Posted on 02/26/2011 1:38:34 PM PST by Squawk 8888
I’m not the wiener peeler, I’m the wiener peeler’s son, And I’m only peeling wieners, ‘Til the wiener peeler comes.
I apologize to pheasant pluckers’ sons everywhere for stealing their tongue-twister.
But who can resist when my Internet fairy, Irene, drops this job ad on my desk? “Get out your resume,” she purrs.
I pause in processing Moonlight Lady submissions, and take a boo.
“Full-time Wiener Peeler,” says the ad.
Wazzat? I ask. A red-hot stripper?
“No. As in weenie. It’s got you written all over it, ” says Irene, and she flutters off.
Well, I’m getting sick of grinding out daily columns like hamburger. So I read on.
“Opportunity. Excitement. Teamwork. Respect.
“At Maple Leaf Foods we are committed to attracting, rewarding and retaining talented people who are passionate about making a positive impact in their professional and personal lives every day.”
A noble mission. What better way to pursue it than as a bona fide full-time professional wiener peeler. The opening is at Maple Leafs’ hotdog plant in Hamilton.
Imagine the awe when you tell fellow partiers your occupation.
Picture the lineup of schools recruiting for career days.
The teachers may giggle, but the kids will scream for free samples.
You’re on Price Is Right and Drew Carey says, “What d’ya do for a living up in Canada, Mikey?”
I peel wieners, Drew.
“Good for you. Wiener peeler. Hmmm. reminds me, folks, get your pets spayed or neutered.”
Anyway, I check around and find yet another job opening at Maple Leaf. Wiener stuffer. Hit it ...
I’m not the wiener stuffer
I’m the wiener stuffer’s son
I’m only stuffing ...
(Ed. note: Stop that, you hotdogger, or we’ll make you pose for a picture like Gilles Duceppe in the silly hairnet.)
NO! Not that! I’ll do anything, boss.
The photo of Duceppe in a cheese factory was a body blow to the Bloc. He looked like a weenie. Un chien chaud. Un hotdog.
I wonder. How do wiener peelers and stuffers look? All dressed?
I call Linda Smith at Maple Leaf Foods and ask: What company wit came up with those job titles?
“They’re in the union contract,” she says. “They’re really a kind of food-processing operator.”
So machines do the actual stuffing and peeling. Thank God. I can’t imagine sitting there all day, fingers numb, going, “hundred thousand and one weenies, hundred thousand and two weenies, hundred thousand and ...”
The wiener stuffer fills the tubular collagen casings with hot dog sludge. Since you asked, the ooze typically comprises mechanically separated chicken, pork, beef, water, wheat gluten, salt, sodium phosphate, spice, dextrose, corn syrup solids, sodium erythorbate, garlic powder, onion powder, sodium nitrite and smoke.
If you need to ask what mechanically separated chicken is, don’t.
Or go eat a veggie burger.
Once the dogs have been divided and smoked and solidified, the wiener peeler removes the casings.
The stuffer and peeler look like hazmat officials or Apollo astronauts.
They wear blue rubber and plastic head to toe, with hairnet, hardhats and mask. Plus earmuffs. Yes. All those dogs barking.
The hirings, says Smith, are to gear up for summer, when 60% of wieners are sold.
What a great job, eh?
I assume you get to take home any bent, twisted or otherwise defective wieners.
And you’d be in the pantheon of careers with chicken sexer, pet food tester, bounty hunter, odor reader, fortune cookie writer, golf ball diver and newspaper hack.
Plus, you’re wrapped in a soft, warm union. The Brotherhood of Bun Fillers (BBF), or whatever it’s called.
I can picture the negotiations:
“We want a raise, a longer lunch, three weeks holiday, dental coverage and pension improvements.
“But hold the mustard.”
Fortunately, this is happening less frequently, but I've heard of firms that extend such expansive claims over their employees' off-hours activities, including presuming to prohibit their employees from doing any other kind of work for pay, having a second job, running a small business on the side...that kind of thing.
