . urges. They vary, the urges, but they tend to play along the lines of thrusting my arms shoulder-deep into the melting ice-cream and then raising my gooey hands over my head and screaming "YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ME!" into the heavens. With equal frequency, these urges prod me to begin frantically grabbing handful after handful of ice-cream and shoving as much of it as I can into my mouth before I am pulled me away and forcibly restrained, possibly sedated. Or, if I am feeling noble, I could sneak the barrels out a side door and then dispense the ice-cream to orphans, potentially red-headed ones that frequently sing about the sun coming out tomorrow. What fun executing any of those scenarios would be. If only.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake:
2/5 gallon Rocky Road ice-cream, 1 orange sherbet square, 3 fudge bars, 1/8 gallon of neapolitan ice-cream
As you should already be aware, I am in the sanitation department. This means that I clean the ice-cream mixers and machines. Of course, the cleaning process is done with chemicals. And eve though we completely rinse away all of the chemicals we use, we take extra precautions to make sure that no residue makes it into our ice-cream product. We, 1) have an inspector inspect the equipment we have just cleaned to make sure we have cleaned it properly, and 2) we throw away the entire first batch of ice-cream after a machine has been cleaned, thus guaranteeing that any residue is long gone if it had, by some freak accident, been missed.
This first run of ice-cream is simply thrown into big waste baskets and then disposed of. The disposal, however, is not always done in the most timely of manners. A lot of the time, several of these large trash cans are collected in a certain area where they wait to be taken care of.
I pass this area often and can't help but look at all of that wasted ice-cream and/or ice-cream treats. It's heart-breaking. One day, there was a large number of barrels waiting to be thrown out. I took a moment to count them and there were twenty-three! Can you imagine all of that ice-cream, just melting into worthless puddles of formerly delicious goo? It's a travesty.
Now, I hate wasting food, but I especially hate wasting ice-cream. Sometimes, when I see the ice-cream waiting to be thrown out, I have these . . . urges. They vary, the urges, but they tend to play along the lines of thrusting my arms shoulder-deep into the melting ice-cream and then raising my gooey hands over my head and screaming "YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ME!" into the heavens. With equal frequency, these urges prod me to begin frantically grabbing handful after handful of ice-cream and shoving as much of it as I can into my mouth before I am pulled me away and forcibly restrained, possibly sedated. Or, if I am feeling noble, I could sneak the barrels out a side door and then dispense the ice-cream to orphans, potentially red-headed ones that frequently sing about the sun coming out tomorrow. What fun executing any of those scenarios would be. If only.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake:
2/5 gallon Rocky Road ice-cream, 1 orange sherbet square, 3 fudge bars, 1/8 gallon of neapolitan ice-cream
(see also The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally))
13 June 2011
Co-Worker Freak Show
Over the past two weeks while working at the ice-cream factory, I've been struck by a few of my co-workers. But when I say "struck", I don't mean I couldn't help thinking "Wow, this person is interesting or smart or fun to be around." Rather, I mean "struck" in the "Wow, this person looks like . . ." To be honest, it's kind of like a side show. Is that wrong for me to say? Well, of course it is, but I have to entertain myself--and you--somehow, right? So, here we go. Step right on up to the Co-Worker Freak Show!
Flipper-saurus Rex : I feel somewhat horrible about writing this guy, but I just have to share it. One of my co-workers has a physical deformity where his forearms are abnormally short and his wrists seem to be too long and have a couple extra joints. The other day, I heard someone refer to his arms as "flippers", and I can see that, but I think the shortness of his arms makes him look more like a T-rex. But then it hit me! He is not one or the other. He is the love child of both --the offspring of a dolphin and a T-rex, making him the Flipper-saurus Rex.
Mario : All I need to say about this guy is that he looks exactly like Mario, only he's hispanic instead of Italian. Sadly, he has to wear the necessary safety equipment and not the suit pictured on the left because neither he nor the ice-cream factory is that awesome.
The Tape Worm : There is one guy who is insanely tall and insanely thin that he looks like a large worm who has learned to walk in an upright position . . . and wear human clothing . . . and work at an ice-cream factory. I haven't bothered talking to him, but I have since started referring to him as The Tape Worm. Even his face is bland, kind of like what I imagine what a worm's face would look like.
And I musn't forget to mention El Cholo. I won't go into great detail about him here as I've already blogged about him, but, if you haven't read about this jerk, I would check out El Cholo immediately.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake :
2 strawberry crunch bars, 2 fudgesicles, 1 frozen yogurt square, 5 ice-cream candy bars, 1 orange sherbert push-up
Flipper-saurus Rex : I feel somewhat horrible about writing this guy, but I just have to share it. One of my co-workers has a physical deformity where his forearms are abnormally short and his wrists seem to be too long and have a couple extra joints. The other day, I heard someone refer to his arms as "flippers", and I can see that, but I think the shortness of his arms makes him look more like a T-rex. But then it hit me! He is not one or the other. He is the love child of both --the offspring of a dolphin and a T-rex, making him the Flipper-saurus Rex. 
The Gentleman : There is a very tall, older gentleman who looks like a less pale version of a monster off of the TV show, Buffy, The Vampire Slayer. It's actually a group of monsters, called The Gentlemen, who all look the same and have one purpose. In the show, these guys sweep into Buffy's home town and steal everyone's voices so no one can scream for help when they break into their homes with the intention of cutting out and stealing their hearts for their demonic purposes. I don't think my co-worker is motivated to or capable of stealing voices and tearing out beating hearts from human chests, but I can't help but be creeped out by him, especially when he smiles.
