Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

I usually don’t blog about what goes on at work. But I am making an exception because Thursday was bone crushing draining day. And I know you all will thoroughly enjoy this.

Because it involves me and totes of milk, so hold on tight.

The day started out decently, but I should have known when truck was forty minutes late that a disaster was looming in the horizon.

Then my truck partner told me there were one hundred and two totes of milk.

Yes, 102. I didn’t stutter.

Let me explain the process of how we get all this milk into the cooler. First, all the milk remaining in the cooler is pulled forward so all the new milk comes in it can be put behind the old milk. The truck driver sends the milk down off the truck and my truck partner stacks it five totes high. This is where I come in.

I am supposed to use a dolly to move the totes to the cooler.

Now, this would be fine and dandy if I was a six foot man who weighted at least a hundred and fifty pounds. But I am not.

I am five foot six woman who weighs roughly a hundred and twenty five pounds, give or take some inches or pounds.

Oh yeah, each tote has four gallons of milk in it.

That’s four hundred and eight gallons of milk.

Yes, 408. I didn’t stutter. That’s twenty gallons per trip.

It is the quite a work out.

The picture I create while moving these totes is comical. Because the totes obviously weigh several times my weight, I have to rock the totes to get the dolly under them. Then I have do this awkward jumping while rocking the totes again to get the dolly to lean back on its wheels. This process usual consists of me getting my fingers pinched, but I am none the worse for wear.

Once I have the dolly leaned on its wheels I have to maneuver it into the cooler. So away I go weaving back and forth, trying to hold up under the load praying I don’t run into a customer.

Well I should have been looking out for the cooler shelving instead of customers.

As I staggered into the cooler with my third load of milk I catch the edge of a tote on bottom of the energy drink shelving.

In slow the motion I watch as twenty gallons of milk topple.

I was in even slower motion as a lake of 1% Nature’s Touch milk is made in the cooler.

There are still eighty seven totes left.

Groan. This is not what I meant when I wrote Embracing My Clumsiness.

But am I surprised this unfortunate event happened to me?

NO?

I actually expected it. I mean come on? You should have known, me trying to haul even two totes of milk could be dangerous.

That’s why I can’t cry over spilled milk.

Happy New Year’s!