Tripping On Overalls In A Warehouse Full Of Artiste Paints

After I was fired from my phone sex job (yup that’s possible), I found myself working in a warehouse manufacturing artiste paints. A job I was spectacularly bad at.

I wasn’t in a position to be picky, and it was a whole new experience for my curious mind.

How I Found My Way There

At a loose end after my sudden termination, I had to scramble for work to pay that months rent. Luckily my housemate knew someone who managed a biz at that made paints in a warehouse near our house. He spoke to her and she was willing to give my unskilled arse a try.

The interview was a formality. She was a gorgeous woman (this is always relevant) and we hit it off immediately. She gave me the job on the spot and I was excited that the next day I could rock up to work in my paint covered overalls. The ones I used to repurpose furniture. This was the most exciting part.

The Warehouse Was a Reminder

The warehouse smelled of paint. Not the house paint type of smell, but the smell of oil paints used to paint masterpieces on canvas. My mother was an artist. She had the equivalent of a double garage at home devoted to her first love pottery. She was also a teacher of art.

We had a wheel, loads of clay and even a gas kiln attached to massive tanks at the back. I used to spend my free hours in this space creating from clay.

She also loved to paint and was talented, she just didn’t quite believe in herself when us kids were at home. I hear she bloomed once we had left.

So walking into the warehouse was a trip down memory lane. Then things got real and I was shown how to attach labels to each tube of paint.

Those Labels Wouldn’t Go On Straight

It seemed easy. My head said it was easy. But attaching those labels to the tubes of paints was tough for a klutz like me. It took me days to get this simple task right. Luckily the boss was super patient with me. She would kindly point out where I had gone wrong and show me again, and again, and again how to attached those pesky labels on straight.

Once I did she moved me onto other areas of work like sorting the colours (there were so many), filling ink bottles – we sold ink as well, and even packing tubes of paints into boxes for shipping.

I Had To Surrender

After six weeks I had to admit this work wasn’t for me. It was a welcome holiday from fast decision making and complex problem solving and I appreciated that opportunity. And having no dress code was kinda nice too. The people I worked with were amazing, and fun to be around. The work was boring and repetitive and they dealt with that by joking around to pass the time.

And they could put those damn labels on straight.

PEACE out