Jul. 8th, 2008

masterofmidgets: (Blue Beetle)
So cleaning a commercial popcorn popper is both horribly involved and really rather terrifying, it turns out. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing that should be frightening, I know.

But for those of you who have never had to do so? Imagine scrubbing the outside of a kettle while it is still hot enough to cause popcorn kernels to explode. And it's in a glass box, so you have zero manuverability to clean the back of it without getting sensitive body parts alarmingly close to very hot metal. And you have no gloves of any sort. And the kettle is full of boiling water and oil that, if you move wrong and jog the kettle arm, will be dumped on your head! Doesn't that sound like fun!

And then dick manager was a dick and made us stay ages after we were supposed to be done to clean things that had already been cleaned and were spotless. I do not like being kept 45 minutes after the end of my shift when my shift already ends after fucking midnight. *HATES*

I feel kind of lame that the only thing I have to say lately is bitching about my job and how much I hate it, because, well, money to pay for tution=kind of really necessary, and I know the job isn't /that/ bad and could be a lot worse, for the amount of job skills I have right now. But still, I hate my job. I really really hate my job. Especially right now, when my feet are hurting bad enough that for the first ten minutes after I laid down I was making small pathetic whimpering noises.

On the positive side, so I don't feel like a complete ungrateful bitch: I have nothing in common with and nothing to talk about with the people I work with, but most of them are nice enough at least. My manager (the floor manager, not dick manager who is a dick) seems to think I'm doing a good job so far.  Most of the customers are friendly. I've got a lot of compliments/comments on my name, several of them from customers. Two people asked about my pentacle necklace today and were cool when I told them I wore it because I'm a pagan.

And the other day, a woman got her popcorn and then asked if we had any yeast, which was just plain surreal.

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