Mario : All I need to say about this guy is that he looks exactly like Mario, only he's hispanic instead of Italian. Sadly, he has to wear the necessary safety equipment and not the suit pictured on the left because neither he nor the ice-cream factory is that awesome.
The Tape Worm : There is one guy who is insanely tall and insanely thin that he looks like a large worm who has learned to walk in an upright position . . . and wear human clothing . . . and work at an ice-cream factory. I haven't bothered talking to him, but I have since started referring to him as The Tape Worm. Even his face is bland, kind of like what I imagine what a worm's face would look like.
And I musn't forget to mention El Cholo. I won't go into great detail about him here as I've already blogged about him, but, if you haven't read about this jerk, I would check out El Cholo immediately.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake :
2 strawberry crunch bars, 2 fudgesicles, 1 frozen yogurt square, 5 ice-cream candy bars, 1 orange sherbert push-up
(see also The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally))
10 June 2011
El Cholo
There is a certain co-worker whom I will call El Cholo (which is Spanish slang for "Mexican gangsta", in case you didn't know). He is 21 years old and super, super thin, so thin that it seems that everything on him is pointy--elbows, chin, nose, shoulders, even his eyes seem pointy.
The first time I spoke with El Cholo, it came up that I was only temporary help for the summer. At this point, he asked me if I was in college. I responded that I would be getting my master's this fall. Upon learning that I had been and will continue being a college student, El Cholo's immediate reaction was to ask "How many times did you get laid?"
To be honest, I'd seen El Cholo around in times past, but I had been ignoring him on purpose. I wasn't too impressed with him, and now I can chalk up another accurate first impression. Sure, El Cholo has tried to strike up conversations with me and be friendly, but all he wants to discuss are sexual escapades. He has never been to college and seems to think that college is nothing more than a perpetual hip-hop music video. You know the kind, the ones of wild parties with trashed dudes hooking up with girls who are even more trashed than they are.
Today, he sat down next to me in the break room and, once again, began interrogating me about my college sex life. "How many times did you get laid?" "What's your craziest story?" "You into fat chics?" "You have any kids?" "How can you not have any kids if you've been to college?" "What were the parties like?" "What kind of car do you drive? A Buick? You're never going to get laid in that."
I sidestepped most of his questions and curtly answered the ones that weren't completely trashy and/or ridiculous. Really, I just wanted him to go away, and being short with him was my subtle way of trying to get him to stop talking. I was not willing to answer most of his questions for a couple of reasons: 1) I wasn't wild in college by any stretch of the imagination. I had fun and was irresponsible on many occasions, but I focused more on grades than on being a complete douche bag, and I knew that if I told El Cholo this that his sex-warped mind wouldn't be able to process it, and 2) I didn't want to encourage him to continue talking to me.
Eventually, he started telling me stories about his own sexual conquests. He even pulled out his cellphone and showed me a couple of X-rated pictures taken while in the act. I really wanted to get up and leave, but I didn't want to make a scene or make things awkward when I encountered him at work in the future. And since I would be leaving the break room soon, I decided to stick it out. If he noticed my displeasure, he didn't show any sign whatsoever. He told me about how he was having sex with a girl in her house and how her mother walked in on them. But all this mother did was tell them to use protection and then left the room. Afterwards, he showered, ate food in their kitchen, said "what's up" to the girl's mother, and then never talked to the girl again.
At one point he told me I had wasted my time in college for not being wild. "What stories are you going to tell your kids. I studied hard and got good grades? Boring! That's not a story! You're supposed to travel the world, have kids all over the place and not even know about them until one day--AHH--there's your son's twin walking down the street." I responded that it was clear that he and I had very different priorities. What an understatement. I didn't say this, but I think our different priorities might be why I am going to graduate school in one of the United State's most-loved cities and he's working in a small town at an ice-cream factory with no plans of ever leaving. Look at me wasting my life.
I know that's harsh. I am not an elitist who thinks you have to go to college to be worth something. I'm not like that at all. But El Cholo is just a young, self-centered, conceited jerk who has no aspirations other than fulfilling his immediate desires. There may be more to him than that, but I'm not going to seek that out. I have better things to do with my time than to wade through his mindless jargon to try and find some semblance of a complex person.
I'm a jerk,. I know. But you would be too if you had to sit through ten minutes of El Cholo's narrow-minded, obsessive sex ranting.
Daily Ice-Cream Consumption
1 strawberry crunch bar, 3 ice-cream candy bars, 1 chocolate ice-cream waffle cone, 2 caramel ice-cream waffle cones
The first time I spoke with El Cholo, it came up that I was only temporary help for the summer. At this point, he asked me if I was in college. I responded that I would be getting my master's this fall. Upon learning that I had been and will continue being a college student, El Cholo's immediate reaction was to ask "How many times did you get laid?"
To be honest, I'd seen El Cholo around in times past, but I had been ignoring him on purpose. I wasn't too impressed with him, and now I can chalk up another accurate first impression. Sure, El Cholo has tried to strike up conversations with me and be friendly, but all he wants to discuss are sexual escapades. He has never been to college and seems to think that college is nothing more than a perpetual hip-hop music video. You know the kind, the ones of wild parties with trashed dudes hooking up with girls who are even more trashed than they are.
Today, he sat down next to me in the break room and, once again, began interrogating me about my college sex life. "How many times did you get laid?" "What's your craziest story?" "You into fat chics?" "You have any kids?" "How can you not have any kids if you've been to college?" "What were the parties like?" "What kind of car do you drive? A Buick? You're never going to get laid in that."
