Complaining about Complaining
Today I made and packaged exactly 68,342 plastic caps alongside a woman named Tammy.
I have no idea where these caps will go, and would die happier if I never saw another 78182 code color blue cap in my damn life, but this is not about the job, it is about Tammy.
And Donna.
And complaining.
Yes, my friends, this is a blog complaining about those who complain. Hypocritical? Just a tad.
We have to wear these smock/shirts to work, which apparently is new because there is an extreme uproar of all society as we know it. I do believe that my trainer, Miss Tammy, managed to talk to every single person in the plant about how much she disliked the smocks.
Said to the tune of a whiny voice:
"They are hotttttt." (Um, was she working? No, I do believe that it was me running the machine by myself on my first day with jeans on as she ran around complaining to people)
"They bleed through to my white shiiirrrtt." (Dear god lady put the smock back on!)
"They look like we are in a bowling league!" (Okay I agreed with her here)
"What's next? No shorts?!" (If I were in charge, that would be my rule so as not to see everyone's crazily pasty legs)
Tammy complained because 'she had rights, damn it!' and because she was avoiding work.
Donna, however, complained to fill the silence.
Big no-no. After 8 hours, me-practically a Quaker- almost decked her. She was someone's grandma and I seriously could have knocked her out.
Perhaps it is the hot environment, or perhaps it is the fact that my uncle is the plant manager and maybe even helped iniate the smocks, but complaining today was not my cup of tea.
Which is why I'm complaining about it.
Really, though, why do we complain? It certainly won't change things. My blogging about it will not make Tammy or Donna appreciate their jobs and love living.
Oh yah- because it's fun.
Hoorah for complaining/ ew I hate complainers.
PS. I have a conscience and I cannot let this go-I lied, I'm not practically a Quaker. Whew, relief.
I have no idea where these caps will go, and would die happier if I never saw another 78182 code color blue cap in my damn life, but this is not about the job, it is about Tammy.
And Donna.
And complaining.
Yes, my friends, this is a blog complaining about those who complain. Hypocritical? Just a tad.
We have to wear these smock/shirts to work, which apparently is new because there is an extreme uproar of all society as we know it. I do believe that my trainer, Miss Tammy, managed to talk to every single person in the plant about how much she disliked the smocks.
Said to the tune of a whiny voice:
"They are hotttttt." (Um, was she working? No, I do believe that it was me running the machine by myself on my first day with jeans on as she ran around complaining to people)
"They bleed through to my white shiiirrrtt." (Dear god lady put the smock back on!)
"They look like we are in a bowling league!" (Okay I agreed with her here)
"What's next? No shorts?!" (If I were in charge, that would be my rule so as not to see everyone's crazily pasty legs)
Tammy complained because 'she had rights, damn it!' and because she was avoiding work.
Donna, however, complained to fill the silence.
Big no-no. After 8 hours, me-practically a Quaker- almost decked her. She was someone's grandma and I seriously could have knocked her out.
Perhaps it is the hot environment, or perhaps it is the fact that my uncle is the plant manager and maybe even helped iniate the smocks, but complaining today was not my cup of tea.
Which is why I'm complaining about it.
Really, though, why do we complain? It certainly won't change things. My blogging about it will not make Tammy or Donna appreciate their jobs and love living.
Oh yah- because it's fun.
Hoorah for complaining/ ew I hate complainers.
PS. I have a conscience and I cannot let this go-I lied, I'm not practically a Quaker. Whew, relief.
posted by Diane at 3:00 PM
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