Escapades of the Phalanges: part 1

For those of you who don’t know, I suffered a work-related injury June 13th, 2008.  Now, what’s the use of something like that if you don’t milk it for all it’s worth?  Behold, I have created a masterpiece of drama about this exciting venture, which I shall present in three parts, in case your attention span is short. WARNING: Due to the graphic nature of the incident, viewer discretion is advised.  In other words, unless you have a cast-iron stomach or a proclivity towards finding medical trauma entertaining, refrain from consuming victuals during the reading of this episode.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s begin!

It was a dark and stormy night…….or not.  In actuality, it was a partly cloudy morning.  A partly cloudy morning that started off bad: Mom and Dad’s shower malfunctioned the night before, so they were waiting on a plumber first thing in the morning.  (Plumbing after 8:00 P.M. or before 8:00 A.M. is not a good start to any day, if you ask me.)

Oh, and did I mention that it was Friday the 13th?  Well, I’m not superstitious, but….after this?  Hmm….

I arrived at work at approximately 8:45 ante meridian.  Had a fairly normal morning, i.e., filled orders, laughed my head off at James Nilsen (he works on Fridays), waited on customers, and ate even MORE mesclun from our frighteningly-productive-in-the-lettuce-department garden.

Then my world crumbled around me. (Or rather, got sliced off.)

At approximately 3:00 P.M., the unthinkable happened: I got cocky!  Who could have ever guessed that such a thing would possible even enter Alex’s mind? (this is where the peanut gallery interjects: who could have guessed? Everybody who’s ever met Alex, that’s who!) (which is where Alex interjects: oh, well, thanks…)

A customer walked up to the deli counter, and politely requested some of Lacey Swiss cheese, please?  How exceedingly innocuous, right?  Ha. Ha.

A bit of background info: on the deli slicer, you place the cheese or meat hunk on a small platform, and then swing a little bar down to hold the cheese or meat firmly in place.  This clamped-in product then comes into contact with a large, circular, high-speed blade, which neatly slices the product.  Normally.  But!  This Lacey Swiss had a thing out for me, a bit of spite and jealousy for my being so much more ravishingly beautiful, I’m sure.  I mean, the blasted cheese has holes in it, for crying out loud!  Of course it’s insecure!

Anywho, the wretched cheese rebelled against me, executing a series of rapid gyrations and shimmies, which rendered it nigh to impossible to  slice, because it would not stay still for the blade after each slice.  So, with my high intelligence, I decided to use my right hand to hold the cheese flat against the platform.  (Stop snickering!)  Of course, now, if the cheese is sliced when it is held flat against the platform and hits the blade, what would happen to the fingers, you reckon?  Bingo!  They go flying, too!

(Later, I asked fellow employee Matt Harris what he does when the cheese misbehaves like this: he said, “I just readjust it after each slice.”  Duh.)

Stay tuned…


Published in: on July 6, 2008 at 9:29 am  Leave a Comment  

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