So Friday night I was closing dishes at work (hence the pruny icky dishpan hand. Along with its partner it had been underwater in detergent and degreaser for about 3 hours already), and had cut my finger on the tomato slicer as I was washing it. I felt really lame as I had made sure to examine the slicer to see where the blades were so I could avoid them when I submerged it, and the first thing I do when I do that? I cut my finger. This is the second injury this week on the same hand, I'm a liability, but I get the job done. I start bleeding, for such a little cut it's leaking pretty well, and pretty quick. First aid kit, no bandages, I'm baffled. "Medical Macguyver" mode kicks in and I fashion a "bandage" out of a gauze compress and salad stickers. "Creep" by Stone Temple Pilots was playing on the radio, and as I returned to the sink Scott Weiland sang "take time with a wounded hand". This experience couldn't have been more perfect.
My manager walks into the back room a couple minutes later, and sees I'm cleaning the tomato slicer, telling me to be careful about cutting myself. I show her my salad bandage, "I beat you to it". She looks puzzled at my finger, then laughs.
The kicker: "You know, we do have real bandages in the office".
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