The Summer of Free Ice-Cream (A Running Tally)

Saying that I love ice-cream is an understatement. A more accurate phrase would be that I am obsessed with ice-cream. To provide some degree of perspective into my zeal, I would have you know that there was a point in my life (a fairly recent point) when I was eating ice-cream daily. I would buy it gallons at a time and eat directly out of the large 5-quart tubs. But due to a concern about my financial budget and general health, I decided to moderate my consumption. I struggled with this for months, attempting to quit cold turkey, but returning to the ice-cream isle each week and peering through the glass doors for sales. I was never able to fully wean myself off that most supreme of desserts, but I felt that I developed a more moderate and healthy relationship with ice-cream. That relationship, however, has been sacrificed. Past goals of moderation be damned, I am about to embark on what will henceforth be known as THE SUMMER OF FREE ICE-CREAM.

I previously worked at a Dairy Queen and consumed many gallons of my sweet addiction, but that former job did not provide me with undeterminated amounts of free ice-cream. I was able to drink free shakes and an occassional ice-cream blunder, but I had to pay half-price for most of what I wanted. My current summer job, on the other hand, promises to provide me with all of the ice-cream I could possibly desire while on breaks. I have heard beautiful tales of their break rooms. Break rooms stocked with a dazzling array of delicious ice-cream things. I have also heard tales of how if there is something lacking in the break rooms that the employees are free to waltz (others may not waltz, but, believe me, I will waltz) over to a production line, grab a case of whatever they desire, and then retreat to the break room with the captured bounty to gorge themselves. After I am through with this job, the company may change their policies due to it being abused. There is a strong chance I may ruin this free ice-cream perk for everyone, but I don't care. Just as long as the benefit is removed AFTER I have bid my farewell. Otherwise, I will riot.

Being the obsessive monster that I am, I have a goal of tracking every ice-cream treat I will blissfully consume this summer. I will be updating this blog entry regularly with all of the ice-cream things I have eaten. Check back regularly for updates.

THE LIST OF FREE GOODNESS

2 - Pieces of ice-cream cake (this was free, but pre-employment)
1 - Double scoop waffle cone (this was free, but pre-employment)
1 - Double scoop sugar cone (this was free, but pre-employment)
1 - "Goliath Ice-cream Sundae" (consisting of 12 scoops of ice-cream and three toppings)
52 - Ice-cream candy bars
10 - Fudgesicles
1 - Orange/Vanilla Treat
1 - Root Beer Float creamsicle
40 - Orange Sherbert push-ups
2 - Orange Sherbert squares
2 - Popsicle
7 - Rainbow sherbert push-ups
5 - Ice-cream bar
6 - Miscellaneous ice-cream treats
4 - Cookies N Cream ice-cream waffle cones
1 - Vanilla and hot fudge waffle cone
2 - Vanilla waffle cone
1 - Banana Split waffle cone
2 - Peanut Butter Parfait treats
3 - Vanilla with carmel and brownie waffle cone
9 - Vanila with carmel ice-cream waffle cones
2 - Cookie Ice-Cream sandwich
5 - Chocolate ice-cream waffle cone
24 - Strawberry crunch bars
22 - Chocolate crunch bars
5 - Turtle ice-cream treats
1 - Frozen yogurt square
1 - Strawberry fruit bar
4 - Toffee ice-cream bars
1.375 Gallons - Chocolate and Caramel ice-cream
1/2 Gallon - Strawberry ice-cream
1/8 Gallon - Cherry Nut Fudge ice-cream
1/2 Gallon - Hot Fudge Sundae ice-cream
1.75 Gallons - Tin Roof Sundae ice-cream
1/4 Gallon - Strawberry Cheesecake ice-cream
1/4 Gallon - Butter Toffee ice-cream
1.5 Gallons - Rocky Road ice-cream
1.125 Gallons - Cookies'n'Cream ice-cream
1 Gallon - Cookie Dough ice-cream
1/8 Gallon - Blueberry Pomagranate ice-cream
3/8 Gallon - Neapolitan ice-cream
1.125 Gallons - Birthday Cake ice-cream
1/4 Gallon - Caramel Pecan ice-cream
3/8 Gallon - Chocolate Brownie ice-cream

Beginning Weight : 178     Current Weight : 177.5

last updated : 23 July 2011

What a joy it will be to watch this list grow and grow and grow all summer long. And what an even great joy it will be when I remember that all of it was free.

Selling My Soul

As stated in a previous blog entry (see Changes Are Coming), I had been planning to leave my job at the pawn shop in the hopes of becoming employed at an ice-cream factory for a change of pace and higher wages over the summer. Done and done. I submitted an online application to this ice-cream factory several weeks ago and received a reply that I was REQUIRED (yes, it was in bold and caps lock in the e-mail they sent me) to attend what they called a Career Fair.

When I think of a Career Fair, I think of those things colleges set up to help students get internships or summer jobs which will provide useful experience to aid them in advancing in their future professional fields. This Career Fair, however, was nothing more than a hiring blitz this company regularly conducts throughout the summer to find much needed temporary help. Hundreds of people show up, fill out applications, are interviewed, and are hired on the spot. Thus, the stipulation for me to attend this meant that they wanted to mix me in amongst the droves of people they planned to interview and hire. But it doesn't matter that the label of Career Fair was just a shameless attempt to inject pride and legitimacy into what they were doing because I knew what I was getting myself into and I was doing it strictly for the money. I'm like a prostitute like that. It's okay.

