Sardines and...Staples

Yesterday I drove place one of the places of my former employment (I think the fact that I have had 11 jobs in the past three years definitely belongs on the blog of the lamities in my life...). Ahh, the good old Quickdown, where I was a "Down Payment Assitant Specialist," or a telemarketer that called loan officers. It was quite possibly my worst job yet. Many of the posts on this blog could come from that job alone.

Anyway, one day I convinced our shift supervisor to let us go play Sardines outside during our break. As I recall, she even consented to let us have a 20 minute break instead of the standard 15 minutes (such are my skills of persuasion).

We all trooped outside, excited to take an active break from sitting in squishy chairs and calling angry loan officers. After a couple of rounds, I was "it." Since we had already used such brilliant places as the parking garage and behind a nearby tree, we were quickly running out of options. I opted to hide in the midst of a thicket of trees that bordered the property. I got in the middle of a bramble bush and hunkered down, waiting to see who would find me first.

The problem was not in the finding, since that only took a couple of minutes, but none of my coworkers would brave the brambles to come back and hide with me. I certainly couldn't understand why! Instead they just stood on the edge of the grass and the wooded area, waiting for everyone to find them (they didn't even pretend to hide! So much for my great spot).

When everyone found me, I attempted to remove myself from the brambles without injuring myself. As I crashed through the fallen branches and prickly bushes, I suddenly ripped my jeans--big time. The rip was about eight inches long, and it was down the middle of my upper thigh. Holding my jeans together, I ran inside and my coworker suggested that I staple my pants together. Yes, staple them.

After several unsuccessful tries and many staple pricks, I finally gave it up and tied my jacket around my leg for the rest of the shift and the bike ride home.

The best part of the ordeal? Working on stapling my pants took several minutes...minutes during which I didn't have to call any loan officers!