Saturday In the Park

I came into this world with 10 fingers, and that's exactly how I plan on leaving it.

Saturday was meant to be no walk in the park. Ironically, as I walked into the building Chicago's "Saturday In the Park" was playing on the sound system.

However, don't let me overdramatize. I was supposed to work today however the powers that be switched me from my usual designation to work in the deli. Now there's nothing wrong with a deli, if you know anything at all about one. I don't even buy things from a deli so how would I be a good person to work in one? After all they house the big slicers that could inevitably cut each and every one of my fingers off.

As if the timing was no short of perfect I was listing off my reasons of protest about working back there when one of the guys comes over from the meat department with paperwork that had to be signed because he nearly sliced his own finger off the day before. As I see this, I felt like making a mad dash for the international border. I wondered if there was any statute of limitations for shirking one's employment duties. If there was any, I wondered how long it would be before I could return to my native country.

I thought about living life on the run, the idea seemed hardly appealing to me. So I had to face my fears and go to work. Luckily those around sensed my apprehension, giving me the duties of portioning out potato salad, and putting price stickers on merchandize. I dodged the big one. Thankfully.

At the end of my day I took my two hands and ten fingers, all of which still attached to my person, and walked out the door and went home.