New project!

Listening to This American Life today while I sliced some bread I was inspired to start a new writing project.  It's going to be based around the Drake Equation.  Using the variables from the equation I hope to crank out some poetry and short stories that follow a theme.  I've been into theme lately.  I don't know what it is.  Can't help it.  Just letting you all know my plans so you don't bite my rhymes.

I'm going to bring the pain if you don't take a look at this.

Clicking here will take you to another site.  It won't bring you to another site.

VXY 8582

Hey!  Dumb bitch driving the Mazda Protege, license plate number VXY 8582.  Yeah.  You, driving in the far left lane really slowly.  I know you didn't see me yelling at you or pointing or motioning for you to get over because you were off in your own little world.  The left lane is for adults that want to drive faster.  You weren't passing anyone, and yes, that is why it's called the "Passing Lane."  Maybe they don't teach that at State.

Work makes work go faster.

I've seen it thousands upon thousands of times, walking back and forth to the label machine, on breaks sitting by the boxes of liner bags, or boxing mini-cookies.  The scrolling, simple screen saver of the label maker computer: "Work makes work go faster."  Such a simple axiom, and yet it seems to have escaped several of my current teammates.  Like Clay so many months ago, suddenly there is a rush to get out of work early.  And the same people that want to leave early are the same ones that talk to me about how they're having money problems.  Now, before you assume they're justified in complaining you have to remember that we're paid by the hour.  We are not salaried workers.  It would be awesome if we were, but it would cost the company a lot of money, and our gainshare would turn to nothing.

Bonnie just started school to become an esthetician, but this problem has been continuous since day one.  She leaves at 3.  Granted, she works a 7 - 3 shift every day.  No exceptions.  But, she leaves directly at three.  Those of you that have talked to me about my job know that I never know what time I will be done from day to day.  I could leave at 2:30 or I could work past six.  Them's the brakes.  And yet, every day, she walks away from whatever is going on at 2:55 or sooner.  There was a week recently where she was leaving at 2:45, and even 2:30.  This is ridiculous.  I can speak from experience that I once walked off and left part of a rack of rolls when I first started.  I think I was trying to catch lunch with everyone else.  I was told, in the middle of my lunch, to go back and finish the rack before I continued my lunch.  Now, today, Bonnie can walk off and leave half a rack of demi-baguettes.  Having tits does not mean you get to do whatever you please.  Though, with Craig in charge for the next couple of weeks I wouldn't be too shocked to find she gets away with whatever she wants.  This is the same person that leaves after being at work for a few hours at least once a week.  She can't get in trouble for being sent home, but it is aggravating to be down a person once a week.  No one gets sick that often, and if she does, it's her responsibility to get checked out.  And if she can't get checked out, then dying is always an option.  It's the Darwinian thing to do.  And no, taking care of your husband who is out on disability is not an excuse.  I was out for close to three months, and no one stayed home with me.  By the second month I could even wash myself.  He only has a week left before he comes back, so being disabled is a slim possibility.

Anyway, on to the next idiot.  Nick, our newest hire is that awkward kid who likes anime a little too much, and lives on his computer.  I would be amazed to find out that he spoke face to face with anyone outside of work.  He's a little too loud, and not communicating through an avatar doesn't suit him.  I don't think a day has gone by where he hasn't asked me what time I think we'll finish that particular day.  "I don't know, Nick."  I don't remember a time in recent history when he hasn't tried to leave early.  You know why?  I have never met anyone so petrified by the idea of traffic.  I don't know why this is.  Perhaps he was a fully functioning adult at one point, and a car accident left him an adolescent trapped in a near 30-year-old's body.  In that case, I can understand being scared of a little traffic.  In any case, conversing and interacting with him is like working with Helen Keller.  I feel like a miracle worker if I can get him to understand something I've said.  He doesn't seem to respond to stimulus, such as making a comment about something he has said.  He kind of stares at you blankly and goes on talking about how horrible the situation in Michigan is.  Snow's always higher.  Weather's always colder.  Auto workers always have it worse.  Jesus.

I guess I'm really ticked off because nothing is going to be done about this.

I had to stand and stare at a wall for eight hours today.  It's not pleasant.  Staring at this sign and proof reading it over and over again, thousands of times a day while walking back and forth in a three foot circle while pressing your hands together is a shit time.  It builds character and destroys my right knee.  Some people just have it coming.  I'm going to try and get out before the storm hits.  Just in case idiot is contagious.