Saturday, October 21, 2006

The Butcher of Palmetto.


I am not the kinda person who likes drama. I try to avoid drama in my personal life as much as possible. I go so far as to avoid watching TNT because I dislike drama that much.

That being just said, I think we all say that we dislike drama. So I don't think you should just take the word of people when they say something. Because there are facts in the world we can discover things. And sometimes those facts have a way with not corresponding to our expectations.

The other day I went to work and both my store manger and department were waiting for me. Turns out they "don't have enough work to justify the number in the bakery." But they did have the "numbers" to justify hiring a person at the meat department. So I was offered the choice unemployment/meat department.

"You're not gonna quit are you?" The bakery manger asks. She repeats the question three or four times before I can think about an answer.

"No, I am not going to quit." I finally decide. "I guess I will take the butcher position."

"Great." The store manager declares and then he inquires about my payscale.

"Oh. Well that's fine." It is? I am not sure you heard correctly then.

"You start tomorrow." He informs me.

Nice.

My first day as the Butcher of Palmetto is my last.

Customer: "Can you rinse off the ice off my crabs?"

Me: (but to myself) "Are you fucking serious?"

The first and only lesson you need to know in regards to the etiquette of the butcher's block at your local grocery store.



  1. If you cannot afford to pay for the "ice" that sticks to your crab meat, you cannot afford to buy crab meat. Try frozen ground turkey. It comes in a at around $1.69 a pound. And I would be happy as fuck to rinse it the fuck off for you.

How I stopped working and started loving being a bakery team member.

You would think standing around in a 34 degree cooler with your hands in frozen chicken blood would be the bomb. But it's not all what it's cracked up to be.

First, I would like to remind you that chicken blood is basically fecal matter. By basically, I mean it would be cleaner for me to have the chicken squat over my face and take a shit in my mouth than it would for me to rub my eyes after working with this product.

I only make this point to indicate to you that it is impossible to work in the meat department and not get blood splashed in to your eyes. They should issue you one of those high school chemistry class goggles that only the nerds wore when they toss you your apron.

Second. I don't really have a second. Working with guts and intestines was not what I signed up for. I will not even mention that the meat department requires you to work.

"We are not even in our busy season yet." I was told by one of the very brave meat guys. We really need to have 2 or three times the number of guys working that we have.

The first and only rule you need to learn on how to make sure you frighten the staff on their first day of work.

  1. Tell newly hired staff members "how it's just a matter of time before they get a rash that starts near your fingers and ends at your shoulders." But "not to worry about it, you probably won't die."

Got a Job?

4 comments:

Knows It All said...

What I want to know is, who is going to stand around waiting for the snotty kids to ask for the free cookies? If they had to hunt you down, it seems like there are not enough employees! Sick sick sick on the meat side of the world. Glad you couldn't stomach it. Palmetto sounds like a disgusting place. ;)

romiustexis said...

I love you "knows it all" in that completely non sexual manner befiting out internet friendship.

And the fact that you have a husband you are so clearly in love with and he looks just big enough that a fight could cause me lasting damage to my weak and out of shape body.

I cannot fight for you, I can only make sarcastic rejoinders that are nearly boderline middling blog famous.

Cuddles
Romius T.

Jezebelsriot said...

This was pretty god damned funny. I used to work at the service counter at our local grocery store, that's what they do with halfway decent looking chicks that can think at least on a 3rd grade level. I had to volunteer in the meat department once. I liked the gross blood and guts but couldn't handle the chemical smell. And the rotten meat. So I went back to my rightful station at the front of the store where I could look down my nose at people using their Link card to buy liquor and cigarrettes. Being superior is so good.

You should come work with me. I just sit on my cushy ass all day in the air conditioning and count money to smelly old men that pretend they're not trying to look down my shirt. It's an easy job.

Romius T. said...

We would have so much damn fun at the bank. Eventually i would convince you to rob the place. we'd run off to bermuda and then you'd get the hubby to come out shoot me and take all the money for yerself, wouldn't ya?