My dead end job

I have to be at work in 4 hours. I work the graveyard shift at a shipping company that shall remain nameless. I'm a training supervisor, meaning that it is my duty to shape the freakish people sent to me by human resources into prize package slingers. Our turnover rate is hovering around 70% right now, which means that 70% of the work I do is completely useless.

One of my recent trainees was a man who had a quite obvious affinity for recreational herbal substances (read: pothead). He came into work late one evening, and when asked why, he informed us that he'd been making home-made french fries and that he couldn't leave the fryer before the timer went off. Knave Pothead, I knight thee: Sir French Fry.

Ding! Fries are done!

French Fry wasn't much of a talker. We are required to record a conversation during each night of training, meaning that we are required to pretend to care about the trainee in question by asking personal questions. I was having a bit of trouble eliciting any personal information (potheads are, by nature, rather paranoid and skittish)...that was, until I saw a rather large oriental carpet come down the package chute, and a moment of genius overtook me.

"Wow...this almost looks like a huge joint", I casually commented as I pulled the rug from the chute.

French Fry's eyes lit up like a fucking 4th of July fireworks display.

"Awww DUDE...I would SO take this on if it were really a giant J, man!" French Fry went from a slumped-over, half-asleep burnout to an animated fast-talker in 6.2 seconds flat. He started going on and on about his how he smokes every night with his Dad, and how his Dad has premium shit growing in the basement; apparently, Dad is a serious grower, and has a bunch of different varieties flourishing and flowering under lamps. French Fry's job is to water the plants. Good job, French Fry.

My log for the evening read:

"Asked Daniel if he had any hobbies. He mentioned that his father is a gardener, and that he enjoys assisting his father with the care and harvest of his crop. He also enjoys making homemade french fries."

I think maybe "I was making homemade french fries" was a euphemism for "I was rolling up a bunch of J's and couldn't leave until the bag was empty". Ya think?

French Fry has actually turned out to be a stellar employee...except for the nights he's late because he had to water the stash. It's a good thing our company doesn't randomly drug test, because we'd lose all of our French Fries...and half the supervisors as well.

Maybe if I give French Fry a night off, he'll share.