I sidestepped most of his questions and curtly answered the ones that weren't completely trashy and/or ridiculous. Really, I just wanted him to go away, and being short with him was my subtle way of trying to get him to stop talking. I was not willing to answer most of his questions for a couple of reasons: 1) I wasn't wild in college by any stretch of the imagination. I had fun and was irresponsible on many occasions, but I focused more on grades than on being a complete douche bag, and I knew that if I told El Cholo this that his sex-warped mind wouldn't be able to process it, and 2) I didn't want to encourage him to continue talking to me.
Eventually, he started telling me stories about his own sexual conquests. He even pulled out his cellphone and showed me a couple of X-rated pictures taken while in the act. I really wanted to get up and leave, but I didn't want to make a scene or make things awkward when I encountered him at work in the future. And since I would be leaving the break room soon, I decided to stick it out. If he noticed my displeasure, he didn't show any sign whatsoever. He told me about how he was having sex with a girl in her house and how her mother walked in on them. But all this mother did was tell them to use protection and then left the room. Afterwards, he showered, ate food in their kitchen, said "what's up" to the girl's mother, and then never talked to the girl again.
At one point he told me I had wasted my time in college for not being wild. "What stories are you going to tell your kids. I studied hard and got good grades? Boring! That's not a story! You're supposed to travel the world, have kids all over the place and not even know about them until one day--AHH--there's your son's twin walking down the street." I responded that it was clear that he and I had very different priorities. What an understatement. I didn't say this, but I think our different priorities might be why I am going to graduate school in one of the United State's most-loved cities and he's working in a small town at an ice-cream factory with no plans of ever leaving. Look at me wasting my life.
I know that's harsh. I am not an elitist who thinks you have to go to college to be worth something. I'm not like that at all. But El Cholo is just a young, self-centered, conceited jerk who has no aspirations other than fulfilling his immediate desires. There may be more to him than that, but I'm not going to seek that out. I have better things to do with my time than to wade through his mindless jargon to try and find some semblance of a complex person.
I'm a jerk,. I know. But you would be too if you had to sit through ten minutes of El Cholo's narrow-minded, obsessive sex ranting.
Daily Ice-Cream Consumption
1 strawberry crunch bar, 3 ice-cream candy bars, 1 chocolate ice-cream waffle cone, 2 caramel ice-cream waffle cones
08 June 2011
The Cup of The Bathroom
In the men's bathroom, there is a sign posted just outside of the two toliet stalls that reads "Please flush toliet paper in the toilet. Do not discard on the floor."
I do realize that this reminder probably results from the high number of central and south-Americans we have working at the ice-cream factory and how it may not have been the custom (and/or capability) to flush their toliet paper back in their native countries. So, really, it may be a legitimate reminder for some individuals. But what really caught my attention was not the content of this posting, but how "toliet" was translated into Spanish. Rather than "toliet" or "toileta" or even some random word I didn't recognize, "toilet" had been translated into "la taza del bano".
With my minimal Spanish skills, I recognized these words as "the cup of the bathroom". Cup? Of the bathroom? Really? I'm sorry, but a toilet does not look anything like a cup, and I don't think cups should be associated with anything you put into toliets.
I thought that maybe "la taza del bano" was a poor translation, but after asking one of my Spanish-speaking co-worker, I learned that it was, in fact, an accurate translation. Now, that's funny. I kept getting images of people squatting over delicate teacups in public restroom stalls. What a horrible mess that would be.
Deciding to look more into this "taza del bano", I Google searched it and found a silly little poem. And, of course, I have decided to share this with you.
Poesia a la Taza
(Dedicado a todos los inodoros del mundo! Gracias por soportarnos en esos momentos de tension!)
Oh taza blanca y majestuosa
Cuando tengo una emergencia para mi eres como una diosa
Cuando me siento en tu bizcocho siento que eres maravillosa
Le hablo de ti a mis amigos porque de ti estoy orgullosa
Tu taza, eres mi amiga incondicional
Porque contigo es con quien acudo cuando me hace dano el tamal
Oh taza hermosa, siempre has sido internacional
Aunque maltraten a tus hemanas en los banos publicos del tunal
Contigo voy cuando algo me hace dano
Se que siempre te puedo enctontrar en el bano
Pues todo mi malestar te llevas hasta el cano
Siempre estas conmigo los 360 dias del ano
Ah! Pobre de mi amiga cuando te tapas
Por favor no lo hagas pues del dolor me matas
Y si te botas me mojas las dos patas
Y de aquella agua salen una extranas natas
Pero gracias a Dios hoy estas bien
Porque tu gran servidora eres, ayudas sin importar a quien
Y aunque inodoro te dicen tambien
Para mi, taza adorada, suena super bien
(http://www.mundopoesia.com/foros/poesia-comica-sarcastica-sainetes-y-otros/21287-poesia-a-la-taza-del-bano.html)
I may not understand every word or phrase in this poem, but I do understand a lot of them. I also understand the overall humor of it. And I, too, have a great appreciation for my friend, The Cup of The Bathroom
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
2 Cookies N Cream ice cream waffle cones, 4 Orange sherbert push-up pops, 2 ice-cream candy bars, 2 Turtle ice-cream bars, 2 chocolate crunch bars
I do realize that this reminder probably results from the high number of central and south-Americans we have working at the ice-cream factory and how it may not have been the custom (and/or capability) to flush their toliet paper back in their native countries. So, really, it may be a legitimate reminder for some individuals. But what really caught my attention was not the content of this posting, but how "toliet" was translated into Spanish. Rather than "toliet" or "toileta" or even some random word I didn't recognize, "toilet" had been translated into "la taza del bano".
