Gristle

I read something today that reminded me of my days working a 2nd job driving for Dominos. I got to thinking about the chicken wings they offered--and how disgusted I was with the process for saucing them. You know, in the commercials, you see wings being tenderly basted under warm lights by a soft brush soaked in thick, rich barbecue sauce. But the harsh reality is a set of 5-gallon buckets named Mild, Medium and Spicy resting beneath flickering fluorescent lights, next to the broom and grill scraper. I could never say exactly when Mild, Medium and Spicy got washed, but that half inch of wibbled sauce pooling in the bottom told no tales. Just dump the wings in, try not to look at what's in the bottom, shake shake shake, and splot them into a foil lined boxette. I prepared an order of wings for delivery once, and the pangs of shame kept me from being in a position to have to do it again. Yuck. I know that's about the most efficient way to coat the victuals, but it just oozed bad vibes.

[escaped segue goes here]

A couple months ago, I scoured the internet and found a manufacturer to create a bunch of custom demo bags for a project here at work. It's the first time I've speced...specced...specked...specqued...spec'ed--funny, I say that word all the time...hmmm. Anyway, first time I've sp***ed and ordered something like that, and they did a great job and all. But a few weeks into the project, the 'local' sales rep calls me up to introduce herself. Heh. Sorry lady. If Id've known, I would've called you first. Well after the usual salesy jibbitty jabber, she gets down to the substance of which commissions are made and asks who she could talk to here that does such-n-such manufacturing process for our company, because her company does this-n-that that could supplement the such-n-such. Well, here I am, your basic crumbling ravine of cross-trained knowledge, and the buck didn't so much stop here, as it fluttered off in the breeze. I've mentioned my nature before, insomuch as I'm a cog, right? Well after a bunch of umming and ahhing, and stammerring around hoping she would let me off the hook, I caved in and said I'd see if I could find out who is "in the know" about this slippery manufacturing process that we may or may not do, and whether they might or might not need her company's services and get back to her.

Well, I guilted and procrastinated about it for a few days, but then I started to get irritated. Why am I worrying about doing her research for her? I might be a doorway into the company. But take a peek inside, and you'll see it's really just the toolshed, and I should have just been up front with her about it. Marshmallow man.

Fast forward a few more weeks to today, and she calls back. Great. I made the snap decision to just be straight with her, and told her I didn't have a contact for her, and in fact I hadn't even researched it at all, because it just wasn't a priority for me, because among other things I just didn't know where to start. It felt kinda good. She didn't seem too happy about it. She still asked for a name though. Pretty much any name at this point. Man I'm glad I'm not a sales rep. So I gave her the number to the switchboard and wished her the best of luck. Click.

Teats on a boar hog, that's me.

Which reminds me. I accidentally caught sight of hog snouts or something in the meat section at Safeway this weekend. ::gurgle:: That put an untidy end to the whole hunger-shopping syndrome.