Wednesday 17 June 2009

Welcome To My New Home

Since I have just started a new job, I thought Id post my ramblings about it on a blog. Hopefully it will turn out to be somewhat amusing, sometimes sad, and sometimes downright boring, a bit like the job!

I am Annmarie, and Ill be happily posting my memoirs of this time in my life on here from now on. Why? why not? Why write on a blog? Because its there. Who will read it? Who cares, Im doing this as my personal memories, although for obvious reasons, the name of the company and the names of all personnel are changed to protect privacy.

Why work in a Sausage Factory? Why not? Need full time occupation, not much around at the moment, and here I jolly well am. Do what you have to do, end of.

So without further ado, an introduction to the place and the players:


The company makes speciality sausages. Not run-of-the-mill full of paper mache or whatever it is they put in sausages as a filler, type sausages, but real ones with actual meat in. So they moved here, and recently, and they are extremely busy.

Top man is Steve, only recently joined, but dead serious about the job, but with a sense of humour, and old-fashioned idealism, and respect for those who respect him. When he is in the area, make sure your head is down and you are working - and if you should talk, make sure you are working twice as fast as you were when you werent!

2nd in charge is Dale, easier going and more laid back as younger, good sense of humour, but dedicated to the job, and the company, I sense a good egg here, Even if his name is the same name as an old time crooner, and I dunno if this guy can actually sing or not!

The Machine Guys - Mark - italian stallion but an all round good bloke, and one of the locals so I know hes okay. Another tall bloke works here who is local but I have yet to discover his name (shame on me!). Then there is Patrick whos got an enormous smile and a lived in jolly face, whos also really nice. Dave is a Nepalese bloke who started the same day as me, sometimes he is with us in packing, and sometimes on the machines. These are the main players in the Mix Room, where the sausage mix is made, and the Sausage Machine area. Im dying to get my hands on this machine In my head, Id be firing the bloody things at every enemy I ever made. Billy Liar eat your heart out - Grenades? pah! Im telling you, it would be like Rambo with his machine gun, only much more messy!

Now next to this room is the generally unoccupied store room, made sausages come in, we take them out, and by hand, mind you, pack them into pretty brown plastic cartons, especially made for 6. This is probably a rather miserable part of the job, but nevertheless, everyone starts off in here. You can get heartily sick of sausages in a very short space of time, and lesser mortals could be forgiven for developing a very passionate hatred for them within oh, say an hour and a half. Its also the home of the Machine That Goes Bang A Lot, which puts a clear plastic film over sausages in their carton. Next to that is a conveyor belt with a metal detector (just in case) down which every neatly packed carton with its plastic film travels before one of us grabs it and packs it into a crate.

The general Packing Crew are: me, heaven help me!, Dana, whos Polish and an absolute darling. She scared the shit outta me when I first met her cos Id accidentally borrowed her boots (was just told to put some on I didnt know!) She can appear severe, but shes really an absolute hunny, and shes got a good sense of humour, and appreciates a chat whilst working, almost as much as she appreciates someone who can learn from all the stuff shes learnt while shes been working there! I consider her to be the best, right now! Then there is Babs, shes black, crazy, and has taken a liking to my pushbike. Within oh 15 seconds of breaktime starting on day one, shes asked me about my pushbike, and said she wants to get one to ride to work. The only problem with this idea, is she cant actually ride a bike. 30 seconds later she is perched terrified and made to learn - which she did extremely fast. Since then she spends every breaktime riding my bike around the property in anticipation of one of her own! I think shes fab, and she broke the ice for me with everyone, by giving an opportunity to show the real me - I dont mind if she rides my bike and Im not actually out there, in fact Ill encourage her. Bikes are a great mode of transport locally.
I think Im talking too much but I so want to get out my first impressions of everyone!
Ok next is beautiful tall Harriet, she is a hungarian and cant speak much English, but shes a good worker, and lets face it, like everyone else shes been there longer than me!
Then comes this lil guy everyone calls by the wrong name. His name is really Joseph (well it isnt but Im not gonna put his REAL name now am I!) Quiet, but nice.
Next comes a pairing: Tracey and Tony, also hungarian, but unlike Harriet can speak more English. Good eggs, is the impression I get. There is an older guy, called Paul, a sweetie with a nice smile. Then there is Fred - he is nuts, and he only works two days a week there, but my god you know when he is around. He has a habit of having a very dry sense of humour, and bursting into loud song. Which would be fine if the songs werent things like Jake The Peg, Happiness, and suchlike! Not to mention his comments about "do you remember that one Ann?" Grrrr!!!

Well beyond the room with the machine that goes bang, is the room where the sealed cartons are labelled and boxed, and finally shipped out. Beryl, another black girl, generally works in there. Quieter than Babs, she still, I think has the typical happy go lucky enormous grin of the typical black lady inside her.

Which finally brings us to the guys who drive the goods away. Terry, the guy with the largest grin this side of the cheshire cat, and Adam larger than life and down to earth, and both have a sense of humour bordering on insanity.

All the rooms are maintained at an entertainingly warm temperature of 8 degrees celsius.

To live 42 hours a week in a fridge, with fingers so cold you could cry, whilst packing stupid sausages which I dont even like, into cartons and shipping them out in mindbogglingly boring boxes, it would take a lot to keep me here for any length of time. BUT the lot in question has turned out to be the lot I work with. There is absolutely no one there I dont like.

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