Danger!
Taking out the trash can be difficult. At my work everyday, everybody is responsible for discarding of their own trash. Up until this week, one person would get a big bag and all of us put our smaller bags of trash in the one big bag of trash, and that one big bag of trash was taken to the trash compactor.
It must be unfair that one person has to take out all the trash in one big bag. Starting this week, now everyone has to take their own small bag of trash to the compactor. However, Before we can put trash in the compactor, we had to undergo a compactor training class. Before I took the class, I surmised that the class would consist of the following three rules:
1) If living is important to you*, don't get in the trash compactor.
2) Before starting the trash compactor, verify there aren't any persons who ignored rule 1.
3) Press the compactors start button to start the compactor. There is also a stop button.
*This rule does not apply to Chuck Norris.
Unfortunately, a year or two ago, at the Dell manufacturing plant in Lebanon, one person ignored step 1 while someone else ignored step 2. So, I can see why they would have to train us on this. I am now Trash Compactor certified. Should I scan the badge and put it here? Better yet, should I put the certification on my resume?
By an amazing scheduling coincidence, I had to take a second safety training class on the same day, this one in chemical safety is mandated by Tennessee's OSHA. We don't actually handle hazardous chemicals, but if we did, we'd know how to avoid them. Part of the class was to make us aware of what the NFPA diagrams mean, such as this one:
After this training, it was most appropriate that some of my co-workers were experimenting with Jelly Belly's new line of Bertie Bott's Jelly Beans, which I would think is more appropriate for hazing than to give to friends, But there were willing participants. Flavors included Bacon, Sausage, Black Pepper, Sardine, Dirt, earthworm, soap, earwax, and the most avoided flavor of all in the box: Rotten egg.
<-- Rotten Egg.
So, literally, the last one out was a rotten egg.
I can't end this blog with such a bad pun. So, I will end it with two. Last weekend as my wife and I were driving backroads, we drove past a barn where most of it, about 3/4 of it had collapsed leaving one fourth of the barn standing. I told my wife that they raise quarter horses in there.
It must be unfair that one person has to take out all the trash in one big bag. Starting this week, now everyone has to take their own small bag of trash to the compactor. However, Before we can put trash in the compactor, we had to undergo a compactor training class. Before I took the class, I surmised that the class would consist of the following three rules:
1) If living is important to you*, don't get in the trash compactor.
2) Before starting the trash compactor, verify there aren't any persons who ignored rule 1.
3) Press the compactors start button to start the compactor. There is also a stop button.
*This rule does not apply to Chuck Norris.
Unfortunately, a year or two ago, at the Dell manufacturing plant in Lebanon, one person ignored step 1 while someone else ignored step 2. So, I can see why they would have to train us on this. I am now Trash Compactor certified. Should I scan the badge and put it here? Better yet, should I put the certification on my resume?
By an amazing scheduling coincidence, I had to take a second safety training class on the same day, this one in chemical safety is mandated by Tennessee's OSHA. We don't actually handle hazardous chemicals, but if we did, we'd know how to avoid them. Part of the class was to make us aware of what the NFPA diagrams mean, such as this one:
After this training, it was most appropriate that some of my co-workers were experimenting with Jelly Belly's new line of Bertie Bott's Jelly Beans, which I would think is more appropriate for hazing than to give to friends, But there were willing participants. Flavors included Bacon, Sausage, Black Pepper, Sardine, Dirt, earthworm, soap, earwax, and the most avoided flavor of all in the box: Rotten egg.
<-- Rotten Egg.So, literally, the last one out was a rotten egg.
I can't end this blog with such a bad pun. So, I will end it with two. Last weekend as my wife and I were driving backroads, we drove past a barn where most of it, about 3/4 of it had collapsed leaving one fourth of the barn standing. I told my wife that they raise quarter horses in there.
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posted by BrentKMoore | 10:41 PM
2 Comments:
I really expected an comment on the hazard sign! It just screams Two for One sale No Women allowed!
Ha. That's pretty funny. :)
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