The Great Big Toe Incident

People say I talk a lot. There are, believe it or not, people who talk more. I work with one at UPS. Let's call him Tony. I would change the name to protect the innocent, but he's not. This guy talks all night, sometimes loud enough to hear him. About anything. Did you hear that Joe Jonas broke up with his girlfriend? What about the Yankees signing so-and-so to a three year contract? Know what I'm gonna do after work? Go to Dunkin and get coffee! Oftentimes, he just mumbles. About this a-hole or f--- this or that, or retards he's working with. Anyway, Tuesday night, he was mumbling about something, and Dante, the supervisor, moved him further downt the belt line to sort packages. I was working next to Steve, and when Tony moved, Steve said, "That's better." I looked at him and said, "By better, you mean quieter?" He said, "That's exactly what I mean. Tony is a nice guy, but they need to change his medication or something." A few minutes later, as we were working and sorting and pivoting and placing packages gently on the belt, Steve started mumbling something. I said, "No mumbling! It seems like a disease, or something out of a horror flick. People down the line one by one begin mumbling and then they snap." Steve said, "It's in the water or something."

The night went on, and I was keeping some sort of pace, say around 950 packages an hour, and around 3:00 am, it happened. I had turned to place a package gently on the belt behind me and a box fell of the sort table. It was a sharp and lound cry that came from my mouth. People turned to see what happened, and I began hopping. A small box weighing what felt like 70 pounds fell on my left little toe. It was probably only 15 or 20 pounds, but whatever the weight, it HURT! I went and walked it off and went back to work, albeit at a much slower pace, maybe 700 packages an hour, and finished off the night. Mumbling the entire time.

As I was leaving, Carlos saw me limping, and asked if I was alright. I told him what had happened, and he asked me to take off my boot and sock. My toe was big and purple. That, in my estimation is the clinical diagnosis. Big and purple. Good luck with that. He asked if I wanted to go to the hospital, and I said no. I figure that a broken toe (if that's what it was) is like a broken nose. You go to the hospital and they hand you some Kleenex and say "Have a nice day." I don't have time to waste in the hospital. Besides, people die there. Carlos took some notes and I hobbled home.

Wednesday, I worked at Carlton all afternoon, and went straight to UPS afterward. When I changed my shoes before UPS I had a chance to look at my toe again. Yep. Big and purple. Nice color for an Easter Egg. When I got back to UPS last night, I was working slower, and Dante came over to demonstrate how to do my job. He does that occasionally when I'm not up to par. I asked him to remember that my toe still hurt and he sent me upstairs to talk to Carlos. They ended up having me take some online assessments for the rest of the night. I would have much rather been sorting boxes. I kept falling asleep trying to take these tests.

I'm off at Carlton today, so I'll have more of an opportunity to rest my toe, and then we will see what happens tonight.