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I work in a warehouse. You don't need to be a MENSA member to work there. Just don't destroy stuff with a forklift, and you're good.

Dave worked for the Logistics Agency for thirty years. He was an odd duck, but not lacking in character. If you had a question regarding society, music and politics from the 1960's through 70's, Dave had the answer. He had a habit of talking a lot. But the good thing was, when he was done, you felt like you learned something... usually. His free time was filled with taking care of his 90 something year old mom, and hanging out at his favorite dive bar. We all worry that now with his mom gone, he'll just hang out at the bar all day. With an occasional detour to the library, one hopes. He liked the free DVDs.

Dave just retired last month. I miss him. His replacement is a humorless quasi-dullard that makes Dave look like a 10 day Jeopardy! winner. The work is boring, and having an intellectual foil was something that I took for granted. The new guy reminds me of a poorly coded AI that answers questions based on an algorithm. I swear that in the last month, the new guy has had the same boring response to a half dozen unique conversations. The new guy is not "unlikeable". He just seems to have the depth of a piece of paper.

I know what you're thinking. I should go find Dave at his bar, and that'll fix things. It will not. Some things exist in their own ecosystem. Like our relationship. He moved on, as he had to. I truly hope he finds something to keep his mind and spirit busy.
Me? I'm just left with the boxes. And my life is a bit more empty.


Having worked in more than one warehouse, I can relate. The last several years I worked as a purchasing manager of a small electric supply house; fortunately it wasn't always dull. As I was in charge of inventory I was back there a lot, and a lot of times had to show the employees where to find stuff (our system wasn't exactly state of the art). The warehouse supervisors usually weren't much help. I swear they got one at a homeless shelter - in any case he smelled.

I was in charge of annual inventory - which usually drove me nuts. They fed us well though - we'd get bbq, or fried catfish/chicken with all the usual fixings.

The owner had a fixation on "stuff." If it didn't move for several years, count it anyway. We had whole sections of stuff he finally wrote off but still wouldn't get rid of it. I tried several times to sell it, best I could get was 10 cents on the dollar. Not good enough. We did have some "characters" but no one as crazy as the owner.

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