it counts

I felt like a Sesame Street special, sitting on the tile floor opening box after box and simply counting the contents. I used no upper-level math, I did nothing particularly skillful. I simply counted.

The mind-numbing process began after eleven PM, the inventory crew having been christened with Mountain Dew just before. The assignments were given, and I smiled sympathetically at the boy whose task it was to spend the next hour and a half in the walk-in freezer, while I got to be warm and comfortable in the dry goods stock room. The time passed quickly enough for those of us in the "Cage". We all joked and talked. Sometimes the laughs would come a minute or so late because the listener's focus had been so intent on not losing count. That was the worst. Was I on 36 or 46? Damn!

Soon even the Dew and the company lost their power to help and the counting just didn't seem as interesting as it had when we started. That's one! One hour! That's two. Two hours...Three. . . I got home at three o'clock in the morning absolutely exhausted. Sleep, however, didn't seem as restful as it might have were I not continuing the inventory in my dreams. A room with imaginary dimensions can be quite full of strange and scary items that need counting.

So why did I do it? I asked myself that question when I almost fell asleep before ten last night while waiting for my shift to start. I knew why I was doing it. Because I had said I would. The money didn't matter, not really, and I didn't need the practice (I'm almost quite certain I have my numbers down). I did it to impress the boss man, to make him see I am cooperative, willing to help and a hard and dedicated worker. I have my eye on his job, after all. It paid off too, when I got the email thanking me profusely for a job well done. I am now in even greater favor with the Powers that Be at work, a good thing when I'm taking the weekend off last minute. So, I'm glad I did it after all, because it counted for something.