Mr. Safety

This morning I woke up queasy. Happily, that's all I had going. No migraine, just queasy. I had some of my vegetable soup and some apple salad (cut up Jonagold, Granny Smith, and Red Delicious apples). I had to eat frequently today because it kept coming back. Hey, I knew when I signed up for Lithium that I could expect nausea.

It was an odd day. Our ride to work was over an hour late, then we had to pick up someone and take her to work at the mall. She was late coming out of her house and had an abrupt attitude. She probably thought she was nice.

Our driver had to get gas, so I got a bag of chips at the convenience store (I was queasy again). He didn't mind me eating it and I was careful not to spill.

When we got to work, we had 30 minutes before our next pickup. I ran around helping Ron (I can't do anything snacky until my order arrives Monday). I was irate to discover that someone had turned off the switch on the surge protector going to snack 4. I suspect it was Bill.

Bill, aka "Mr. Safety" has nothing better to do than to come by every couple months, demand to inspect our machines and stockroom, and try to tell us how to run out business. He has no authority to do so. We have to speak to his boss frequently to clip his wings, and we've told him any "issues" he's got with our equipment need to go to Ron's supervisor, not us.

So what does he do? He doesn't like the location of one of our soda machines. "It looks bad. All the machines should be up against the wall over there."

He moved it on his own. He told his lackeys to get a pallet jack, unplug the machine, and move it. I mentioned before he has no authority to do so. He probably turned off snack 4 because he's never liked it, either. Excuse me. We moved the machines out of the one room because you didn't like it. We moved the machine out of the cafeteria because he didn't like it. We gave up his precious wall space so the various shifts can each have their own huge refrigerator.

Now this impotent weenie wants to tamper with our machines? My machines? I don't care so much about food, coffee, and sodas. They're Ron's babies. But snacks are mine. Just thinking about it gets me rabid.

So Ron called the guy's boss again. "Your employee is tampering with my machines again." He called his boss. The guy totally violated our contract.

Grrr. Ron says if he doesn't get satisfaction he'll turn me loose on the guy.