Bandana, red lipstick, Big Dog tank, yoga pants, and 30 Lbs of sweat. Charming...
With the temperatures reaching record highs, the plant has been like a vortex to a hell dimension. Somewhere along the levels of 7. No air, no reprieve, no help in sight. We have been pounding back watermelon like an asthmatic craves air and have raced for our spray bottles like thirsty men for water. Between hanging hot parts and emptying racks of newly dipped parts hot parts, we were itchy, bitchy, and ready to fall down flat. Domina looked at though she was ready to blow a rather large hole in any wall possible should it bring forth a breeze, and I was ready to just grab ever fan and circle us like salt for protection.
Our new supervisor wasn't in which was a blessing. While he claims to be "A keeper of the rules" he hasn't an ounce of compassion or common sense. From everything that I have seen, he's less about human rights and far more about cutting costs by any means necessary.
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