Well, that job sucked. Not a chance I'm going back tomorrow.
I spent three hours today literally up to my elbows in half-melted ice cream. You know, there's a reason that job was temporary - no sane man would agree to do it for more than a few days.
I got up yesterday at 5:30am. The only time I usually see 5:30 is when I've yet to go to bed. I spent 8 hours standing on a step ladder feeding polystyrene cups into a hopper, which were then filled with rasperry ripple ice cream. There was a clock right in front of my face and the hours dragged like a fat guy with no legs trying to climb a big hill.
Anyway, the machine broke down after lunch today, so I was sent to empty rejected tubs of ice cream into a big bin to be recycled with the next batch. I wore a pair of thin surgical gloves, so I couldn't feel my hands by the time I left. Think I'm a wuss? Go to your freezer and pick up a tub of ice cream.
Now hold it.
Give it another few minutes.
Hurts, don't it?
Anyway, my sweater was sticky and white to the elbows and my hands still stink of vanilla 4 hours later, despite 10 minutes scrubbing with hardcore handwash.
Don't get me wrong - I've never been afraid of a little hard work, and I've had more than my share of shit jobs, but seriously - I had to climb into a dumpster with 10 bin bags full of melted champagne sorbet. It was like the scene in Fight Club where they steal that human fat.
And I swear every guy at the factory was based on Lenny from Of Mice and Men.
P.S. I just realised that today is the 5-year anniversary of the first time I got fired from a job. Quitting. What an apt way to celebrate.