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I had just finished living with a woman I could only describe as either desperately grouchy or intentionally trying to drive me away.  Either way, I felt well shot of her.  I came out on top of things though, because I had taken a job working the back line at the local Arby’s™, which was about half an hour’s walk from my parents’ house.  I also took another newspaper route.  So, in essence, I was working two jobs for the first time in my life.  I was determined to show that old…

…lady…

…that I could hold a job for more than a month.  I worked extra hard and learned everything I could about how to make Arby’s run from behind the scenes.  I acquired numerous spot burns on my arms from dropping countless baskets of julienned potatoes and potato patties.  I also learned the appropriate way to use a utility knife.  How that came about is a rather strange story.

Our general manager was one of the most awesome people I’ve ever worked for and had a moustache that he likely stole from Tom Selleck (that is, if Tom Selleck ever had an afro).  His managerial philosophy was that, if you weren’t busy, you weren’t paid.  I’ve already said I had a point to make to Mrs. Crabby, so I did my best to be busy all the time and to sign up for stock night whenever I could (extra hours = extra pay).  So, one day when the restaurant was experiencing a lull, so I went into the stock area to cut the tabs off of some of the boxes to make the contents easier to reach. 

Safety tip, kiddoes. When you’re using a utility knife, never cut toward yourselfAlways cut away.  Know how I know? Personal experience.  I was cutting the tabs off a box of coffee packets and the knife blade slipped and buried itself in my forearm.  I remember blinking in shock as I pulled the blade free.  I could see the layer of fat beneath my skin, a sight I had never before seen.  I went into the back of the restaurant, where the rest of the crew were.

“Uh,” I said, blood running around to the back of my arm and dribbling onto the floor, “I think I should go to the hospital.”

Everyone turned around.  Someone gasped.

“Wow,” someone else said, “if I were you, I’d be crying already.”

this is my armFor some reason, at this comment, I immediately burst into tears. 

Anyway, General Manager Selleck called my mother, who came and took me directly to the hospital.  Two stitches and a scar I have to this day.  Needless to say, there was an accident report and the company representative had to interview me and also, because it was standard company procedure, lecture me on the proper use of utility knives and force me to sign a statement saying I wouldn’t sue the company.

So, I didn’t lose my job thanks to this stupid accident, however, when one of the assistant managers got pregnant, I came real close.  I hope I didn’t gross any of you out with this story.

Have you ever stabbed yourself so deeply, you saw the fat beneath your skin?  Did it happen at work or somewhere else?  Don’t worry about grossing me out!  I want details!

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