I know you probably think my job is strange enough but I wanted to tell even more things that make it odd. I'm not talking about our Tug drag races (with or without a skier being pulled behind) or dangling from the lifts by our safety harnesses, I mean strange things you don't notice right away.
For instance, every payday each worker is given a new pair of work gloves by the management. The workers need to be able to push little buttons on our laser scanners as we work so everyone whips out their knives and dismembers the thumb and fore-finger from every new glove. And for days and days there are hundreds of severed rubber fingers and thumbs bouncing around the floor of the warehouse. Trust me, it's strange.
I was driving my tug through a remote corner of our million-square-foot warehouse and caught something creepy out of the corner of my eye. I did a double take to find that the corner is filled with sculptures of angels and ladies in crude cages, upright and laying on the floor, just strewn about. I tried to take a picture of this but just snapped it fast so my bosses wouldn't think I was up to something.
Another strange thing is this short, full-figured guy named Carl who flies off the handle any time you talk to him. He has buzzed red hair and the girliest figure you have ever seen on a man. He's really curvy. I can't get over it.
I also wanted to include a picture of the wound on my finger; I shishkabobbed my finger on a piece of wood too big to be called a splinter tonight. My camera couldn't take a good close-up though. Oh well.
Finally, my favorite thing about work: George. George is cool. He's originally from Ghana, Africa but moved to the US from England. He hardly ever speaks, except when he's on his cell phone speaking a language I can't identify. The cool thing about George is that he's got the groove in his heart. If he hears a radio pumping out a fat beat he's more likely than not to bust a move that would make Michael Jackson sit down and take notes. One second, George will be calling out item numbers and pushing buttons on his gun, next second his whole body is wagging like he's going to fly away. He can't help it. He was stuck in a warehouse traffic jam with people all around him tonight and that Kanye West song "Gold Digger" started playing. I think he was trying to resist but George started bobbing his head and he couldn't bob his head without swaying his shoulders and then it spread to his hips... everyone started laughing. I said, "Get down, George, go 'head get down."
George says he's going to stay in America because his wife will be having a baby soon. His wife will braid your hair in corn rows if you make their family dinner.
I'm sure I've forgotten about twenty other things but that's enough for now.