Before I start, a couple of brief announcements.
First off, there’s a “Vampire Community Accountability” survey at http://www.veritasvosliberabit.com/accountability.html . Go check it out, fill it out, etc.
Secondly, I was interviewed by the Real Vampire News network thingiemabob. On my part, it was nice, though they didn’t edit my answers at all. That’s both good and bad. Good, because they didn’t change my answers. Bad, because I didn’t proofread myself at all (except to make sure Asiatic really was a word), assuming their editors would fix my massive amounts of grammatical errors. C’est la vie. Anyways, go check it out at http://realvampirenews.com/website-spotlight-the-donors-haven/ .
ON TO STORY TIME WITH PIXIE!!!
Today’s story comes from my job, with a dash of Norse and Christian mythos tossed in for flavor.
For those who don’t know, I work in a factory. We make kids drinks, coctail mixes, and what we like to call “Adult Capri Suns”, aka wine cooler slushies in a pouch. I run a line that makes kids drinks. Shockingly, I make more money now than when I made the alcohol based drinks. Who’da thunk it, right?
Well, there’s three kinds of caps used here: screw on (think soda pop bottles); press on (think of the milk caps that you have to peel off the bit around the side); and melt on. I work with the melt on caps. They are both complicated and deceptively easy. Foil cap goes on plastic bottle. Bottle goes under a metal “puck” that’s heated to round about 450 degrees Fareinheit, melting the plastic bottle rim to the foil cap. Tada!
Here’s a puck, all shiny and clean.
Here’s a puck on top of a bottle. The groove on the side of the puck is where it locks into the capper machine.
And this is what a group of them look like all nastified and soaking in restaurant quality grill cleaner. It’s a combo of burnt sugar and plastic residue, which will be explained later in the actual story.
Sunday evenings, I go in an hour early to work. I set up my line, turn on all the machines and the like, and make sure everything is running properly, and that the “juice” is mixed correctly before any of the other employees that work on my line come in, so there’s little downtime. One of the first things I do is change the pucks. Throughout the week they get bits of melted plastic and burnt sugar collected on them, due to bottles that go into the machine wrong, the cap not staying on right between the filler and the capper, what have you. We run between 340-380 bottles per minute. There’s bound to be fucked up bottles eventually. Well, this gunk is a problem. You see, the inside of the puck is shaped to cup the top of the bottle, and apply even heat so the seal seals properly. This stuff, if enough accumulates, can mess with that, and cause partial seals, push the cap off to one side, what have you. Not fun, and makes more work for myself and the others on my line. So, at least once a week (more if the machine is being a royal pain and not wanting to do a damned thing right), we rotate out the pucks to a clean set.
By “we”, I mean “me”.
For some odd reason, the other two shifts at work now insist that they never, ever are to change out the pucks, and that it is solely the perview of graveyard. *insert eyerolls here*
So. Imagine my surprise when I go to get the pucks I scrubbed clean on Friday, and find that the bucket is full of dirty, grimy pucks, plus the clean spare. I immediately called my manager over, and we declared it a miracle, on par with the Virgin Birth. Just like the birth of Jesus, this doesn’t happen. Ever.
Hell, it’s nearly as rare as a near virgin birth, like the story of Osmotar. Don’t know the story? Well, Osmotar was getting married, and when she was planning the reception, she and her mother realized “Oh shit. No one’s invented beer yet!” So, after her mother failed horribly, Osmotar got a weird idea in her head. First, she put a splinter in her girlie place, and gave birth to a squirrel, who brought back, depending on the story teller, hops or pinecones. That didn’t do it, though it did taste better. So she stuck a wood chip in her girlie place, and out popped a bird. That birdie brought back bear spit, cause it was foamy. Ick, but closer. So Osmotar stuck a flower up there, and gave birth to a bee. It flew and brought back honey to add to the pot. That was the final thing needed, and soon the beer was foaming up and over flowing everywhere. And yet, she was still considered a virgin when married, cause she never had a boy part in her girlie part before her honeymoon. Don’t believe me, look it up.
So yeah. I’m still shocked, and all “OMG, daylight and/or evening shift ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING other than sit on their ass all night!”