Lessons Learned At Chicken School
When I was eighteen, I had a part-time job at my local supermarket and everyone I worked with – and indeed anyone I really talked to at work as well, probably including the customers – hated me. Not because I am a generally thoroughly un-like-able person – I hope; I don’t think I am but you can never be sure when you are you, can you? – but because I only worked two hours a day at that point. This meant that by the time I had put my apron on and taken my apron off at the end, as well as had a short break, I only had to work about one hour and forty minutes. No wonder the others all hated me: they were all working a minimum of six or seven hours, busting themselves while I was going to work happy. Well, happy-ish…I was working on the chicken counter and unless you really loved handling chicken inners, it really isn’t much fun.
Anyway, enough about the insides of chickens. I’m sure you already have a horrible vision in your head, and if you don’t then you do now.
That’s it, I’m done talking about that now.
So, I sort of remember those days fondly. This was before technology really invaded the workplace, and everything was touch-screen and digital. Back then, if you wanted something fixed you had to do it yourself.
What that time taught me, very clearly, was that manual handling courses and learning practical skills really stands you in good stead later on in life; it’s easy. Once you know a few basic premises you can solve most things. And that’s where I feel sorry for the youth of today. They have all these gadgets and are wired-up to their phones, and they probably have no idea how to fix even a simple mechanical thing. Perhaps this is good, who knows? I’m just glad that when the car breaks down, I don’t have to call a mechanic out to fix a tiny thing.
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