June 16, 2004 - 5:58 PM

Warehouse Guy Moment #1

Even though it’s their job, the warehouse guys get annoyed if they have to carry big boxes up to your office on the second floor. I think they feel us gals should be able to carry our own damn boxes up the stairs cuz…um….they are not their boxes…they are our boxes? I don’t know.

Maybe they feel we represent “The Man” who keeps them down.

I have no idea.

But I always get attitude or a smart comment when I ask for their help carrying big boxes up to my office.

Don’t get me wrong…I’ve known these guys for almost five years now and we’re friendly and all….we get along and everything but….it’s just they can be moodier than a chick riding the PMS pony sometimes…

I know it’s fucked up, but I don’t ask them anymore. UNLESS the box is so fucking heavy I can’t lift it. I just don’t want to deal with the shit I get from them.

So…today…there is a big ass box with my name on it at the bottom of the stairs. I look around and no warehouse guys in sight. I nudge the box with my knee and find it’s heavier than usual but fuckit I’ll make an attempt, in my open toed sandals and frilly shirt to carry the fucker up the stairs.

I kick it over to the stairs and stand it upright.

Then I tilt it so it falls over onto the first step.

I bend over to lift it up so it will fall over onto the next higher step.

I figure if I can’t carry it up the stairs, I’ll let it walk up the stairs by continuing in this very retarded manner.

On about my third stair I get a tap on my shoulder and it’s a warehouse guy. He shakes his head at me and says, “Step aside”. He then picks up the box and carries it up the stairs and into my office.

Chivalry is not dead…or something.

Warehouse Guy Moment #2

He shows me the back of his hand.

Specifically the pinky finger on his hand.

Which has an unusually long fingernail on it. The rest of his nails are short.

“Is that your nose picking finger?” I ask.

“No.” he says.

“Is that your coke spoon finger?” I ask.

“No, it’s my pimp hand.”

“Really?!” I say, “I thought the pimp hand was only a myth? Do you smack your bitches with it?”

“When I smack my bitches it leaves a nice little cut right across here…” he says, motioning across his cheek. “You know, if you were one of my bitches, you’d catch the back of my pimp hand.” He tells me quietly.

“Why? Cuz I backtalk?” I say.

“Yeah…most definite…you got some sass in that ass a yours…” He says.

I chuckle and walk away feeling him looking at my sass as I make my way through the warehouse.

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