In case you didn't know, I've worked for a moving company this entire summer. Its been... fun? Is that the word? I'm not sure... In fact I'm probably going to just come out and say that fun is a pretty poor description of the job. The job pretty much as bad as the newest season of Scrubs. Until pay day at least. Then its the best job ever! (that I can get)! So anyways, I work everyday for hours on end, looking longingly forward to being back at home and letting my mind rot watching TV for a few hours. This is what keeps me going after long days.
It all happened earlier this summer when D-bone and myself began looking for a job. After weeks of constant rejection, we stumbled upon a moving company called, "Bailey's Moving and Storage" to which I sold my soul by signing my name in blood... (I can't believe I didn't find that suspicious) I agreed to call in every night to see if I was working the next day. That's right, I never knew my schedule until the night before, and even then you don't get off until the job is done, not at a predetermined time. Some days you'll stay til midnight, some days til noon. You just never know... Speaking of which........ Well... working at 745 tomorrow. So like I was saying, you can't plan ahead at all! Which really really bites. Even the occasional excitement of a day off isn't enough to make up for it. My favorite part of the experience is the people I get to work with (yes, that even exceeds the unbelievably large muscles I have acquired). Most all of them have spent time in prison for one thing or another. In fact it surprised me while talking to another worker that he had not been to jail. You know you've worked at Bailey's too long when you've forgotten that most people don't go to jail.
So today I started at 715, and as usual, sat around for a little while before we leaving the warehouse. When we got to the place we were supposed to move, as usual we couldn't guess what time we would get off. It wasn't until around 4 pm we knew we were in trouble. I was trapped in a single room all day (as I often am...) loading stuff onto wheels to push onto the truck. So while I'm working, a guy named Raul walks in and starts talking negetively about the job. He starts saying that we'd be there for another 5 hours. I was ticked! First of all, we'd been there for..evvv..ver. For EEEVVV er, and secondly, I thought all we had left was a bunch of giant glass windows and a couple doors. So I made a bet with him. I bet him that we'd be done around 8 at the latest. He said 920. So I took him up on it. If we got back at 919 or earlier, he would owe me a soda. 920 on I owed him one.
I felt pretty dang confident that he'd owe me a soda, and so did the rest of the crew. Sure enough, we had our job load lessened by the manager of the building letting us get rid of some of the boxes that would have cost us another 2 hours. We kept working, now approaching 545 and all that was left was a bunch of giant glass windows and a couple doors. No problem. We started on the giant glass windows. They sure didn't move very fast though, and they were stinkin heavy.
Finally, we were just about finished around 730 or so. The crew was tired and sick of working. Even more sick of our manager. But that was ok, because we'd knocked out the entire room we were responsible for, and upstairs was done already. All we had left was a bunch of giant glass windows and a couple doors. Then it hit me, what the heck?! How the crap had 3 hours of working pass, and yet we had made NO progress!
I couldn't believe it... we drove home after finally finishing, leaving the job site at 853. I had to watch the clock count up to 919 as we pulled into the warehouse. As we park the car, Raul and I both take a glance at the car clock. 920. I'm serious. Exactly 920. Everyone in the car even knew about the bet, and just gave me endless torment. How'd he do it? Raul had predicted our arrival time, to the exact minute, over 5 hours previous! And now I owe him a soda! Ridiculous!
So I guess I write to much so I'm going to stop there for now. I have plenty of stories for another time. Just though I would wipe out the exposition of my summer now so that I can build upon it later. My overall review of working at Baileys? 2 little moving figurines, out of 5.
It all happened earlier this summer when D-bone and myself began looking for a job. After weeks of constant rejection, we stumbled upon a moving company called, "Bailey's Moving and Storage" to which I sold my soul by signing my name in blood... (I can't believe I didn't find that suspicious) I agreed to call in every night to see if I was working the next day. That's right, I never knew my schedule until the night before, and even then you don't get off until the job is done, not at a predetermined time. Some days you'll stay til midnight, some days til noon. You just never know... Speaking of which........ Well... working at 745 tomorrow. So like I was saying, you can't plan ahead at all! Which really really bites. Even the occasional excitement of a day off isn't enough to make up for it. My favorite part of the experience is the people I get to work with (yes, that even exceeds the unbelievably large muscles I have acquired). Most all of them have spent time in prison for one thing or another. In fact it surprised me while talking to another worker that he had not been to jail. You know you've worked at Bailey's too long when you've forgotten that most people don't go to jail.
So today I started at 715, and as usual, sat around for a little while before we leaving the warehouse. When we got to the place we were supposed to move, as usual we couldn't guess what time we would get off. It wasn't until around 4 pm we knew we were in trouble. I was trapped in a single room all day (as I often am...) loading stuff onto wheels to push onto the truck. So while I'm working, a guy named Raul walks in and starts talking negetively about the job. He starts saying that we'd be there for another 5 hours. I was ticked! First of all, we'd been there for..evvv..ver. For EEEVVV er, and secondly, I thought all we had left was a bunch of giant glass windows and a couple doors. So I made a bet with him. I bet him that we'd be done around 8 at the latest. He said 920. So I took him up on it. If we got back at 919 or earlier, he would owe me a soda. 920 on I owed him one.
I felt pretty dang confident that he'd owe me a soda, and so did the rest of the crew. Sure enough, we had our job load lessened by the manager of the building letting us get rid of some of the boxes that would have cost us another 2 hours. We kept working, now approaching 545 and all that was left was a bunch of giant glass windows and a couple doors. No problem. We started on the giant glass windows. They sure didn't move very fast though, and they were stinkin heavy.
Finally, we were just about finished around 730 or so. The crew was tired and sick of working. Even more sick of our manager. But that was ok, because we'd knocked out the entire room we were responsible for, and upstairs was done already. All we had left was a bunch of giant glass windows and a couple doors. Then it hit me, what the heck?! How the crap had 3 hours of working pass, and yet we had made NO progress!
I couldn't believe it... we drove home after finally finishing, leaving the job site at 853. I had to watch the clock count up to 919 as we pulled into the warehouse. As we park the car, Raul and I both take a glance at the car clock. 920. I'm serious. Exactly 920. Everyone in the car even knew about the bet, and just gave me endless torment. How'd he do it? Raul had predicted our arrival time, to the exact minute, over 5 hours previous! And now I owe him a soda! Ridiculous!
So I guess I write to much so I'm going to stop there for now. I have plenty of stories for another time. Just though I would wipe out the exposition of my summer now so that I can build upon it later. My overall review of working at Baileys? 2 little moving figurines, out of 5.
