I think I may have been right about production. I took a walk down to get my stuff out of my locker, and the place seemed deserted.
When I came back, someone had finally taken down some of the boxes for me (they stack them miles high with the forklift). Five skids worth, so, about 90 red boxes were now within my reach. That kept me busy right up until 2:00.
Even with an almost two-hour lull, I still got in nearly 11,000 steps.
Although I did get an iced coffee after work, I only drank about a third of it and dumped the rest.
John Town, the warehouse head honcho, started talking to me during my lunch about his upcoming hip surgery. He had never said anything but hello to me before. He’s really nice, I like him.
Everyone has been really nice to me. And it’s not like they’ve had to be; I have no in with management. Everyone.
Well, that’s not entirely true. There are two office girls upstairs I don’t know who are like 12, but I’m not counting them because I don’t want to.
I do have nicknames for them, though: Skinny Girl and Hoochie Pants. Is that mean?
And everyone has been super helpful, too. They have made it really easy for me to do what I need to do safely and efficiently.
And everyone has been 100% respectful. I’m pretty sure I’m the only woman on the warehouse floor. But there’s been no ickyness or inappropriate behavior toward or even near me. It’s just not like that.
And, and, they all seem really happy that I’m there. Evan was very complimentary today about how well I pack the boxes together.
It sounds like small, silly stuff, but to me it matters a lot. I love to please.
And if they like me this much, maybe they really won’t want to let me go.
Hee hee, I’m popular.
It’s about time!