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My Tree thanks to slodwick

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Don't Call Me Kevie

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My Tree thanks to slodwick
My roster is such that I'm back working weekends, which means that there be no managers around the traps. So, the stereos come out, the volume gets turned up, and we do The Nutbush in the corridoor. If you ever want a quick and intense workout, do that dance in steel cap boots. Trust me on that.

And last weekend I took my camera to work to take some photos of my lab (well, I call it my lab. As 'refinery chick' most of my work is confined to one room, and since no one else uses that room - other than the lady I'm opposite - I call it my lab. It makes me sound special?.) I'll put them up tonight, but they'll be friendslocked, as I'm unsure of the protocol of displaying photos of a working minesite. As much as I hate it, I'd rather not lose my job, thanks all the same.

But, as a teaser, I give you a photo of me.....

Okay, so I cheated. But they are my feet. I've told my bosses all I need to make me happy would be a kick-ass stereo system for the lab, comfortable steel-caps (they have to exist) and different coloured overalls. I mean - look! - that's prison orange! How can you promote happiness at work when it looks like you're doing ten to fifteen (Cue Augustus Hill: "Parole in 7")

The mat I'm standing on is called "fatigue matting" - it's suppposed to do two things. Firstly, it's non-slip so you should not fall over just walking around. Me, I fall over just standing still, but that shouldn't surprise any of you. And secondly, the mat is supposed to help your legs not ache from standing all day. Either way the mat reminds me of those spots your nan puts in her bath to stop her from slipping and breaking her hip, but when you're in the bath they just irriatate your bottom.

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We had rubber mats like that behind the desk when I worked at Lee's Comics. I never found they did anything more than trap dust in a big way.

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