The alarm woke me from dreams of cheese. Anthropomorphic cheese frolicking and licking my belly. It wasn’t the worst dream I could have, and it’s not unexpected as I reek of cheese all the time. I remember a time when cheese was a luxury, but today’s my 1070th day at the cheese factory and I’d really just rather never see anything fermented ever again. Not even if it frolicked and licked.
But my alarm got me up and I’m dragging myself around the apartment before my day begins in earnest. Today, as I’ve done for the last almost three years, I’ll be going to work at the unnamed cheese factory that employs me. My job hasn’t changed in 1069 days. There a technicians who run machines and scientists who devise formulae, but my job is very simple, re-affix the labels to the sealed and wrapped blocks of mild rubbery cheddar.
I have to re-affix the labels because the machine that is supposed to put them on cannot align them properly. One corner hangs off the edge or, well, that’s usually the problem. So I peel it off and put it on straight. One would think those technicians could fix the machine, but that’s not how our cheese factory is run. It’s my job to make up for the label-affixer’s malfunction and my job it will remain. And the machine will continue its jiddery shuddering work while we all wait for it to fall apart.
Viva life.alarm arabian nights cheese factory dreams machine malfunction mild cheddar work