With my minimal Spanish skills, I recognized these words as "the cup of the bathroom". Cup? Of the bathroom? Really? I'm sorry, but a toilet does not look anything like a cup, and I don't think cups should be associated with anything you put into toliets.
I thought that maybe "la taza del bano" was a poor translation, but after asking one of my Spanish-speaking co-worker, I learned that it was, in fact, an accurate translation. Now, that's funny. I kept getting images of people squatting over delicate teacups in public restroom stalls. What a horrible mess that would be.
Deciding to look more into this "taza del bano", I Google searched it and found a silly little poem. And, of course, I have decided to share this with you.
Poesia a la Taza
(Dedicado a todos los inodoros del mundo! Gracias por soportarnos en esos momentos de tension!)
Oh taza blanca y majestuosa
Cuando tengo una emergencia para mi eres como una diosa
Cuando me siento en tu bizcocho siento que eres maravillosa
Le hablo de ti a mis amigos porque de ti estoy orgullosa
Tu taza, eres mi amiga incondicional
Porque contigo es con quien acudo cuando me hace dano el tamal
Oh taza hermosa, siempre has sido internacional
Aunque maltraten a tus hemanas en los banos publicos del tunal
Contigo voy cuando algo me hace dano
Se que siempre te puedo enctontrar en el bano
Pues todo mi malestar te llevas hasta el cano
Siempre estas conmigo los 360 dias del ano
Ah! Pobre de mi amiga cuando te tapas
Por favor no lo hagas pues del dolor me matas
Y si te botas me mojas las dos patas
Y de aquella agua salen una extranas natas
Pero gracias a Dios hoy estas bien
Porque tu gran servidora eres, ayudas sin importar a quien
Y aunque inodoro te dicen tambien
Para mi, taza adorada, suena super bien
(http://www.mundopoesia.com/foros/poesia-comica-sarcastica-sainetes-y-otros/21287-poesia-a-la-taza-del-bano.html)
I may not understand every word or phrase in this poem, but I do understand a lot of them. I also understand the overall humor of it. And I, too, have a great appreciation for my friend, The Cup of The Bathroom
Daily Ice-Cream Intake
2 Cookies N Cream ice cream waffle cones, 4 Orange sherbert push-up pops, 2 ice-cream candy bars, 2 Turtle ice-cream bars, 2 chocolate crunch bars
06 June 2011
Hiding
There are three sanitation crews, and my crew's lunch is scheduled from 11:30 to noon. Well, today noon came around, I clocked in, and I went to put on my safety equipment. And being the new guy that I am, and being unsure of what I was to do next, I waited for my crew-mates to return from lunch so I could follow their lead.
Well, I waited and waited . . . and waited . . . for 25 minutes. And nobody showed up.
The only reason I waited for so long was because 1) I knew they would have to return to that specific location to put on their saftey equipment and 2) because I was worried that if I left that location that they would return and then go off into the factory and I wouldn't be able to find them.
Eventually, I decided to go looking for my crew-mates, and was let in on a little secret.
My crew's lunch is over at noon, but we aren't technically scheduled to do anything else until 1:30 pm (when a specific production line shuts down and we clean up their mess). When I asked what we did for that hour and a half, I was told to "look busy." The funny thing was that no one could tell me exactly how to do that. So, I decided to follow a crew-mate around.
We sat in a back room and did nothing for about twenty minutes, then we moved to another part of the factory and sat in another place for about fifteen minutes. Then another co-worker told me to follow him. Thinking we were actually going to do some work, I asked where we were doing. He didn't bother looking at me but continued to lead the way and gruffly responded that we were "hiding."
I was lead to a part of the factory that was empty (the production line in that are was shut down for the day), and we sat down for an undisclosed amount of time.
And how did I feel about all of this?
Very uncomfortable. But that's probably only because I don't know what I'm doing. If I was more comfortable with the ins and outs of the job, I would have probably been more at ease with taking a little extra down time. But being new, and feeling somewhat overwhelmed with all of things I need to learn, I have this anxious part of me that wants to work and learn and work and learn some more. I also have a horribly guilty conscious that refused to let me take much pleasure in shirking responsibility, especially while at work.
Luckily, we were called to another part of the factory around 1:00 pm to help another crew to clean one of their assigned production lines. I think our managers are catching onto the habitual shameless slacking I just described. We'll see what happens the rest of the week.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake :
2 ice-cream candy bars, 3 strawberry crunch bars, 2 caramel ice-cream cones, 4 other ice-cream treats
Well, I waited and waited . . . and waited . . . for 25 minutes. And nobody showed up.
The only reason I waited for so long was because 1) I knew they would have to return to that specific location to put on their saftey equipment and 2) because I was worried that if I left that location that they would return and then go off into the factory and I wouldn't be able to find them.
Eventually, I decided to go looking for my crew-mates, and was let in on a little secret.
My crew's lunch is over at noon, but we aren't technically scheduled to do anything else until 1:30 pm (when a specific production line shuts down and we clean up their mess). When I asked what we did for that hour and a half, I was told to "look busy." The funny thing was that no one could tell me exactly how to do that. So, I decided to follow a crew-mate around.
