Yesterday at work I was slitting a box and the knife got caught and then suddenly ripped free of the tape and flew at my wrist. For a moment I was waiting for a red waterfall to run forth. . .or at least trickle. . .but only a couple of drops came at which point I reflected that it really might have been more lucky if it had been more than a nick - lying down somewhere and regaining my strength from blood loss sounded like a pretty good alternative to facing the mountain of boxes I was supposed to, unrealistically, be able to finnish. And then I started reflecting on my dissappointment that it didn’t bleed, and realised that I’m always disappointed when things don’t bleed. Not that I actually have a death wish, but blood is so pretty, particularly against my white skin. yeah so, maybe I ought to be disturbed at myself.
They really are trying to kill me at work though. This week is Inventory which means we can't have any books left in boxes when they come to do that - they all have to be out so they can count them, and they all have to be registered in our system so they can get a good comparrison of their count to our reccords. HOWEVER some numbskull higher up in the company decided now would be the perfect week to ship us all the 'summer reading' which means at least twice the normal ammount of boxes coming in each day. Agh! To top this off the trash compactor key is lost so now the back room has also become garbage storage. Egad!
1 comment:
Trust me, I feel your pain. Tomorrow (tonight?) I pull a night shift as we categorize and count everything... and due to me being out sick half this week, I'm nowhere near ready.
Ah, well.
As for the boxes trying to kill you, I almost always open them with either a key or a pen, whichever is handy at the moment. Knives are reserved only for those ones with the funky tape with string in it, because nothing else will cut them.
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