Today I worked eight hours, moving trays of homestyle pecan tarts from one conveyor belt onto another. In the morning I dropped several trays; first from ineptitude, then because of a couple of faulty cardboard inserts that couldn't hold the weight of the trays. Of course, the foreman was passing by just as I dropped them, and he told me that if they took the cost of the tarts out of my pay, I would have to work longer than eight hours just to cover it. Happily, I'm working for temp agency that pays me the same measly sum regardless of how many tarts I drop.
In the afternoon we ran out of cardboard inserts, thus changing the schematics of the job, and I only dropped six pastries. I estimate that I moved between twenty and thirty thousand tarts today, but it wasn't until just as before leaving that I asked one of the ladies the purpose of putting the tarts on a second conveyor belt. The extra process passes the tarts through a metal detector, to guard against foreign bodies in the mix, and lawsuits in the news. I hope I don't now have a radioactive butt from standing in front of the thing all day. So, bon appetite! You can thank me for making the baked goods aisle of your grocer that much more reassuring to frequent.