My question for employees of such presumptive organizations has always been twofold:
How would your employer find out, anyway; would fellow employees rat each other out; or does the firm require to see your annual tax filings?
Your employer obviously thinks you're working there primarily, if not exclusively, for their benefit; that your paycheck is a sort of necessary evil they're willing to stomach in order to own you 24/7/365; were you a prostitute before, or is this pimp your first?
Good morning. I’m sorry for my late appearance; I had to go back to bed for an hour and a half. I don’t feel much better, but at least the migraine has somewhat lessened.
Yesterday, I went over to the clubhouse for something, and saw a whole bunch of books, so I picked up two by Rush, one by each of the Bushes, and four about Queen Elizabeth I. I also found “Iberia” by Michener. And there were also two by Tom Clancey. All hardbound.
The office here is working on a “beautification project” which means they have some grant money to blow. They want to stain the old patio fences, and everything is supposed to be off the patio. HAH! I’ll move what I can inside, but I’ve got nowhere else to put the tubs. If Miss Daisy was running, I could put everything in the back end and not have to worry about how I’m going to move it all to storage.
Pithy. But oh-so true. The county employees here can't do anything that the county considers "a conflict of interest." Rather a broad blanket.
This company did that too. They were a British firm, so they had a bit of a different mindset.
That's something, anyway.
I seem to be recovering also. Didn't oversleep very late this morning, and was able to be in the office well in time for the 8 AM teleconference. Oops... they're starting to do something, gotta go.
That pretty much sums it up.
They were big on getting folks to join the union, (SEIU) and when I finally did, I was told that my “grievance was only a complaint” and that “when the COLA came about, I should donate it to charity.”
That was the last month I paid union dues.
Morning! 45F and the sky is dark. A storm is a brewing. Windy so I may lose power today. Have a safe day!!
Just a quick update on my poochie. She seems a bit better!
Good on ya. Never been a union stooge; never will be.
My attitude is this: When I go to work, I work for me; for the interests and priorities that I choose. I agree to be an employee at any given firm only to the extent that the arrangement enables that in an arrangement of substantially equal, mutual benefit to me and to the employer.
In this arrangement, I govern to maintain the balance of interests and benefits. If my employer should improperly mitigate my governance, they would be compelled to modify that situation favorably, or thereupon cease to be my employer.
I know who — and Whose — I am, and those are my non-negotiable terms.
I misread that as “Bunnification process”.
“My gawd man! Ye turned me into a rabbit!”
I think I was in the union a total of six months, but by the time I went to them for help, CFIDS was past the point of no return.
Shortly after I quit the union, I had to also quit work.
Ironically, I’ve lived in right-to-work states most of my working life, and I’ve really never seen the need for unions. They may have been necessary 100 years ago, but today, they are filled with nothing but bullies. I experienced that first hand.
Did the vet say what her problem was? I hope she continues to improve!
The muscles in her back are swollen, thus putting pressure on her spine. If untreated she could be paralyzed he said. He said the meds should work in about 5 days. She will have to take a pill a day for the rest of her life and I give her Glyco chews too. Thank You Face for asking. *hugs*
I’m glad her problem is treatable. He probably gave her a steroid, and though they are slow acting, they work wonders.
Give her a hug for me. And give one to yourself! ;o]
Yes that is exactly what he gave her. I will give her a hug!!! ;0^))
:o])
Afternoon. DP and a couple of hundred other people were laid off from the Place of Employment this afternoon, and the neighbor just came over and told us Sally has a Facebook account. I feel quite negatively about these things.
I’ve spent too much of the day trying to discover if my property is zoned to allow chickens, to no avail.
I’ll have to apply for my Land Patent Grant.
Thanks for all the good advice Bob.
LOL. It would be fun to see how the city would decide to classify them!
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