the butt-bag

hmmm, so where do i begin? i guess i could start by telling you that thanks to my recent employment status, i have now gained the rights to use the professional jargon that you folks take for granted. you know what i'm talking about...phrases like "i just got off work" and "i'll call you on my lunch break". i still feel funny every time these words leave my mouth. i must say that even though i've only "gone to work" for four days, the pressure and anxiety that followed me while i was trying to fill that void in my life has been lifted from my shoulders. whether i start my shift at 5:30 or 7:00 in the morning, by the time i'm done, most of the day is still waiting to be spent. i feel a new surge of accomplishment when it's only 2 o'clock and i already have eight hours of work under my belt (and i really do have to wear a belt). look at it this way: even if i come home from work and do nothing but lie down and stare at the ceiling before going to bed, i've still had a productive day. amazing.

one of the downsides to my early morning working schedule is that i can no longer spend the mornings partying with my parents. if you are confused by my choice of words, i am referring to the "parties" my family has in the a.m. that involve a ridiculously large pot of coffee, some sort of breakfast food, and the newspaper (you can refer to my previous entry i wrote in july called "let's have a party"). now that i have to report to work, our weekday parties have dwindled from three persons to two. and i think my absence makes a pretty big difference considering that it leaves two people who have already seen one another in the mornings for over twenty-five years-talk about been there, done that. what a self-centered child i am, you might be thinking...but i can prove to you that they have already begun to miss my presence.

exhibit a: saturday morning. you can taste the increased pressure in the room to make this weekend kick-off party a hit. when my mom and i leave the to putter around upstairs, my dad makes the comment that everyone is deserting the party too early.
exhibit b: sunday morning (today). i leave the comfort of my warm and toasty bed to investigate the sounds emanating from the kitchen (my mom is the antithesis of a quiet cook). there i discover that she is baking currant and almond muffins. she asks me not once, but twice whether i will be having a morning party here at the house. i assure her that i will stay her for a bit before heading out. we turn on some country music to entice my dad into coming down from upstairs.

see! they miss me. and i miss our parties too, but i don't miss NOT making money. no sir. and i think that having to wait for the weekend to have our morning ritual will make them that much more special.

so here's a reality bite: i am twenty-two years old and starting my first-ever work week tomorrow morning. that means waking up early five days in a row (gasp) and putting on a spiffy hat, apron, and this:



this is my name-tag. everyone working had to make one of these when they attended their initial orientation, but not everyone still wears theirs (after two months you graduate from laminated to metal i.d. tags). let me tell you that everyday last week at least one person commented on my name-tag. i got everything from "how long did that take you to make?" to "you are unique" to simply "i love your name tag!" apparently no one has ever strayed from the name-tag "status quo" of writing their name on a white backdrop. anyone who knows me would not be surprised that i reversed this tired color scheme. i mean it really pops, doesn't it? edgy but still classy, and no shirt underneath could possibly clash with it. brilliant. these people have no idea who they hired.

another reason why they should just get used to my brilliance: last friday i discovered a resourceful and creative way to sample the various breads the bakery makes. you see, loaves of fresh-out-of-the-oven bread are placed on a large rack to cool and be sliced by an employee. i was that employee on friday, and besides slicing and packaging the bread, i am instructed to throw out the end pieces, or “butts”. i cringed every time i had to throw perfectly good bread in the trash. that’s when i thought to myself, “hey, i’m going to save these butts so that i can sample them all later.” i began salvaging the pieces in a separate bag, the “butt bag”, or “bag of butts” if you prefer (i’m not sure which name conjures up the more pleasant mental image).

when i told my co-worker about it he asked if i was poor. seriously? i call it ingenious resourcefulness. the company’s trash is my treasure. besides, i’m one of those people who consider the ends to be the best part of the loaf, just as i think brownie edges are the best part of the brownie pan and muffin tops are the best part of the muffin.

i am reminded of a seinfeld episode where elaine and her boss start a new bakery that only sells the tops of muffins (top of the muffin to you!). they begin to accumulate a whole lot of muffin bottoms which elaine decides they should donate to a food shelter. to her dismay, the social worker gives her an ear-full about how insensitive and inhumane her “donation” is. needless to say, she refuses to accept the top-less muffins. now, i know that my work donates unused goods at the end of the day, but this excludes the butts of course. if donated, could bread butts meet the same ill fate as muffin bottoms did in the seinfeld episode? could they ever be a profitable product? i say we add the “butt bag” right beside the holiday bread and other packaged items. who’s with me!?