My job part 2

I know my last post about my job made it look like it was all down. It isn’t.

It isn’t a big company. I know the owner by name and he knows mine. I know the managers and we can joke back and forth on a regular basis.

We talk sports. Hello, this is New England and so everyone: with the exception of a few lost souls: are Boston Red Sox and New England Patriots fans. We discuss stats, runs, missed plays, homers and injuries.

The owner is wonderful. He has a appreciation dinner every month. One for first shift and one for second. He comes to the dinners and talks with everyone.

I work with all women. It isn’t bad. Every once in awhile there will be a male who join our ranks but for reasons unknown to us they don’t work out. We don’t do anything — well that we know of. We talk. We have very interesting conversations and points of view. I think our ages go from 23 to 45. Many of us have kids and we will talk about said kids. I don’t join in all of these conversations. Because there are a few coworkers I will never tell about Supergirl and her adoption. Just comments that they have made in passing make me bite my tongue in order to keep my job. I like the job and would like to keep it.

Many nights we are in tears because we are laughing so hard. I have learned many new ways on how to spell words like: nausea, vomiting and diarrhea to name a few. Enough different spellings to make me wonder if I remember if I know how to spell them.

We talk music, books, life, movies, television.

We talk about boyfriends, husbands, exes, in-laws, parents, neighbors.

We talk about new shops, restaurants, scrapping supply stores; the local ones, not Michael’s or AC Moore.