We sat in a back room and did nothing for about twenty minutes, then we moved to another part of the factory and sat in another place for about fifteen minutes. Then another co-worker told me to follow him. Thinking we were actually going to do some work, I asked where we were doing. He didn't bother looking at me but continued to lead the way and gruffly responded that we were "hiding."
I was lead to a part of the factory that was empty (the production line in that are was shut down for the day), and we sat down for an undisclosed amount of time.
And how did I feel about all of this?
Very uncomfortable. But that's probably only because I don't know what I'm doing. If I was more comfortable with the ins and outs of the job, I would have probably been more at ease with taking a little extra down time. But being new, and feeling somewhat overwhelmed with all of things I need to learn, I have this anxious part of me that wants to work and learn and work and learn some more. I also have a horribly guilty conscious that refused to let me take much pleasure in shirking responsibility, especially while at work.
Luckily, we were called to another part of the factory around 1:00 pm to help another crew to clean one of their assigned production lines. I think our managers are catching onto the habitual shameless slacking I just described. We'll see what happens the rest of the week.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake :
2 ice-cream candy bars, 3 strawberry crunch bars, 2 caramel ice-cream cones, 4 other ice-cream treats
03 June 2011
Spiral Bubble Turds
The cleaning process for each machine has several steps. One of the later steps requires spraying the entire machine and work area with a foaming cleanser, but in order to get to that point, we have to fill the machine that sprays this cleanser (which machine is appropriately named The Foamer).
Filling The Foamer is fairly simple. It's a big canister with wheels, about twice as fat and slightly taller than a beer keg, and all you have to do is first put in the cleanser and then the water through a hole in the top of it. Since we fill it all the way to the top, this takes quite some time. You just have to stand there and wait and wait and wait until water starts overflowing out of the hole. But long before it gets to that point, The Foamer starts crapping bubbles.
It doesn't really crap bubbles, I suppose, but that's how I like to think of it. As you could imagine, filling The Foamer creates a lot of bubbles on the surface of the water we are putting into it. And as the water level rises inside of The Foamer, the bubbles also rise until they start pushing their way out in this long spiral tube that looks unmistakably like a massive bubble turd. At first, it pushes and goes straight up, but then gravity gets the best of the towering bubble turd and it tilts over. At that point, the bubble turd starts to loop out in long, lazy spirals that ooze down the side of The Foamer, much like how a long actual human turd will wrap around itself inside of the toilet (or on the floor . . . or car hood . . . or your enemy's pizza. Whatever. I'm not judging, and I'm also not apologizing for forcing such crude images into your mind if they hadn't been in there already).
Today, I filled The Foamer twice and was able to be mesmerized by it's massive bubble turd on two separate occassions. All I could think was "Dang. That's really long. Can you imagine how painful that would be if a human turd was that long? And thick? And what would it mean if someone crapped bubbles like that? That they have a clean colon?" No. It would probably mean that they would be dying very soon, but what a way to go.
Daily Ice-Cream Intake : 1/4th gallon of cookies and cream ice-cream, 1 root beer float pop, 2 orange sherbert push-ups, 3 ice-cream candy bars
Filling The Foamer is fairly simple. It's a big canister with wheels, about twice as fat and slightly taller than a beer keg, and all you have to do is first put in the cleanser and then the water through a hole in the top of it. Since we fill it all the way to the top, this takes quite some time. You just have to stand there and wait and wait and wait until water starts overflowing out of the hole. But long before it gets to that point, The Foamer starts crapping bubbles.
It doesn't really crap bubbles, I suppose, but that's how I like to think of it. As you could imagine, filling The Foamer creates a lot of bubbles on the surface of the water we are putting into it. And as the water level rises inside of The Foamer, the bubbles also rise until they start pushing their way out in this long spiral tube that looks unmistakably like a massive bubble turd. At first, it pushes and goes straight up, but then gravity gets the best of the towering bubble turd and it tilts over. At that point, the bubble turd starts to loop out in long, lazy spirals that ooze down the side of The Foamer, much like how a long actual human turd will wrap around itself inside of the toilet (or on the floor . . . or car hood . . . or your enemy's pizza. Whatever. I'm not judging, and I'm also not apologizing for forcing such crude images into your mind if they hadn't been in there already).
Today, I filled The Foamer twice and was able to be mesmerized by it's massive bubble turd on two separate occassions. All I could think was "Dang. That's really long. Can you imagine how painful that would be if a human turd was that long? And thick? And what would it mean if someone crapped bubbles like that? That they have a clean colon?" No. It would probably mean that they would be dying very soon, but what a way to go.
- - - - - - - -
Daily Ice-Cream Intake : 1/4th gallon of cookies and cream ice-cream, 1 root beer float pop, 2 orange sherbert push-ups, 3 ice-cream candy bars
02 June 2011
Compulsive Eating and Foam Mishaps
Today was my first day inside of the ice-cream factory. Since not much is expected of brand new employees, it was a pretty slack day. I was given the tour (but don't ask me where anything is because all I remember is a big tangle of pipes and machines), given additional training, supplied with safety equipment, shown the schedule, given a locker, and shown how to do a handful of simple tasks. I don't feel like I learned a whole lot, but what I can tell you from today is that my job is going to be a wet and sweaty one.
