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MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(REVELATIONS)
“On the debris of our despair we build our character.” --- Emerson
On June 26th 1998 – Skippy Does It His Way With The Burgers *
Every now and then we do have picnics and snacks at the plant. Usually it is around Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas - sometimes birthdays. After my co-litigants and I put our hat into the legal ring, the managers at the plant started to throw the occasional picnic more often to sooth the Postal sheep at Gateway.
I could never stomach how my coworkers complained incessantly about the two-faced vicious evil supervisors and managers at our plant. (Their words) I could never stomach how they complained when they saw someone victimized. But the most nauseating for me was as soon as the managers rung the feeding bell, I would see my fellow sheep and many of the little Postal piggies stampeded into the break room as eager as any pedophile longing for the recess bell as he is hanging out on the perimeter of grade school playground.
The entire picnic these whining pigs would greedily slop down their culinary thirty pieces of silver; and in between bites of food they'd just loved to bitch. It was between grunts and snorts they would engage with each other a non-stop barrage of disparaging remarks about the various supervisors and managers who had provided them this pig-fest.
Among my fellow Postal Sheep I would be alone in my protest as I boycotted management by refusing to eat the food that they provided. I asked Janus, Neall, Khan, and the other Union Officers why management even bothered to occasionally provide these picnics for us.
Between gulping mouthfuls of food Janus said, “They are given a certain amount of money in their budget to provide us with occasion picnics.”
Khan was shoveling food into his grub hole as fast as he could, without looking up he said, “Yeah the only reason why the dirty evil bastards even have this in their budgets is for window dressing”.
Neall Winkeladuokat - another long term union officer - had his mouth jammed so full he looked like a three hundred pound hamster with his cheek pouches stretched to the limits. He stands up like an Alaskan Brown Bear whenever he is scanning for food. He sees what he wants on a table at the far end of the room, (Which was every damn thing on the table) and he shambles over and dumps another high pile of food on his plate. Neall would normally make three of four trips to the table during the fifth-teen minute break. During lunch he would have time vacuum down even more plates of food. The nights we had picnics he would predictably wander off the floor several times to sneak food out on to the workroom floor.
As Neall made his way back to our table his cheek pouches had emptied, no doubt the food was now beginning digesting in the first of his several stomachs or rumens which every good herd animal has of course. I think Neall, Janus, and Khan swallowed their food without chewing. Invariably as they wolf down the food they'd burp and belch and then their mouths seemed to be full again.” “Regurgitating their cud no doubt,” I thought
Before Neall shoveled in his first mouthful from his second helping he said hoarsely, “The bastards in management think that they can easily keep us calm and buy our obedience”.
Watching my coworkers gorge themselves as I listened to my union officers I thought, “It looks like that’s exactly what management has accomplished.”
“I don’t understand you guys.” “How can all of you eat their food when you hate them so much?”
“Janus got defensive, “We deserve this food, it’s just a small token of what they owe us…especially when you consider the way they treat us.”
“That exactly what I mean,” I said heatedly. “Because they have treated you and the people in your charge so badly how can you accept any gifts from them... especially since by Khan’s own admission they are not doing this for genuine or loving reasons?”
“Khan jumps in angrily, “Don’t be ridicules!” “Not eating their food would not change the way they treat us.”
“The Union is always telling us that we should boycott businesses that treat their employees unfairly,” I argued.
“Also you guys are always telling us that we should not fraternize with management or accept gifts in lieu of humane behavior or shitty working conditions.’
Neall stuttered hoarsely, “We…we…we… might as, as, well get what we ca, ca, ca, can from the bastards.”
“Look, if you have neighbors that has been mistreating your wife and kids would you go?" "If those same people invited you to a picnic, and you knew they are the type of people who would not change their behaviors after the picnic, would you go sup with them,” I queried?
Janus shook his head has his long scraggly Gallagher hair-styled moved wildly as his voice raised to its familiar high pitched whiny level, “That’s different.”
“No it’s not,” I got up from the table my stomach rumbling hungrily, but I was satisfied with speaking my mind.
I noticed that Rain Man (the plant manager), Carlos Lancezia Finocchio, and Cari Leccacazzi Ruffiano - (Lt. Fuzz) came into the break room. Lt. Fuzz was busily stuffing his nose so far up Rain Man’s ass - one would think that they were Siamese twins or perhaps you were likely to think of a mythical centaur. Carlos followed them always happily and anxiously eager to kiss both Rain Man’s and Lt. Fuzz’s flabby rumps.
