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.”
Yes.
Hah.
Sure seems like it.
I’m off for the night.
Try to get some sleep tonight Cold One.
:-)
Good night!
In the meantime, there’s been a zombie ping list created.
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-chat/2688844/posts
Think I will avoid that one...
But, none of my characters is a zombie.
Although ... one may be a golem.
ColdOne:
You have my most sincere condolences on the loss of your friend. Having lost a couple of dear close canines in the last year, I share and understand your grief on a different level than many.
Be glad you had the time with her that you did. Nothing can ever replace her, she will always have that special place in your heart that seems empty right now, but that is only until you find the joy she left there for you in your memories of time spent together.
Joe, thanks for pinging me.
I'm sorry. I know it is hard.
Those lashes and whiskers almost look alive.
Isn’t that wild? How would you like to have that staring you in the face if you woke suddenly in the morning?
Back from Weight Watchers - no change from two weeks ago. After lunch I’ll take the kids to the library. DP has a lunch meeting today with a former coworker who has a successful independent business now. And his Vice President from the former place of employment (who didn’t have anything to say about the layoffs) called this morning to say, “OMG, it’s a disaster here already!” *snicker*
Things may be looking up for you, then. Good!
I wonder if those whiskers will stay that way when the kitteh is full grown?
With as sick as I’ve been the last week, I’ve lost 15 pounds. Not that I don’t need it, but that’s not the way I like to do it.
Good luck to DP with his networking. As for his former employer: Ohwell. Shoulda thought of that when you started laying people off.
Sorry about your being sick. You’ll be in our prayers as always. James made you a card; it’s going out in today’s mail.
Thanks! I like cards from the byos. *HUGS*
It’s a relapse, I’m sure, but I’m not happy about it. My laundry is stacking up.
I'm finally beginning to feel better. The cough is pretty much gone, much less phlegm production. Stomach still a bit knotted but working on that -- amazing what herbal teas can do.
And I have a 500-page book to read (well, skim) in the next 40 minutes.
800?
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