Author's note: I was recently made aware of the fact that, in using sarcasm to the degree that I do, some find it virtually impossible to distinguish it from one of my more serious demeanors, specially in writing. In light of this, I shall work on being less sarcastic, and more cynical instead.

As some know, I recently started a second job, the night shift at a local factory packing plumbing parts. Sadly, it wasn't a second job for long, as I was brutally fired (my boss calls it "laid off," as if it lessens the pain any) on the basis of a rumor that I had a second job. However, due to various occurences, such as another employee getting laid off, one asking for a day off, and another breaking her nose, I was called back for more a couple times. So I'm told last Saturday was my last day, for the third time.

Anywho, at my new job, I've had plenty to learn: unskilled labor, my bandaged pinky! For the most part, the people have been very friendly and helped me out quite a bit when I have a problem. For instance today, we were understaffed a bit, and the bins where the machines spit parts into were virtually full up and down the row. One of my coworkers came over and said she was switching orders on the fullest bin to one that could be done much faster than the current one. By fullest, I mean the one where parts where spilling out of the top fastest. I really didn't have much of an objection to that, so she went on her merry way and did that. However, afterwards I thought about what was said and figured out that, in fact, the true meaning of our conversation was very different from what was said.

She: I'm going to change orders on that machine so that we can pack it faster.

Real meaning: Im sick of the other machines I've beening working on all night, and want to change to something thats much less tedious.

Me: Okay, sounds fine.

RM: &*%$ you. That's the order I do to make up for being slow on all the machines you've been working on all night.

She: Im gonna go ahead and pack out that bin now, and I'll have you work on the tables [smaller bins] on the row, ...unless you want to pack the bin out.

RM: I pretty much have my mind set on doing the easiest job in the plant right now, but I'll save face by giving you the option to do it. It's 50-50 you'll pick it, and if you do, I can still probably get there before you can since your in the middle of packing a box.

Me: I don't care, you choose.

RM: Since you gave me the option, perhaps packing out the overflowing bin isn't the best job in the plant. And I acknowledge that you'd beat me. I'll just make a mental note of your choice and rememeber it in all similiar future situations.

She: I'll pack out that bin. *big smile*

RM: You're here only another two months.

Me: Alright.

RM: If I do as well in school next year as I did last year, I'll be back.

There have been other occassions at work were what was said differed from the real meaning. For instance, while training, this older, graying, heavyset man with a dour expression on his face approached me.

Dad: How's it going?

RM: I'm not doing my job, and you are. Seniority rocks!

Me: Alright.

RM: I hate this job.

Dad: How do you like it so far?

RM: Ready to quit?

Me: Its rather boring.

RM: I felt my brain turn to mush hours ago. I've saved all my used Kleenexes in hopes of reconstucting the parts of it that escaped my skull when I get home.

Later he came back for some more conversation.

Me: These parts are really hot.

RM: These parts are really, really hot.

Dad: Back when I had this job, I had to pull parts right out of the machine and pack them. I didn't get to cool them in water first. What you have there is nothing.

RM: These calloused hands haven't felt a thing in years.