As they walked though the break room, they acted as if they felt that they were wolves walking among eager supplicants. Satisfied that they had made their presence known - they then made their way outside to the patio where the grill was kept as a few of the mail handlers were busily grilling up the hot dogs and hamburgers.
Skippy was one of the main “Chefs” for the day. I call him Skippy because quite frankly I forget his name. Skippy was a mail handler who stood just shy of six foot and he weighed about a hundred and seventy some pounds. He had an odd narrow sloped shouldered frame and he was heavily muscled. He had short blond hair, blue eyes and for years he was always clean-shaven. He had habit of talking loud, acting goofy and was often reckless; if you had not taken the time to get to know him you could be fooled into thinking that he was not very bright guy.
Rain Man, Lt. Fuzz and Carlos Lancezia Finocchio circled the grill. Lt. Fuzz in his usual smug snide whiny voice sarcastically told Skippy that he better hop to it and make up his hamburger special - just the way he liked it..
Carlos was emboldened by Lt. Fuzz’s heavy handed manner was anxious to please and impress Lt. Fuzz and Rain Man that he also could be a sarcastic ass he said to Skippy, “That’s ditto for me Skippy!”
Rain Man had a smiling smug look on his face and to his credit his tone was polite, “I’ll have my burger the same as theirs,” as he directs his thumb in the direction of Lt. Fuzz and Carlos.
Polite tone or not, no one at the plant liked Rain Man and most people thought he was an ass that was more than just a little bit of a self righteous control freak.
Skippy smiled slyly and affected an exaggerated bow, “Don’t be an asshole Fuzz man… I will make the burgers up special for the three of you.”
The three would be potentates wandered into the main break room smugly, certain that their whims would be obeyed.
I laughed bitterly at the manner with which the three of them had spoken to Skippy.
“You better do as they say,” I sarcastically kidded with Skippy.
Skippy just kept smiling slyly as he picked up a few of the paper condiment containers. “I will fix their burgers special.” “He turns to another mail handler and says, “Take over the grill until I get back.” He leaves the break room little paper cups and all.
I didn’t give much thought to Skippy leaving the room with the cups. I just wandered over to the candy machine and pulled out a few Reese’s cups. After wolfing down the Reese’s cups and guzzling some ice tea, I made a bee-line to the rest room to relieve my bloated bladder. I zipped right to the urinal that was closest to a toilet stall, obeying what my body demanded, almost mindless of the unusual, subtle, yet familiar sounds coming from the toilet stall to my left.
Suddenly I heard Skippy voice which sounded strangely muted, strained and hoarse. “Hold the pickles… hold the lettuce!” Then I could hear his harsh breathing, his belt buckle jingling and the familiar friction sound of flesh on flesh that is heard while one is spanking their monkey. “Special…orders don’t upset us,” he voice choked. More harsh breathing and jingling comes from the stall.
Hearing what he was doing shot a rush of adrenaline through my guts and my overstretched bladder squeezed shut. I wanted to leave, yet another part of me made me stay rooted close to the urinal morbidly fascinated by what I now knew Skippy was doing.
“Have… have, have it your way at Burger Kinggg!” his voice trailed off as he grunted off a load during his forced orgasm.
For a number of seconds I could hear him struggled to settle his ragged breathing.
I heard him mummer, “Just a little more,” as he made the frenetic sounds of spanking his monkey for a second go around. “Hold the pickles… hold the lettuce,” he grunted & whispered almost painfully. “Special orders don’t upset us.”
“Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce.” “Special orders don’t upset us.” “Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce.” “Special orders don’t upset us.”
During his seconds of recovery I managed to complete my business and from there I went to the wash basin to clean up. Once I was finished I fiddled around to see when Skippy would be ready with his “secret sauce”. I couldn’t help it.
“Hold the pickles… hold the lettuce.” he said even louder. “Special orders don’t upset us!”
Skippy’s mantra became louder, faster and harsher with each go around as he closed in again on a second loaded orgasm. It was almost hypnotic. Within two minutes from reaching his first orgasm, he reached his second. “Special…agh, agh, ugh, orders, agh, ugh, don’t, don’t, agh, upset us!” “Agh, agh, ugh, aghhh!”
I marveled at both his endurance and his ability to recover and orgasm again so soon after the first session.
“He must be half Italian,” I thought.
