Can I Be Frank?: Furniture Follies

This week’s entry is another filing under C.I.B.F.’s Unemployment Chronicles.  As my loyal and extensive fan base (49 and counting) knows, I have been out of the full time work world for some time now.  I have performed literally (and by ‘literally’, I mean ‘seemingly’) dozens of part time jobs to make ends meet and help the cause at home. 

To rattle off just a few…..

• Funeral Service Dress Man
• Bartender (OK, Bar Back….OK, take it easy, Bus Boy)
• Website Designer
• Customer Service Consultant
• Blogger (of course, the great people at Patch are still unwilling to show me the money despite the tens, dare I suggest dozens, of readers I have drawn to their site)

However, in the past few weeks I have taken on a challenge that is quite foreign to me. 

Enter “Furniture Frank”.

A friend of mine owns a very respectable office furniture business.  Months ago, he asked me to come on board as a part time Public Relations Consultant to help grow and expand his business and brand.  While this has been a fun and energizing project, things have slowed a bit so he asked if I might “extend my duties”.  Specifically, would I be willing to take on a much needed manual labor role for the time being?

Of course!  After all, these hands can do more that type poetic, entertaining prose!

“So, what do I need to do,” I enthusiastically inquired?

The answer, in a nutshell, was support the warehouse team.

No problemo, I thought. 

I can handle this request.  In fact, this is a perfect opportunity to take a little mental health break put from the stress of finding a new career and staring at a computer screen for hours on end.

Break a sweat. 

Get a little dirty.

Earn an honest day’s wage.

Sign me up.

But once the blue collar bravado cleared away from my brain, it dawned on me that regardless of the simplicity of any manual labor task, I am completely inept.  No, really, I am.  Case and point, recall this blog, http://frank-canibefrank.blogspot.com/2011/01/iceman-cometh.html

Nonetheless, I needed to do this.  With that said, after a couple weeks into this new gig, I had a day where I honestly thought some cruel joke was being played on me.

(Insert 24 Jack Bauer ticking clock noise)

 MONDAY

8:30AM (actually 8:39AM…I was running late on a dreary Monday)

Enter warehouse, see my supervisor and ask for my daily duties.

8:42AM

Receive condescending look of doubt and then told to stack cardboard boxes to start.  Awesome. After receiving the remainder of my work schedule for the day, I am also told my co-workers were headed to the other building; thereby leaving me to manage my other responsibilities all alone.

8:48AM

Finish stacking those damn cardboard and commence my next task; inspecting and organizing pallets of desks.  Under normal circumstances I would have gladly jumped on this project, but I suddenly realized I had done this job…last week.  Guess I did it wrong.  Ah well…move on.

9:30AM

The crew returns with a new urgent requirement for me.  I needed to retrieve 18 “peds” (I don’t know what the hell a “ped” is, but it looked a lot like a drawer to me).  Here is the where the funny stuff begins.

9:42AM
I attempt to move the first of those 18 ‘peds’ and quickly learn that these DRAWERS weigh exactly 6,000 lbs; each!  How on earth was I supposed to move these things by myself?  I realize most of you probably envision me as some muscular, chiseled, mythological God of a man but, believe or not, I am just your typical sized (but REALLY handsome) guy. This was not going to be easy, but I gotta make it happen.

9:43AM

1, 2, 3 LIFT!  Result?  One dropped (and now irreprably damaged) piece of furniture.  One giant rip up the backside of my pants.  See Exhibit A above for proof.

9:44AM

Take photo of previously referenced tear in trousers.

9:45AM

Private chuckle and internal questioning of my life’s purpose.

10:45AM

Complete the movement of 18 bedrock drawers.  Narrowly avoid heart attack.

10:50AM

Large forklift-looking machine needs to me moved.  Hmmm.  Well, how hard can it be…right?  Jump on.  Start ‘er up and I am off….right into a pole.  Back up….right into a cluster of desks.  Forward again….into the pallet rack nearly toppling 100 chairs on top me.  No…I am not kidding.

10:52AM

Get the hell off forklift and plot excuse for why it is parked under a conference table.

11:06AM

Is it lunch yet?  COME ON!

11:41AM

Awake from quickie nap on a surprisingly comfortable cubicle.

11:42AM -12:00PM

Pretend to clean, sort, organize…just to get to lunch hour.

12:00PM

Whew…I am tired and hungry.  Need to re-group before the afternoon.  Slide home for a sandwich and some mid-day cartoons...er... news.

12:59PM

Text boss with ridiculously unbelievable excuse as to why I will be late getting back from lunch.

1:32PM

I’M BACK!!!!

1:43PM

Next task on agenda…stretch wrap some pallets of desks.  For those of you that have not had the distinct pleasure of stretch wrapping a pallet, allow me to relay the experience.  Grab some saran wrap from the kitchen.  Bring it out to the driveway.  Start wrapping up your neighbor's Prius by running around in circles until it is completely covered and you are completely dizzy.  Oh yeah, that’s really how it works.  But I had 11 Prius to wrap up…not just one.

2:13PM

Dazed and confused I completed stretch wrapping.  Threw up a little in my mouth.  Yep, just a little, but just enough to make my mouth taste like a grassy knoll for the remaining 3 HOURS of the work day.

2:14PM

Stop caring.

3:00PM

Snapped out of it.  Got back to work.

3:02PM

Jam my finger inside of a tractor trailer loading these damn desks!

3:09PM

Finish crying.  Stop caring.

3:19PM

Bosses are back.  Praying they need to send me home because it is raining.  No such luck.

3:21PM

Informed we need to unload a trailer full of – what looked to me – moon rocks!

4:01PM

Finish the removal of the nine planets of the solar system from the truckload of doom.

4:17PM

Get caught hiding in bathroom.  I am so tired.  Can’t I just go home?

4:30PM

Almost quitting time!  Oh no…no….more unloading of brick-filled filing cabinets.

4:31PM

Stop caring…again.

5:00PM

YES!  Day is over.  Offer a gratuitous and totally disingenuous goodbye to my fellow furniture foremen and run out the door.

5:01PM

Ponder my day.  Sore back.  Breath of death.  Missing finger.  Bottom-less pants.  Bruised ego.  Please, God, can you please make tomorrow not come?

So, I am begging you corporate America…hire me.  Hire me before I am fired or lose my life under the weight of a falling desk.

Thanks a million!

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