Yeah, so this Crazy Day Job I have…also titled, “Random Ravings of a Twisted Writer”
I’ve shared with some of you my crazy day job. I am working, since black Friday weekend, for this shipper of all things in the name of American avaris consumption.
The first few weeks I was so exhausted I could hardly move. Think of standing on your feet for ten hours a day doing a series of motions involved with grabbing a product and printing it’s shipping label and then wrapping it how the computer tells you to package it and then throwing it on a conveyor belt. That’s the extent of it.
Over and Over and Over and Over again.
I had places that hurt that I didn’t know where places. The sad thing, at the moment, is…. after two weeks of wrapping larger items….my arms are hurting like bejeasus. I would be encouraged it they hurt because they are getting stronger and more in shape. Then, I would have hope, at some future point, that they would stop hurting. I fear that they hurt from plain old, over use. In which case….they are just going to hurt more.
I find ways to amuse my brain while I am doing this thought numbing repetitious labor. ***disclaimer, my insane internal dialogue is just that…. and in no way intended to add pain or distress to real agoraphobes out there****
I’ve shipped some interesting things. My day might begin like this… I pick up some odd … why the heck don’t you go buy this from Walmart…. item. (NEVER to be SAID OUT LOUD at the large shipping company that wants to take over the world of consumer consumption)
“Oh, my…. The agoraphobe needs batteries. I wrap pack and toss, all within 30 seconds for small items (45 for medium sized)
Pick up next item.
Oh, my the agoraphobe needs batteries and must be thirsty (case of bottled juice) ***god that shit is heavy****, wrap, pack and toss, or plop as the case might be.
Oh, the thirsty agorophobe needs batteries, and a towel. Wrap pack and toss. This goes on for some time kinda like that kids song, “There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea”.
Oh, the thirsty agorophobe needed batteries, a towel…Oh hell, now I know why she needs batteries. I don’t ever think I’ve seen a vibrator that looks quite like that one… explains why she’s thirsty too.
Next, Humm interesting looking book on Anal sex…. Maybe the agoraphobe is a guy? That starts a whole new train of thought. Come on people, I’m an EROTIC romance writer, you have to accept that salient point.
Next, toilet paper, Hope they arranged same day shipping, can’t wait long for 12 frickin rolls of toilet paper.
They can read the book on anal sex while sitting and waiting for the toilet paper to arrive.
I can’t help it…my mind is a perverse playground of ascerbic wit and I have ten hours of mindless body distruction to survive.
I even shipped a product called, “Happy Penis”, cherry flavored.
next item, now this is really interesting.
I had an order that had several items, two or three books on being prepared for surviving the zombie apocalypse, a toilet seat that converts a five gallon bucket into … yeah, a toilet…This person take the zombie apocalypse seriously and is going to be prepared for the important stuff…no diggin a hole in the woods to poop in.
There was also toilet paper, turkey jerky (health conscious, zombie apocalypse **coughs into hand and mumbles** fruitcake) and last but not least a fluffy fru fru pastel colored, battery operated child’s playcenter music box thingy.
I had to pause on this one. What the hell? Zombie apocalypse books, turkey jerky, bucket toilet seat and paper along with this kids toy. Good grief, would I like to be a fly on the wall to check out this family.
That made me think more about Zombies and the whole concept of how to survive the zombie apocalypse. This place would be a great fricken place to stock up…not very defensible against Zombies though.
Humm Zombies, skin flaking…kinda like mine from all the dryness here. Hair stuck up in all directions….kinda like mine from sleeping on it wet cause I was so exhausted last night I didn’t dry it…..Zombies move with lurching steps…kinda like I do, these days… My arms hurt so bad. Zombies hold our their arms and they groan and moan indeciferable sounds….kinda like I do these days.
OMG, I’m a Zombie already