Skippy struggled to resume normal breathing as he hurriedly zipped and belted up. Then I heard him snort inward like one would do when clearing one's sinuses and throat of crusty gummy mucus and snot - then he let out a resounding horking and spitting sound.
“Ahh…that should be enough,” he whispered.
He rushed out of the stall, our eyes locked and he realized that I had very likely over-heard him beating his bishop. Not one to worry about what others thought about him, he said, “Just whipping up my own special blend of hamburger fixings.”
He rushes out of the bathroom laughing like an evil child with his prize condiment cup in his hand.
I held back just a bit because I didn’t want to run out too quickly behind him, I was afraid that would alert people of what he did.
I got to the break room in time to see Skippy take over the lead spot on the grill. Without looking sneaky, he took one of the plastic picnic knives and carefully smeared his evil spread on both sides of all three burger buns. He put on the usual fixings of lettuce, tomatoes with mustard and mayonnaise. As a final touch he took the last of his load and smeared his special blend on the burgers themselves. As a finishing touch he added some potato salad and chips with a pickle on the side of each burger with almost loving devotion.
Next Skippy brought over the burgers to Rain Man, Lt. Fuzz, and Carl. The three of them were sitting at a table by themselves since none of the other supervisors or people from the plant wanted to share their company.
Lt. Fuzz looked at the food place before him & in the snottiest of tones sneered, “its about damn time Skippy.” “I was beginning to think that making a simple burger would be beyond what you could handle.”
I snorted, coughed and choked as I struggled to hold back my laughter. “Careful… careful, I don’t want to give anything away,” I thought.
Care Bear looked as I was painfully struggling to keep it together, “Are you okay?”
I just shook my head in affirmation.
Carlos L. Finocchio ever eager to show Lt. Fuzz that he could also be an asshole. “Yeah, what took you so long?” “I guess you can’t expect a mail handler to do anything right.”
Skippy still looked sly, but the tone of his voice was contrite. “I was just taking the time to prepare your burgers special is all.”
Rain Man said nothing but the look on his face showed his feeling of entitlement from life that only a dull-minded high ranking bureaucrat could have.
Lt. Fuzz’s mouth and nose scrunches up in the way that a person will do when they smell shit but they don’t know from where the odor is coming from. He said, “Okay, we got our burgers now…you can leave.”
Skippy made a slight bow, “As you wish my liege!" He scampers off with an evil gleam in his eyes.
I was sitting across the room with Care Bear. He was busy with his food - not noticing my attentiveness to how the three stooges of Gateway were going to enjoy their food.
Would they suspect?
As if on cue the three of them simultaneously picked up their burgers, opened their jaws as wide as possible, shoved their burgers as far into their mouths that comfort and social convention would allow and then they vigorously chewed on their “special” burgers.
As they chewed on their burgers each of them seemed to slow down and all three got an odd look of concentration on their faces. I was doing everything in my power to keep from having seizures and uncontrolled laughter. From the look on their faces, I thought that they could taste something was ‘funny’ about their burgers. I of course thought that this was very funny. In fact I thought that the situation could not get funnier. I was wrong.
Almost simultaneously the expressions of the three of them went from a look of odd concentration to one of absolute gustatory rapture. Each of them had a grin of pleasure so wide I thought that their faces would threaten to tear open.
Rain Man cries out in his usual high falsetto voice, “That is a damn good burger.” He shoved more of the burger greedily into his mouth.
Lt. Fuzz smiled and said smugly, “Delicious… but don’t forget, I bought the burger meat!”
Carlos just slurped and smacked his lips as he practically inhaled his burger.
The looks on their faces brought back a rush of memory of a porn tape that Elliot Nessie had showed me years prior. In the tape, a pretty porn star was involved in what is called a circle jerk. All about her were six guys spanking the bejesus out of their monkeys - each man doing his best to jam their member into her face - as she was greedily trying her best to give each of them head; for the more clinical of you out there she was trying her best to have oral sex with each of the men. Finally each of the men shot their loads into her mouth and all over her face - literally white-washing her face.
It was gross. Yet as gross as it was, what made it even grosser but funny was the look of pure pleasure and adulation that she had on her face from the ‘gifts’ that she had received.
Seeing the look on Rain Man face and the expressions that Lt. Fuzz and Carlos were displaying - I could not help but see the resemblance that porn star had mirrored so many years prior.