Being a part of the sanitation department, my job is to dissemble and clean the various machines (or "lines", as we call them) so that they meet and exceed standards of cleanliness set by OSHA and the company. In order to do this, I will have to use a number of chemicals and hoses which spray scalding water. But in order to do that, I have to wear the right equipment to protect myself from the chemicals and heat. I was given plastic overalls, a hair and beard net, a hard hat, steel-toe boots, and heavy plastic gloves which reach almost to my elbows. Oh, but I mustn't forget to mention the safety glasses or lime green ear plugs I will also be wearing. It's quite the get up, and is very effective in keeping me from coming in contact with the liquids and foams which could harm me, but where it exceeds it providing a sufficient protection, it fails in being breathable. Sanitation workers are constantly scrubbing and moving about while working in clouds of steam. You can imagine how comfortable doing this will be while being suited in so much plastic.
But I didn't think the discomfort was all that terrible (at least from what I experienced today. My first exposure was probably very mild since I wasn't on the floor for a very long time). I'm not even deterred by the repetitious nature of the job, of cleaning the same thing in the same way each and every day. I've always taken a liking to cleaning things. I also find a certain degree of repetition in my work to be comforting. It won't be the most exciting job, but that's not why I applied and stuck out the grueling two-day orientation (see Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!). The reason I am doing any of this is for the free ice-cream.
I kind of feel like a horrible person. There were many reasons for me to get this job. 1) The wages were much higher than at my previous job. 2) I would be able to live with my brother for free and save several hundred dollars in rent. 3) It would be a much needed change of pace from the pawn shop. 4) I would be able to live closer to some of my family and spend time with them. As you can see, any of these would have been a good enough reason to move and get this job--let alone all of them! But it was the free ice-cream that got me! Should I have placed proximity to family higher on my priority list than free ice-cream? Of course, I should have! But I refuse to lie. I did it for the ice-cream and the ice-cream alone. I know it and I know that God knows it and I cannot deny it. I'm a sick, sick man, but I regret nothing!
That said, I proudly report that today, on my first day on the job, I ate 11 ice-cream treats and about 1/8th of a gallon of rocky road ice-cream. It was so amazing! I just couldn't stop eating! One manager kept laughing at me and I'm sure all of the people in the break room saw my compulsive eating and knew that I was new. But I don't care! The older employees can bring their Tupperware containers filled with homemade left overs! They can microwave their Ramen noodles! They can bring in their take-out! As for me, I will eat ice-cream! Let them scowl, let them sneer, even let them shun me and spread rumors! Why would I care? I have all the free ice-cream I can stand! That said, don't forget to keep checking my running tally of the free ice-cream I've eaten (see The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally)).
Moving beyond the ice-cream, I will relate one work-related story. Today, after we had cleaned a certain machine, I was given a hose and told to sanitize the floor by covering it with this certain foam sanitizer. While doing so, I came to an area where a man who was not part of the sanitation crew was working on something else. As he was not wearing the same water-proof overalls as mine, I wanted to turn off the hose and ask him if he wanted to move so I could spray that portion of the floor where he currently was and not get the sanitizer splashing up on his pants. But while trying to turn off the hose, my inexperience caused me to fumble, which caused the hose to tilt in my hands, and which ultimately caused me to spray the man's face with foam! It wasn't overly comic. I didn't give him a foam beard or anything, but he did receive a good splattering on one entire side of his face. He didn't seem too upset about it, but everyone else was laughing like it was the funniest thing they'd seen in years. All I could do was apologize and then avoid the poor man.
Being a part of the sanitation department, my job is to dissemble and clean the various machines (or "lines", as we call them) so that they meet and exceed standards of cleanliness set by OSHA and the company. In order to do this, I will have to use a number of chemicals and hoses which spray scalding water. But in order to do that, I have to wear the right equipment to protect myself from the chemicals and heat. I was given plastic overalls, a hair and beard net, a hard hat, steel-toe boots, and heavy plastic gloves which reach almost to my elbows. Oh, but I mustn't forget to mention the safety glasses or lime green ear plugs I will also be wearing. It's quite the get up, and is very effective in keeping me from coming in contact with the liquids and foams which could harm me, but where it exceeds it providing a sufficient protection, it fails in being breathable. Sanitation workers are constantly scrubbing and moving about while working in clouds of steam. You can imagine how comfortable doing this will be while being suited in so much plastic.
But I didn't think the discomfort was all that terrible (at least from what I experienced today. My first exposure was probably very mild since I wasn't on the floor for a very long time). I'm not even deterred by the repetitious nature of the job, of cleaning the same thing in the same way each and every day. I've always taken a liking to cleaning things. I also find a certain degree of repetition in my work to be comforting. It won't be the most exciting job, but that's not why I applied and stuck out the grueling two-day orientation (see Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!). The reason I am doing any of this is for the free ice-cream.
I kind of feel like a horrible person. There were many reasons for me to get this job. 1) The wages were much higher than at my previous job. 2) I would be able to live with my brother for free and save several hundred dollars in rent. 3) It would be a much needed change of pace from the pawn shop. 4) I would be able to live closer to some of my family and spend time with them. As you can see, any of these would have been a good enough reason to move and get this job--let alone all of them! But it was the free ice-cream that got me! Should I have placed proximity to family higher on my priority list than free ice-cream? Of course, I should have! But I refuse to lie. I did it for the ice-cream and the ice-cream alone. I know it and I know that God knows it and I cannot deny it. I'm a sick, sick man, but I regret nothing!
That said, I proudly report that today, on my first day on the job, I ate 11 ice-cream treats and about 1/8th of a gallon of rocky road ice-cream. It was so amazing! I just couldn't stop eating! One manager kept laughing at me and I'm sure all of the people in the break room saw my compulsive eating and knew that I was new. But I don't care! The older employees can bring their Tupperware containers filled with homemade left overs! They can microwave their Ramen noodles! They can bring in their take-out! As for me, I will eat ice-cream! Let them scowl, let them sneer, even let them shun me and spread rumors! Why would I care? I have all the free ice-cream I can stand! That said, don't forget to keep checking my running tally of the free ice-cream I've eaten (see The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally)).
