I woke up without an alarm at 6:30; pretty standard in my life. As usual, i got roughly seven hours of sleep according to my Fitbit. I laid in bed for a while, playing on my new phone, thinking about the day ahead. I had big plans for my morning. It was payday, and i was going to pay bills and send some money to a friend serving 15 years in the Federal penitentiary in Adelanto, California. It looks as if i'm leading to a negative outcome with all of those past tenses, but I'm not. All of those things happened, and I felt good about the day.
The trouble began at work. As usual i made coffee and strolled down to my machine and turned it on. It takes about 15 minutes for the rollers to heat up, so I made small talk with a few coworkers while i checked numbers and settings. When it was up to temp, i started where I had left off yesterday.
Within ten minutes, my area was covered in destroyed, improperly laminated, 28×40 sheets of paper. The feeder- the beginning of the machine that literally feeds the sheets into the laminator- was being an ass hole, and I wasn't paying attention. That's not like me. I became agitated, frustrated, and angry with my boss for coming near me, not even to talk to me. I didn't say anything, but i had bad thoughts, and I wanted to quit my job right then and there. I'm better at handling daily frustrations than that. And, actually, being able to keep all of that in is pretty good for me.
I really don't like my job anymore, and i can't wait to leave it. Until I do, however, I need to do it properly, and try to have a little fun.
Today we had a guest that slept over in the factory. I named him Crackhead Pat. C.P. is a pigeon that got trapped inside yesterday when one of the doors was open and he flew in. I gave it the name because Pat had no visible genitals and it appeared quite androgynous to me. Also I gave him a backstory of being on the run from the cops because of a pending crack-warrant, a term I have decided to hyphenate.
My coworker and I wanted to get him out before the boss came in with his pellet gun. So, we fashioned a net out of a 12-foot metal pipe, a plastic bag, some metal banding, tape, and some staples.
The trouble began at work. As usual i made coffee and strolled down to my machine and turned it on. It takes about 15 minutes for the rollers to heat up, so I made small talk with a few coworkers while i checked numbers and settings. When it was up to temp, i started where I had left off yesterday.
Within ten minutes, my area was covered in destroyed, improperly laminated, 28×40 sheets of paper. The feeder- the beginning of the machine that literally feeds the sheets into the laminator- was being an ass hole, and I wasn't paying attention. That's not like me. I became agitated, frustrated, and angry with my boss for coming near me, not even to talk to me. I didn't say anything, but i had bad thoughts, and I wanted to quit my job right then and there. I'm better at handling daily frustrations than that. And, actually, being able to keep all of that in is pretty good for me.
I really don't like my job anymore, and i can't wait to leave it. Until I do, however, I need to do it properly, and try to have a little fun.
Today we had a guest that slept over in the factory. I named him Crackhead Pat. C.P. is a pigeon that got trapped inside yesterday when one of the doors was open and he flew in. I gave it the name because Pat had no visible genitals and it appeared quite androgynous to me. Also I gave him a backstory of being on the run from the cops because of a pending crack-warrant, a term I have decided to hyphenate.
My coworker and I wanted to get him out before the boss came in with his pellet gun. So, we fashioned a net out of a 12-foot metal pipe, a plastic bag, some metal banding, tape, and some staples.
The net was functional at best, and it served its purpose well. We were fortunate in that Pat flew directly into it. We got him out, forced some water down his gullet, and set sh/im free. As the bird flrw off, we joked about it being caught by a falcon, or simply dropping dead from stress, but the crack-addicted bird made it safely across the street.
That course of events seemed to cheer me up. I aided and abetted the capture and release of an animal that would have died either by pellet or by ceiling fan, and I did it all while I was being paid to laminate things.
I wrote this on my new phone so excuse mu punctuation; my settings aren't all conducive to proper writing yet. Ive written the entire post over the span of my breaks, and thankfully the day has passed quickly. When I leave here I'm headed for the gym where I will lift and 🏃. My phone gave me the option of replacing the word run, with a running man. How neat.