So, the Career Fair was situated in a community center and I got there right before the masses really started filing in. There were several steps throughout the hiring process, but while I waited for this process to begin, I was seated in an area where there was a TV showing a video of various production lines, and it looked miserable. People moving boxes off conveyor belts or mechanically filling boxes with frozen treats. That was it. No cheesy smiles or thumbs up. To be honest, I think the video was meant to scare away the people who didn't realize that production is not terribly unlike the eternal torture poor Sisyphus (the guy who pushes the boulder up the hill in Hell for eternity) must endure. Luckily, I was given a tip.

There are a couple summer positions open, but my brother-in-law (who currently works for this company) told me to ask about a job in sanitation. Someone in production either fills product into machines, makes sure the machines are making the treats properly, fills boxes, or moves boxes from location A to location B. Someone in sanitation, on the other hand, moves around the entire plant and takes apart, cleans, and reassembles machines. Apparently, this is better because it provides you with more mobility throughout the day and is not quite as painfully monotonous as being on a production line.

The Career Fair was composed of several steps: preliminary interview, comprehension testing, final interview, paperwork, all of which were interspersed with healthy doses of waiting. For me at least, the Fair went smoothly. The man who conducted my final interview ended up knowing my brother-in-law and thought very highly of him. Hooray for in-laws!

One thing I found disconcerting was how miserable and exhausted the man conducting my interview looked. He didn't attempt to reassure me that the job wasn't going to be horrible. All he seemed able to do was look at me with this pitiful deadness in his eyes. It was obvious that he hated his job. This was not a good sign, but I only have to put up with this for two months. I can do this.

In the end, I was offered a position in sanitation (pending I successfully pass a drug test and physical) at 11/hour and 60+ hours a week. Money, money, money! I know that the man who interviewed me looked like he wanted to kill himself, but I respect him for his scruples. He could have lied about how interesting and rewarding the job was, but he didn't. Besides, my current naivety convinces mto to think that my new job won't be that horrible. I will get to dissemble all kinds of machines, which sounds pretty cool to me. Plus, I get paid pretty well and get free ice-cream while on the job. That's really all I need. I would sell my soul for free ice-cream, and, in a way, I am.

Today, I went to the drug test and physical. The drug test should be self-explanatory, but the physical was a bit more interesting. I had to prove that I could lift and move around various things of various weights. I also had to squat and hold my wrists in strange positions. I squatted and walked across a room on my heels. I told them what colors I saw on a wall. I squeezed and pinched devices that measured how much pressure I put on them. I even flapped my arms a little bit. It was kind of silly, but the worst part was how impersonal the woman doing my physical was. She didn't feign a smile or indulge in chit-chat whatsoever. I have concluded that this woman also hates her job. And to add to the list, my brother-in-law has told me that he wishes he could quit everyday. I recently met a friend/co-worker if his who also told me the same. Everyone--literally everyone--that I know who works for this company has either told me or given off obvious signs that they hate their jobs. This should be interesting.

My Last Day Mistake

At last, The Great and Dreadful Day has come and gone, and I can now officially say that I am finished with my pawn shop career (even though I may consider working at a pawn shop where I’m moving since I am led to believe it would be more exotic), and what a career it was.

Over all, nothing terribly exciting happened on my last day at the pawn shop. I was in a really good mood for the most part. I smiled a lot more than I generally do because I couldn’t hide my thankfulness for leaving behind the many annoyances of the pawn shop (understaffing, overworking, not getting breaks, dealing with stupid customers, dealing with moody managers, haggling, having more merchandise than we can sell and not knowing where to store it in our already overflowing warehouse). Like I said before, it’s not that I hated working at the pawn shop, but it definitely had its low points. But, other than my blatant euphoria, there is one story I would like to relate about my final day.

It begins with a slightly annoying woman entering the pawn shop with the purpose of buying an MP3 player me being the unfortunate employee who was wrangled into helping her find what she wanted. After finding an MP3 play that satisfied her, she realized that she also needed to buy headphones.

The pawn shop has several varieties of headphones. We have some pretty nice used Turtle Beach ones and then we have brand new ones which are very cheap. The woman was, of course, interested in the cheaper headphones, and, for some reason, I told her how it seemed like the headphones she was buying tended to fall apart soon after being purchased.

Well, guess what happened. The woman bought the MP3 player and headphones, the headphones fell apart, and the woman returned with the shoddy headphones in hand. Only, this time, she came across the store manager instead of me and explained the situation without forgetting to include the detail of how I had warned her of the potentially shoddy craftsmanship of the headphones she was purchasing.

What an annoying, tactless woman.

Of course, I had no idea that the woman was returning the headphones (and MP3 player, too. It turns out the headphone jack was stripped). I was just going about my business, unsuspecting any pending chastisement, when the store manager approached me and said she did not appreciate me telling customers that our merchandise was crap. She then asked why I had never said anything about the headphones breaking so often before that and why I would have sold the headphones if I had known they were worthless.

I explained that I wasn’t talking bad about the merchandise, but that I was more or less thinking aloud. I had seen three pairs of those headphones turned because they had “fallen apart” on the customer, but it hadn’t been until then that I had connected the dots and considered the fact that they were all poorly made.

Oops.

There wasn’t much more that I could do other than apologize and I did that and then went back to work. I felt horrible, but, eh, I made a mistake and it was my last day. Did I really care that much? Maybe I should have, but I didn’t.