The foreman does indeed listen to my words, and sends me off to a new station for the balance of the day. Upon arrivin’ at the scene of my reassignment, however, it occurs to me that perhaps I would have been wiser to keep my big yap in a closed position.
My new job really stinks . . . and I mean to tell you this is meant as literal as possible. All I had to do, see, was stand at the end of a conveyor belt and inspect the end product as it came off the line. Now, when I say “end product,” this is also meant to be interpretated very literal-like. The quicker of you have doubtlessly perceived by now the product to which I am referrin’, but for the benefit of the slower readers and sober editors, I will clarify my allusions.
What I am inspectin’ is rubber Doggie Doodle, which comes in three sizes: Embarrassing, Disgusting, and Unbelievable. This is not, of course, how they are labeled, but rather how I choose to refer to them after a mere few moments’ exposure. Now since, as I have mentioned before, this is a class operation, it is to be expected that our product has to be noticeably different than similar offerin’s on the market. It is unfortunate that as the Final Inspector, I must deal with the finished product, which means before it goes into the boxes, but after the “Realistic, Life-like Aroma that Actually Sticks to Your Hands” is added.
It is also unfortunate that I am unable to locate either the foreman or the two jokers who had advised me for the rest of the afternoon. Of course, I am not permitted the luxury of a prolonged search, as the conveyor belt continues to move whether the inspector is inspectin’ or not, and in no time at all the work begins to pile up. As I am not particularly handy with a shovel, I deem it wisest to continue workin’ and save our discussion for a later, more private time.