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Finding life in a flush tank.
The bottle factory was an effort to escape from myself in search of me. From outside the factory looked like a giant red shipping container, inside it was washed in white fluorescent light. Inside the factory was a whole different world. A perfect hideaway from the world outside.
The first night of my job, I punched in 15 minutes before the start time. The entrance was on the ground floor, right through it was a small room with a wall sized mirrors on it that served as the employees locker room. I found myself a used, sweat soaked, stinky red apron with the companies logo on it and wore it on top of my shirt. I slipped on a cheap pair of latex gloves and put on a surgical mask and covered my head with a blue bouffant cap that they all wore and was mandatory. I was now ready for a bottle surgery. I looked into the mirror at the bottle doctor in me, he looked blanched, sickly pallor and in a dire need of a medical attention. Then I took a peek inside the production area where the other doctors worked. All of their blue heads and red bodies wore a same pale face as mine, it was the fluorescent. Soon the locker room was filled with bottle doctors donning masks, gloves and aprons. They pushed the door open to the production area and invaded it,I followed them and helped them invade. The previous batch of bottle doctors fled the room, leaving their stations and their patients. The room was blasted with cold air. " You take that 15ml line." said a voice from behind. I obliged and sat down on a steel stool in front of a giant steel tray at the end of the conveyor belt. A dull chill crept up my ass through my spine to my head. The room was icy, even in the summer. Soon the machine came into life roaring and hissing, the conveyor began to shit little brown bottles in bunches of 8. I began to pick up the bottles and arrange it on smaller trays, horizontal 20, vertical 13. My sluggish fingers and untrained hands were of no match to the speed by which the conveyor was shitting. Especially the stool and the half stooping posture made it hard on the back and the shoulders. Half an hour into it and pain began to shoot up my spine through my shoulders further slowing me down. Soon the giant steel tray in front of me was flooding with 15ml bottles. "Fuck!" I thought "what was I thinking, trying to find life in a factory run by machines?"
"They gave you the difficult one." said one of the guys. "Go stretch out for a minute, I'll fill it up for you." he said. "Thanks!" I told him. "
"No problem!" he told me "Go to the washroom and open the flush tank, there's a bottle of whiskey, have some." he said.
I stood up and dragged my stiff and aching body to the washroom. opened up the flush tank and had a good drag on whiskey that he had hidden and stretched out for a couple of minutes. By the time I got back he had cleaned up the tray. who would've thought I'd find life concealed in a flush tank of a bottle factory?
© Su_tshant
The first night of my job, I punched in 15 minutes before the start time. The entrance was on the ground floor, right through it was a small room with a wall sized mirrors on it that served as the employees locker room. I found myself a used, sweat soaked, stinky red apron with the companies logo on it and wore it on top of my shirt. I slipped on a cheap pair of latex gloves and put on a surgical mask and covered my head with a blue bouffant cap that they all wore and was mandatory. I was now ready for a bottle surgery. I looked into the mirror at the bottle doctor in me, he looked blanched, sickly pallor and in a dire need of a medical attention. Then I took a peek inside the production area where the other doctors worked. All of their blue heads and red bodies wore a same pale face as mine, it was the fluorescent. Soon the locker room was filled with bottle doctors donning masks, gloves and aprons. They pushed the door open to the production area and invaded it,I followed them and helped them invade. The previous batch of bottle doctors fled the room, leaving their stations and their patients. The room was blasted with cold air. " You take that 15ml line." said a voice from behind. I obliged and sat down on a steel stool in front of a giant steel tray at the end of the conveyor belt. A dull chill crept up my ass through my spine to my head. The room was icy, even in the summer. Soon the machine came into life roaring and hissing, the conveyor began to shit little brown bottles in bunches of 8. I began to pick up the bottles and arrange it on smaller trays, horizontal 20, vertical 13. My sluggish fingers and untrained hands were of no match to the speed by which the conveyor was shitting. Especially the stool and the half stooping posture made it hard on the back and the shoulders. Half an hour into it and pain began to shoot up my spine through my shoulders further slowing me down. Soon the giant steel tray in front of me was flooding with 15ml bottles. "Fuck!" I thought "what was I thinking, trying to find life in a factory run by machines?"
"They gave you the difficult one." said one of the guys. "Go stretch out for a minute, I'll fill it up for you." he said. "Thanks!" I told him. "
"No problem!" he told me "Go to the washroom and open the flush tank, there's a bottle of whiskey, have some." he said.
I stood up and dragged my stiff and aching body to the washroom. opened up the flush tank and had a good drag on whiskey that he had hidden and stretched out for a couple of minutes. By the time I got back he had cleaned up the tray. who would've thought I'd find life concealed in a flush tank of a bottle factory?
© Su_tshant
