Foodmare

Last night, I dreamed I was back at a pizza place I worked at a long time ago. The restaurant had two pizza ovens stacked atop each other, with a conveyor running through each. At one end of the oven, a raw pizza would be deposited on the conveyor, and at the other end, a tasty, fully cooked pizza would emerge. One of the more challenging jobs in the place was to scoop each pizza from the conveyor, then slice it into the correct number of individual pieces, then transfer it to a box or platter for serving. As you might imagine, a high volume of orders could make this position quite challenging. However, it was rare that a pizza would fall from the oven, or worse, be sucked back under the conveyor for a second trip around.

In my dream, however, the conveyor was set to run too fast, and uncooked pizzas were virtually flying from the oven. The manager pushed me out of the way and gave me a look that said, "Fine, I’ll do it myself."

This was the same manager that, in real life, sat me down and asked me why I was going to a job that I hated. At the time, I didn’t have an answer, because I could sense that he was trying to manipulate me into saying something, and so we both left the table frustrated. The fact was that I liked having a job, and even though I didn’t like the job, I liked the idea of looking for another even less.

I had a very similar conversation yesterday, so maybe my good old subconscious is telling me that I’m back in the same situation, only with different sets and props.

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