I spent most of the afternoon cleaning up the stock room and unpacking the 25-carton shipment. Because the merchandise is heavy for its size, a lot of packaging material is required. After cursing the excessive quantity of hatefully friable styrofoam sheets surrounding the stuff, I discovered that two large battery packs (of 38) were damaged in shipping anyway. These packs aren’t cheap, so I guess all the styrofoam isn’t excessive after all. I’ll see if the dinged packs are still functional and start a seconds pile. I’ll also add another figure to the costs column in my pricing spreadsheet.
Green virtue and thrift suggest I should re-use packing materials to the greatest extent possible, but that would mean foisting this crumbly stuff on customers, to whom flecks of it will stick in pesky static charge, and around whose floors it will swirl in little mounds, like tribbles. It’s worse than styrofoam peanuts. What should I do?
I worked up a good sweat. It felt like the first day of a new job: warehouse boy. Exciting for its newness, but really dull otherwise. I see this job stretching out far into the future, and only growing in dullness. I much preferred my old mad-scientist job of developing Stokemonkey, though the pay was terrible. My back is killing me from all the lifting and bending, and my boss worries me; he let this shipment stay two days outside while he got lost in email, and then acted like it was my fault for not unpacking it immediately.
I took a quick shower and dashed off alone to the parent orientation for my son’s co-op preschool. (It’s a real blast to ride an unladen monkey-stoked bike someplace in a hurry, at night.) I’m on duty tomorrow there. I’ll try to keep my mind off the products I should be testing and assembling, and the million other company things.
I asked my son the other day where chickens come from. “From baby chickens.” “And where do baby chickens come from?” “From eggs.” This was the first time I’d led him this far into the riddle of origins after many previous attempts, so I asked with special moment: “And where do eggs come from?” “From ducks!” He smiled wildly. I think this is his first joke.