Moving beyond the ice-cream, I will relate one work-related story. Today, after we had cleaned a certain machine, I was given a hose and told to sanitize the floor by covering it with this certain foam sanitizer. While doing so, I came to an area where a man who was not part of the sanitation crew was working on something else. As he was not wearing the same water-proof overalls as mine, I wanted to turn off the hose and ask him if he wanted to move so I could spray that portion of the floor where he currently was and not get the sanitizer splashing up on his pants. But while trying to turn off the hose, my inexperience caused me to fumble, which caused the hose to tilt in my hands, and which ultimately caused me to spray the man's face with foam! It wasn't overly comic. I didn't give him a foam beard or anything, but he did receive a good splattering on one entire side of his face. He didn't seem too upset about it, but everyone else was laughing like it was the funniest thing they'd seen in years. All I could do was apologize and then avoid the poor man.
01 June 2011
Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!
I have spent the last two days in orientation, and what a grueling experience that has been. I feel like I shouldn't complain because I was being paid $11/hour to sit around and be bored--I mean--to learn! To learn! I was being paid a lot to absorb all kinds of pertinent information that will be imperative to my summer ice-cream factory employment . . . yeah. Let's go with that.
Anyway, I have decided to just give you the orientation highlights. I hope you're ready.
Size and Location : I was told this was a large orientation group. It was so large, in fact, that we couldn't meet in the corporate center where they normally hold orientations. There were about 70 of us and we had to meet in the town's convention center, which was very convenient for me since I currently live right next door to it. Over lunches, I was able to walk for less than two minutes and be relaxing at home. It was pretty awesome.
Speakers : We had several corporate employees speak to us about the things you'd expect at an orientation: harassment, dress conduct, scheduling, safety (there was actually four hours of safety training and I wanted to kill myself. I never realized ice-cream was so dangerous. It kind of makes me feel like an action hero--Indiana Jones, to be exact. I just need to buy a whip), but one lady who spoke about the boring ins and outs of daily life was very intense. When she was speaking about our ID badges, she paced back and forth with her hands clasped behind her back and spoke with the intensity and mannerisms of a military sargeant. Here is my favorite quote, "If you lose your name badge one time, we will replace it for free. If you lose it after that, it's $25 a pop. Ah! Now I have everyone's attention!" I'm telling you. This woman was borderline psychotic.
Urinal Flushing : The convention center where the orientation took place wasn't in the best shape. It wasn't falling apart by any means, but the place could have used a pretty hefty face lift. The first time I went to the bathroom, I walked in and stopped mid-stride because it looked like I'd gone into the women's restroom. Everything was in stalls, even the urinals. Yeah. Weird. But that wasn't the strangest part about the urinals. After I had relieved my bladder, I flushed as usual, but I wasn't sent off with the usual gargling water noise most urinals make. It sounded more like a choking velociraptor. What would such a vicious dinosaur choke on? A femur? Someone's oversized skull? It doesn't matter. What does matter is that the noise was made and it was pretty awesome.
Training Videos : There's nothing like training videos. And there's nothing like training videos that start off with the host saying "Oh, hi there!" as if they have been caught completely off guard. But there's really nothing like having to sit through several videos with such beginnings in a single day. Those especially annoying segments aside, there was one other video which I must mention. It was about safety and it was very melodramatic. The video was tied together by a poem which stated "I could have saved a life that day, but I chose to look the other way." The climax depicted one employee ignoring another employee's unsafe work habits. The unsafe employee ended up getting a face full of steam and falling off a ladder. The co-worker who "looked the other way" ran towards his fallen co-worker while screaming his name. The final scream, however, was what really got me. It was in that ridiculous slow-mo, monster voice that should never be used if you are trying to be taken seriously. I laughed out loud at this point even though the screen was fixed on a close-up of the dead employee's bloodied, dead face.
Phantom Limb : A large portion of the first day's orientation was devoted to convincing the new employees that our new employer was in the business of spreading happiness through producing the safest, most delicious ice-cream they can produce. There were various slides which showed happy people enjoying ice-cream--one of which being a young boy . . . WITH ONLY ONE ARM! I'm not saying that people without all of their limbs can't enjoy delicious ice-cream. No! I would never say or imply such a cruel thing! But I must not forget to mention was how the one-armed boy was screaming. I realize his scream was meant to convey his excitement for the ice-cream cone treat he held in his one and only hand, but I thought it looked more like he was experiencing a sharp bout of phantom limb and he just couldn't endure the pain silently. That poor child.
Mind Control : At the end of the second day of orientation, we had a food quality specialist speak to us . . . and speak to us . . . and speak to us . . . I realize that he didn't take any longer than the four hour safety training we had that same morning, but it was getting close to the end of the overall orientation and I was just tired of listening. At one point, the quality specialist kept showing us various pieces of paperwork and pointing out facts none of us were going to remember until we actually had to deal with said paperwork. I couldn't help but glare at the man and viciously think "MOVE ON! MOVE ON! MOVE ON!" and then he did! By golly, it worked! I'm going to have to try that again sometime in the near future.
