And When The Name Tag Went Through-

So, in the spirit of a lazy as shit college student, I will do the least amount of work possible, and just explain (in great detail) what happened to me Sunday night...

It all started when Jacob showed up at work. I worked from 12:30 to 8:30... He probably showed up at about 4 or so... (That's a really non-factual estimate. This isn't the first time Jake has shown up at work to keep me busy, but this was certainly the earliest time he'd ever shown up. So he and I talked whenever it was convenient for me (he also followed me around for a bit, so he knows how silly the lock-out situation really is). But anywho, the night was rolling along like any other Sunday... Which basically means, by the 5th or 6th hour, I was going crazy and wanted to go home. But, nonetheless, I pushed through it all and persevered. Jake and I talked about all sorts of random stuff while I kept telling him to censor his language because he can't swear at my job (at least, not by members...). That's one of the many reasons why Jake kept reminding me: "I could never do your job", to which I would remind him- $7.50 an hour, and about an average 20 hours a week... I like money, and this works out well for me. He can kiss my ass... So anyways, everything was going fine up until about 7-ish. That's when this little boy came out into the hall and took a seat. He was quiet at first, but that didn't last long... He then got up and stood next to our sample locker we have in the hallway. He was there for a few seconds putzing around with it. I didn't think much of it because it was already locked... So then he asks me "how do you work this", to which I replied, "You punch in four numbers..." blah, blah, blah, ect. ect. After giving this same spiel about fifteen hundred times, I don't feel like typing it now. So anyways, then he asks why it's locked. I tell him. And he asks if I can open it. I say no, but my manager can. He asks why. I tell him. Then he asks if I can open it... So this conversation went around and around for a good five minutes or so before Jake decided to chime in with a "I could never do your job", and a "at my job, we can say whatever we want", to which I replied "At least I've got a name tag!" and subsequently threw my name tag at him (See picture).

(Aforementioned Name Tag)

So I turn back around as the kid continues to ask his questions... After about five more of his terrible questions (who ever said there's no such thing as a bad question clearly hasn't worked with the general public) Jake says my name. So I turn around and see that Jacob is trying to toss me my name tag back. No throwing it with any sort of force, just a nice toss... So I catch it... And then realize that somehow the pin had come undone in the air and stabbed into my thumb! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?! So I yank it out Steve Irwin style and apply pressure on it with my other hand. My expression was a mixture of pain, amazement, and humor. I was dancing around for a second or two before I finally lifted up my hand to show him my now bleeding puncture wound. I then ran into the nearby kitchen (Don't ask) to wash it. For such small holes, the blood was flowing like STDs out of a prostitute! I let my hand just sit under the water, still laughing mind you. How the Hell did that even happen?!?!? And then, the little kid starts getting curious, so he rushes over "What happened?!?!", luckily, Jake intercepted him and told him to stay away. And I was still laughing. God, how could this happen??? So then, the little boy, did just one more thing to make the story even better. He picks up my name tag and says, "hey, there's still blood on this!". You don't touch that!!! I screamed for him to put it down. It was a bloody name tag for God sake! So I finally turned the water off. The blood was still coming out (not as bad though), so I grabbed a towel and wrapped my hand in it. Coincidentally, my manager just happened to be walking by at that moment, so I looked straight into her eyes and said, "I had a little accident". To which she replied with the most dead pan face I've ever seen, "Are you serious?". I said yes and replayed all of the events for her. She told me to stop with my "shenanigans" and said she'd watch my desk as I went to get some band-aids. But... the story's not quite done yet. As I got to the other desk to get me some band-aids, I hear the walkie-talkie. Lock out. So I pick it up fearing the worst... Yep. It was for me. I had to go into the locker room and open up someone's locker. Meanwhile, my hand is wrapped in a towel like a fucking burn victim. I tried to keep it hidden, but it's hard not to notice when someone's hand is wrapped in what used to be a white towel, and is now a blood stained rag. Luck for me, the guy chose to just let it slide, and didn't ask me about it (phew!). Yep... That was my Sunday night. I got stabbed by a vindictive bastard of a name tag. Shit happens (see title).







And for your viewing pleasure, I've thought to add pictures! (note: it's now Thursday, this happened Sunday, so it's a little harder to see now. But, not to worry, I've added a very descriptive diagram along with the original picture)

(Original Picture)

(Visual Guide)