I’m in the back office with my manager counting my bank. Busy night, I’m exhausted, actually the first time I’ve sat down for seven hours.
We’re talking, I say, God my wrist is hurting. Why? She says, with a wink. I say, not because of that. It’s actually even more embarrassing. My wrist is actually sprained. She says, how did you do it?
I did it SCOOPING THE DAMN ICE CREAM UPSTAIRS!!!!
I’m thinking she wouldn’t necessarily relate to the cause of this predicament, but she says, yeah! The ice cream is so hard!!
I’m on my break, I’m thinking, yeah, some ice cream would hit the spot. They have this cheap ass ice cream in the kitchen, it’s in this huge tub, and for some reason, it’s always practically empty. Just not quite empty enough to throw it away. There’s SOME ice cream on the bottom of the bucket, and SOME on the side. There’s a scooper there, but it’s literally IMPOSSIBLE to scoop the ice cream out. And you don’t scoop it. You basically SCRAPE it off. And this time, I was determined. I wanted that ice cream by any means necessary. And I think I sprained my wrist halfway thru. But I kept going. I NEEDED that ice cream. By the end, I barely got two scoops out. And my wrist from it all was totally fucked.
My manager says, I think there’s something wrong with the cooler. It’s too cold, the ice cream’s a frozen block.
I ate my ice cream miserably with a limp, sore wrist.
I mean, it still tasted good.