By now you may know that I spend my days working in a coffee shop. I kinda love it. I really enjoy the people I work with. We are amused with ourselves most of the day. We get our milk delivered from a local farm in 5 gallon metal cans. The kind you see in old timey pictures. Two at a time, these live in a refrigerated case we call the cow. The day crew is made up of women. I’m built like a man. A very lumpy, very short man. The manager on duty is my same height and built like a lady. The third member of our crew is junior key holder. She’s tall but wiry. The point being, none of us are suited for lifting 5 gallons of milk 5 feet in the air. I tried and like the 70 year old man I am, I put my back out. Enter Burnie. He is 6’2″ and burly. A perfect man for the job, always decked out in an ascot and sweater vest. He works with us day crewers on Friday.
On the day in question Burnie was changing the cow. Manager on duty was with a customer. I was doing tech support for what used to be our temperamental internet. I came back around the counter to hear manager on duty say “we need you.” Burnie, stood in front of the open cow giggling, as he does from time to time. It’s not until I get past the open door of the cow that I see what the matter is. There is a small hose that comes out of the metal can and slips through the dispenser of the cow. We call this the wienie. In his brute strength, Burnie has pulled the wienie clean off the can. In order to stop the cartoon like gushing of milk, Burnie has stuck his big old finger in the hole where the wienie goes. Picture the little boy and the dyke, only the little boy is a giant ascot wearing ginger.
I run to the back to get pitchers to drain the can enough to put the weinie, which is in Burnie’s other hand looking flaccid and useless, back on said can. The whole while he giggles. Manager on duty frets. And I am laughing at them both.
Everything was put to rights and Burnie was banned from touching the weinie.
Just another day at the mean cup.