I could no longer contain my laughter. I simply exploded from the hilarity of the situation. I laughed and choked so hard - I nearly passed out. Care Bear and a lot of people in the room were looking at me curiously as they wondered and asked what I had found so funny. I didn’t dare tell them. Nor did I dare tell them that I envied Skippy because it was his special blend that was in the burger & not mine.
The entire night I often fell into helpless bouts of laughter. The next day my ribs, stomach and my face muscles hurt.
Skippy approached me later and when I was able to contain my laughter he suggested that I keep this incident to myself. I promised him that I would never say anything that would get him into trouble.
Since the incident he had transferred to another Postal plant. I heard that he eventually got fired & then died in some sort of accident.
I will miss Skippy.*
* After I wrote this piece a lot of people were horrified, especially a lot of people that I had worked with. At first a few people thought that this story was contrived, until they realized that I was talking about a mail handler. In fact, a lot of the people who read this story thought that all but two of the mail handlers at the plant was suspect. Everyone was in agreement as to who the only two mail handlers were that was incapable of such a heinous act. Three mail handler's names kept coming up the most.
I thought that this was interesting that my fellow workers thought that almost all the mail handlers were capable of fixing.
I became curious as to what percentage of the Clerks, the Carriers, the Maintenance craft, the Union officers. The craft that was considered to have the highest percentage of food spoilers was the Maintenance craft. They are comprised of janitors, mechanics, and electronic technicians Yes, a high percentage of them were considered capable. Not near as much as the mail handlers, but enough. The craft with the next highest percentage was the carriers. The carriers are a lot like the maintenance craft in that after the mail handlers they tend to attract people that enjoy more independence and strength of character then the clerks.
All three of these groups have no more regard for management than the clerks. But as a group the stand up more for each other, much more than the clerks do and therefore they enjoy more personal and collective power. Most of these individuals are more likely to stand up for themselves in confrontations with management as compared to the clerks who employ passive/aggressive half measure strategies when they deal with management. The next group of people considered capable of sullying the food are the mail carriers. The group that has the next lowest percentage are the Union officers. Only one of them was thought to be capable of such an act and the same name kept coming up. The group that had by far the lowest percentage of people that would commit such an act are the clerks.
It is interesting that the clerks would be the least likely soiled the supervisor’s food since the feel the most oppressed, and tend to bitch the most. I am not sure what this means.
A few of us considering the dynamics of these different groups are now questioning the likelihood of one of the Union Officers (Janus) having his burger tainted regularly over the years. Every year he complains the burgers and the chicken that was served to him were just too salty. He felt that Handsome Chuck's father put too much salt on the burgers and chicken on purpose, especially his.
He would try a bite of other people's burgers or pieces of chicken and noticed that his food was always saltier than theirs. I am just wondering if there is a two plus two to put together.
Let's look at the facts. The mail handlers have been in charge of cooking the food for years. This Union officer has been despised by the majority of the mail handlers for years. This Union officer of the clerk union has been complaining of excessively salty burgers for years. Coincidence? Perhaps. Special sauce? Who knows?
What is also interesting, a friend of mine thought that perhaps that I made up this story or at least I exaggerated the story.
What is hilarious is that I believe it was he who unintentionally gave this particular mail handler the idea to do this nasty little deed. My friend Phoenix and I were working the SCF pouch rack. A group of five clerks were working the rack the same night that we had the same night during another barbecue. This barbecue was six months to a year prior to the manufacturing of Skippy doing it his way. This mail handler was standing around listening to us chat while we were getting a dispatch ready. I mentioned that I was surprised that the supervisors were not paranoid about the mail handlers or someone else tainting their food. I mentioned that when I worked in the food industry it was a practice that occurred when customers pissed off the people working at the restaurant.
Everyone laughed and said that it would be funny to see this happen to some of the managers, especially a certain select few. All of a sudden Phoenix starts to run with the idea. He makes mocking gestures as if he is whacking off and he grimaces and says in a guttural voice. "Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce and so on."
This mail handler who ended up doing the dirty deed started to laugh his guts out. He said, "That is funny, I know a few supervisors I'd would do that to if I had the chance. Was it a coincidence that Skippy was the head chef at the following barbecue that management set up? You decide.
I do know that my friend, the only one that had lingering doubts remembered that night of our gross conversation and he remembers the mail handler getting all excited about certain prospects.
Just remember... the law of Karma does exists.
HOMEPAGE
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