Public Announcements : Since we met in a building that is meant to be utilized for various community purposes, there was a bulletin board in the hallway just outside of the room where we met for orientation. One such announcement on this bulletin board sported a bold heading that declared "COMMERCIAL MANURE CERTIFICATION". The announcement said a whole slew of things under the title, but I didn't really understand anything it said. I just really appreciated the title.
At the end of the second day of orientation, we were shown the various ice-cream plants where we would be working. While there, we were shown the break room. The magical break room where we will be allowed to eat all the free ice-cream that we can manage to stuff ourselves with. I was so close to the free ice-cream that it hurt. I wanted to just sit down and eat and eat and eat, but there were lots of people around and I figured that would be frowned upon. I wasn't on break, after all. But, come tomorrow. Oh, yes, come tomorrow I will begin fulfilling my purpose for getting this job in the first place. I can't wait.
PS - I am excited for beard nets.
Anyway, I have decided to just give you the orientation highlights. I hope you're ready.
Size and Location : I was told this was a large orientation group. It was so large, in fact, that we couldn't meet in the corporate center where they normally hold orientations. There were about 70 of us and we had to meet in the town's convention center, which was very convenient for me since I currently live right next door to it. Over lunches, I was able to walk for less than two minutes and be relaxing at home. It was pretty awesome.
Speakers : We had several corporate employees speak to us about the things you'd expect at an orientation: harassment, dress conduct, scheduling, safety (there was actually four hours of safety training and I wanted to kill myself. I never realized ice-cream was so dangerous. It kind of makes me feel like an action hero--Indiana Jones, to be exact. I just need to buy a whip), but one lady who spoke about the boring ins and outs of daily life was very intense. When she was speaking about our ID badges, she paced back and forth with her hands clasped behind her back and spoke with the intensity and mannerisms of a military sargeant. Here is my favorite quote, "If you lose your name badge one time, we will replace it for free. If you lose it after that, it's $25 a pop. Ah! Now I have everyone's attention!" I'm telling you. This woman was borderline psychotic.
Urinal Flushing : The convention center where the orientation took place wasn't in the best shape. It wasn't falling apart by any means, but the place could have used a pretty hefty face lift. The first time I went to the bathroom, I walked in and stopped mid-stride because it looked like I'd gone into the women's restroom. Everything was in stalls, even the urinals. Yeah. Weird. But that wasn't the strangest part about the urinals. After I had relieved my bladder, I flushed as usual, but I wasn't sent off with the usual gargling water noise most urinals make. It sounded more like a choking velociraptor. What would such a vicious dinosaur choke on? A femur? Someone's oversized skull? It doesn't matter. What does matter is that the noise was made and it was pretty awesome.
Training Videos : There's nothing like training videos. And there's nothing like training videos that start off with the host saying "Oh, hi there!" as if they have been caught completely off guard. But there's really nothing like having to sit through several videos with such beginnings in a single day. Those especially annoying segments aside, there was one other video which I must mention. It was about safety and it was very melodramatic. The video was tied together by a poem which stated "I could have saved a life that day, but I chose to look the other way." The climax depicted one employee ignoring another employee's unsafe work habits. The unsafe employee ended up getting a face full of steam and falling off a ladder. The co-worker who "looked the other way" ran towards his fallen co-worker while screaming his name. The final scream, however, was what really got me. It was in that ridiculous slow-mo, monster voice that should never be used if you are trying to be taken seriously. I laughed out loud at this point even though the screen was fixed on a close-up of the dead employee's bloodied, dead face.
Phantom Limb : A large portion of the first day's orientation was devoted to convincing the new employees that our new employer was in the business of spreading happiness through producing the safest, most delicious ice-cream they can produce. There were various slides which showed happy people enjoying ice-cream--one of which being a young boy . . . WITH ONLY ONE ARM! I'm not saying that people without all of their limbs can't enjoy delicious ice-cream. No! I would never say or imply such a cruel thing! But I must not forget to mention was how the one-armed boy was screaming. I realize his scream was meant to convey his excitement for the ice-cream cone treat he held in his one and only hand, but I thought it looked more like he was experiencing a sharp bout of phantom limb and he just couldn't endure the pain silently. That poor child.
Mind Control : At the end of the second day of orientation, we had a food quality specialist speak to us . . . and speak to us . . . and speak to us . . . I realize that he didn't take any longer than the four hour safety training we had that same morning, but it was getting close to the end of the overall orientation and I was just tired of listening. At one point, the quality specialist kept showing us various pieces of paperwork and pointing out facts none of us were going to remember until we actually had to deal with said paperwork. I couldn't help but glare at the man and viciously think "MOVE ON! MOVE ON! MOVE ON!" and then he did! By golly, it worked! I'm going to have to try that again sometime in the near future.
Public Announcements : Since we met in a building that is meant to be utilized for various community purposes, there was a bulletin board in the hallway just outside of the room where we met for orientation. One such announcement on this bulletin board sported a bold heading that declared "COMMERCIAL MANURE CERTIFICATION". The announcement said a whole slew of things under the title, but I didn't really understand anything it said. I just really appreciated the title.
At the end of the second day of orientation, we were shown the various ice-cream plants where we would be working. While there, we were shown the break room. The magical break room where we will be allowed to eat all the free ice-cream that we can manage to stuff ourselves with. I was so close to the free ice-cream that it hurt. I wanted to just sit down and eat and eat and eat, but there were lots of people around and I figured that would be frowned upon. I wasn't on break, after all. But, come tomorrow. Oh, yes, come tomorrow I will begin fulfilling my purpose for getting this job in the first place. I can't wait.
PS - I am excited for beard nets.
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