I’ve been working at that cake factory for nearly two weeks now and so far everything seems to be working out reasonably well. I spent all but one day working with the Line 6 team in Zone One, which makes nothing but chocolate cakes. I would spend more than six hours a day either flipping cakes, aligning cakes for a frosting depositor, putting syrup on cakes and generally trying to space the cakes out to give the girls down the line enough time to frost the sides. All the while the guy at the front of the line kept loading ‘em on like a bat out of hell. Repetitive, but it beats sitting about doing nothing. Pays more than unemployment, too.

They had me working in the Low Risk zone on Friday, making trifle-like puddings. Smaller crew, louder machines, multitasking like a pro. Bastards thought I was Polish for the first three hours, wound up speaking to me in one of those fake, condescending accents. The kind that would piss you off if you were a Polish national or make you laugh at their silliness if you’re not.

The sis has been a right bitch lately. She’ll do something bitchy they try to take the defensive high ground when I confront her about it. Like on Wednesday, when she got me up at six in the morning because she had to “go to work” when she was just going out to see her girlfriend. And, given that I work night shifts, you can imagine that I wasn’t too pleased about her blasting Rhiana’s We Fell In Love In A Hopeless Place on repeat during her half hour long shower. I have half a mind to set my phone’s alarm to go off every fifteen minuets from 4AM-8AM the next time she has work.

My Birthday is on Saturday and, given my job, I likely won’t be having cake this year. I might just buy myself a steak and some strawberry wine. Maybe some strawberries and cream, too.

Yoji~