On an apple. A fricking APPLE! I bet I could hijack a plane with this fricking apple if I sharpened it properly; maybe they should start checking for apples at the airport now.
Also, my manager thinks my name is Trevor, and that I need training on how to stack fruit. I think he's an anal-retentive asshat, so I don't bother to correct him. Oh, and the other guy (my senior employee, probably by like 48 hours) let me inventory everything in the freezer while he checked for holes in the salad rack, which I'd just done myself. Oh well, I'm a glutton for punishment; it also seems more fitting that I detest this job, seeing as how everyone hates me (for taking the job, that is).
