Stories from the meat office.

I have an employee that works in the warehouse. His name is simply J. He is mentally retarded and can't read much beyond a third grade level. When I took over managing our office, I inherited his services. Honestly, he tries hard and he does do his best. I move past the fact that he can't count the inventory or keep a loading log straight, even though those are the two significant duties needed to fulfill the position. I keep him around for this reason. J likes to tell stories. J loves to tell the same story of a nude bar in Amarillo called The Jungle.

There is something hilarious about a goofy toothed Oklahoma native telling stories about strippers with chewing tabacco juice oozing from the canyon gaps between his teeth. I just remembered my mother reads this, so I will spare the details of the black stripper named "Cherry" and J. The stories always end with him giggling like a pre-pubescent male reading Penthouse forum letters. My wharehouse manager and I get a big kick out his musings. You just have to be here, which we are all the time.

I got this job because the last manager stole two nightly deposits over the Labor Day weekend and blew it on a crack binge. When I came back to work after the holiday, he hit me up for a $500 loan stating I would get in on the ground floor in a "business opputunity." I considered his application and decided that blowing my money on his crack habit was not a good investment, so I declined. He promptly left the office with his wife and two kids and I haven't seen him since. Such a shame, 10 years waiting on his big chance at management and he blew it in 4 weeks.

The manager before him had a crystal meth addiction. He took from the inventory to sell and had a habit of not accounting for the missing items. If your following along here kids, the moral is drugs make you do stupid shit that is bad for business.

The manager before crackhead and meth-man was just a crook. He was in Jesus band back in Oklahoma City, also the hometown of the previous two mentioned. He got fired after the 7th customer paid by check, manager cashes check, then manager doesn't deliver product. The first time would have been enough for me. I guess there really is some appeal to bass players afterall.

There was one before him but he quit to persue this business solo. I didn't get to know him well even though he hired me. In any case, its on me now.

Just yesterday, one of my new part time salesman stumbled upon a sale. He presented the meat and was paid with a forged check. The police got involved, but nothing will happen. We got screwed and some asshole is eating choice cut Angus steaks for free. I hope he chokes on the T-Bone.

Let me tell you about the run of bad luck incurred by my employees. Just this week we have had two cousins die in car accidents, and a brother die of cancer. One wife recieved a fractured ankle at work, and another simply had the flu. I feel like Vice Principal Ed Rooney in Ferris Bueller...."he's been absent NINE times!"

The true stories are the better than the fake ones, at least that is my experience thus far.