Triple decker Birdseye and hatred for binding
Back when I worked at the bindery, I had trouble communicating with my boss. He'd try to shoot the shit with me, but I'm pretty sure he was just doing that so I didn't go home and hang myself after working in his shitty bindery every day of the summer.
For lunch, I'd pack myself sandwiches that had two layers to them. Bread, meat, bread, meat, bread. These sandwiches were probably the most exciting part of my day, which says more about the bindery than it does my sandwiches.
One day my boss walked by and saw the three pieces of bread and said, 'WOW! Triple decker Birdseye!' I smiled, then said, 'Well, it's not really a triple decker sandwich. There are three pieces of bread, but that just means there are two layers to it, which makes it a double decker sandwich. However, I get what you're saying.'' He'd stopped listening before I even opened my mouth, which meant that he had just made me some asshole talking about his sandwich on his lunch break.
Man, I hated that bindery.
(out.)
When I think about my favorite bindery experiences from the two months I worked there, I can come up with two. The first is the time a coworker made me this awesome macaroni and cheese on my birthday. The second is the time I took this huge dump at work and I got to stop putting art catalogs in boxes for like ten minutes.
Those are pretty much the fondest memories I have of the bindery. Eating and pooping.
Going to the bathroom at work was a treat because it was easily the most stimulating activity at the bindery. My two favorite bindery experiences could have been combined into one amazing day at work if the macaroni and cheese gave me the really bad diarrhea I so desired. I would have eaten lunch, punched in, then sat in the bathroom with my glorious, glorious indigestion at 8 dollars an hour.
For lunch, I'd pack myself sandwiches that had two layers to them. Bread, meat, bread, meat, bread. These sandwiches were probably the most exciting part of my day, which says more about the bindery than it does my sandwiches.
One day my boss walked by and saw the three pieces of bread and said, 'WOW! Triple decker Birdseye!' I smiled, then said, 'Well, it's not really a triple decker sandwich. There are three pieces of bread, but that just means there are two layers to it, which makes it a double decker sandwich. However, I get what you're saying.'' He'd stopped listening before I even opened my mouth, which meant that he had just made me some asshole talking about his sandwich on his lunch break.
Man, I hated that bindery.
(out.)
When I think about my favorite bindery experiences from the two months I worked there, I can come up with two. The first is the time a coworker made me this awesome macaroni and cheese on my birthday. The second is the time I took this huge dump at work and I got to stop putting art catalogs in boxes for like ten minutes.
Those are pretty much the fondest memories I have of the bindery. Eating and pooping.
Going to the bathroom at work was a treat because it was easily the most stimulating activity at the bindery. My two favorite bindery experiences could have been combined into one amazing day at work if the macaroni and cheese gave me the really bad diarrhea I so desired. I would have eaten lunch, punched in, then sat in the bathroom with my glorious, glorious indigestion at 8 dollars an hour.
posted by Henry at 11:16 PM
1 Comments:
When I poo at work, I just feel really awk.
"Where'd Kel go?"
"To the ladies' room."
::ten minutes later::
"Did Kel get back from the BATHROOM, yet?"
"Um... Not sure..."
::calls my office::
"Nope -- not back, YET."
And that's why I poop at home.
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