Im not entirely sure why I love Fridays so much. Somehow they are unique, even if you are (sadly, like me,) working the next day.
Theres a kind of frivolity to the day, as if to say hang it, even though we are still working at full tilt. (And believe me we are getting faster, if anything, I THINK)
Ok so halfway thru the morning, I am trying to lose a bit of empty sausage skin, and kind of flick it with the intention of it going back in the box - and hit smacks Dana clean on the arm. Oops. Within five minutes of this particular incident, Dana tries to lose a bit of excess sausage filling by flicking it into the box. It stayed on her fingers, and it decided to miss the box entirely, and end up behind us on the wall. This big Glob of porky-goo. We both looked behind us at this glob, and I quipped "Modern Art", and left it at that. Poor Dana however, did make an effort for the cleaners sake and scrape it off. I left my "other" job today, amid much fanfare, toasting, bottles of wine, gifts of socks, and an enormous bouquet which is currently covering most of the dining table. Very nice, but I never shed a tear, and I dont regret my decision. It was the right thing to do, and I think we make a good team, good workers, very even, I love it.
Friday 19 June 2009
Wednesday 17 June 2009
Catch Up
Im actually now on day no 6 at Sausage factory. MY GOD tomorrow I will have completed a week!!
So here I catch up on a few interesting (to me) snippets.
Dale the underboss went out on Friday nite and got merry, and merrily recounted stories of his mate throwing up in the middle of a local pub. I bet that went down well since this particular establishment is quite well known for its culinary prowess. Yum!
Dana the Polish woman got chatty on Saturday, when everything was more relaxed, and I learnt that shes an absolute hunny. Shes smart, and shes got it all sussed. Shes been here long enough to learn the language, and considering when she started in this country, she couldnt speak a word, I think her intelligence speaks for itself. I have absolute respect for her. Not least of all because she has to deal with total dummies like me, who not only cannot say a bloody word in Polish, but also stand at the end of the conveyor belt waiting for sausage packages to crate up, without turning it on!!!! Heaven help her is all I can say.
Steve the boss is milling about, looking serious and worried as if the orders late, and everyones beavering away packing under his watchful gaze.
Suddenly as Dana goes behind me I get a sharp fingerpoke in the back. She doesnt even break stride, never says a word, never looks my way, until shes right at the door about to leave us, and I see her look back. I am dying to laugh my head off but I dont dare, but I do look up long enough to see her look back, and give a half-supressed wry grin. I know what shes doing, and she does too, we are consolidating friendship, partners in crime (albeit about the least crime you could be guilty of!), and I know my grin, which she responded to, before disappearing, says yes thats what we are and will be.
My final addition to this piece, involves the fact that I use eyes and ears to read the whole situation and pick it up quick despite being profoundly short sighted and partially deaf! Dale the undermanager I heard saying that they had begun to create a real working team over the past week/fortnight, and hearing some stories about those that have gone before and how they came to fail, I can understand why he said that. I am, I must say this, Proud to be part of a team that is beginning to take shape, and working together well. I sincerely hope we go on to be the best team that ever was.
Goodnite.
So here I catch up on a few interesting (to me) snippets.
Dale the underboss went out on Friday nite and got merry, and merrily recounted stories of his mate throwing up in the middle of a local pub. I bet that went down well since this particular establishment is quite well known for its culinary prowess. Yum!
Dana the Polish woman got chatty on Saturday, when everything was more relaxed, and I learnt that shes an absolute hunny. Shes smart, and shes got it all sussed. Shes been here long enough to learn the language, and considering when she started in this country, she couldnt speak a word, I think her intelligence speaks for itself. I have absolute respect for her. Not least of all because she has to deal with total dummies like me, who not only cannot say a bloody word in Polish, but also stand at the end of the conveyor belt waiting for sausage packages to crate up, without turning it on!!!! Heaven help her is all I can say.
Steve the boss is milling about, looking serious and worried as if the orders late, and everyones beavering away packing under his watchful gaze.
Suddenly as Dana goes behind me I get a sharp fingerpoke in the back. She doesnt even break stride, never says a word, never looks my way, until shes right at the door about to leave us, and I see her look back. I am dying to laugh my head off but I dont dare, but I do look up long enough to see her look back, and give a half-supressed wry grin. I know what shes doing, and she does too, we are consolidating friendship, partners in crime (albeit about the least crime you could be guilty of!), and I know my grin, which she responded to, before disappearing, says yes thats what we are and will be.
My final addition to this piece, involves the fact that I use eyes and ears to read the whole situation and pick it up quick despite being profoundly short sighted and partially deaf! Dale the undermanager I heard saying that they had begun to create a real working team over the past week/fortnight, and hearing some stories about those that have gone before and how they came to fail, I can understand why he said that. I am, I must say this, Proud to be part of a team that is beginning to take shape, and working together well. I sincerely hope we go on to be the best team that ever was.
Goodnite.
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.
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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