HOT DAMN #29 — Workplace Injuries

LIFE’S WONDERS PRAISED IN SUGGESTIVE, ODDBALL, AND NONSENSE WAYS

As a counterpoint to my usual cynical antics, I’ve committed myself to a weekly, year-long discussion of my life’s joys.  But, never one for the more traditional approaches, I intend to keep things a little off side, a tad outlandish, and always one foot outside of polite company.

//WORKPLACE INJURIES//

Okay, here we go.

Maybe this won’t cast me in the best light, but to hell with what others might think.

The truth is this: I kind of like the scars on my hands. I mean, in a strange and somewhat macabre sort of way, I’m almost proud of them.

This little bugger took quite a long time to stop bleeding … but, you know, I’m so badass for it.  Like for realz!

In case you didn’t know, I work at a glass shop. In fact, I’ve worked in a glass shop (whether part time or full time) for nearly fourteen years. Glass, for those somehow unaware, is notoriously sharp. It goes without saying, then, that I’ve had my fair share of cuts. Luckily, though, I’ve needed stitches only once. But don’t let that fool you; needing stitches only once doesn’t mean that all my other cuts have been minor.

Here’s the thing about glass: it doesn’t just slice you, it also shaves you (see accompanying photo).

All things considered, though, my injuries as a glass worker have been completely manageable. While I’ve gone through boxes and boxes of bandages over the years, I’ve never lost time from work because of them.

And, speaking professionally, I consider this to be a praiseworthy feat. I should, too. After all, I’m the Health and Safety Coordinator for the glass company I work for. It’s kinda my job to prevent workplace injuries. So, you know, kudos to me.

Still, I can’t help but feel . . . well, more like a man because of the scars on my hands. I know. That’s kind of a problematic confession to make. That line of thinking does nothing but perpetuate old gender stereotypes of what it means to be masculine: tough, strong, and emotionally distant. Even so, I feel proud of these scars.

Which is to say, I’m a little wonked in the head.

But don’t worry; I’ve never suffered a head injury while at work.

At least I don’t think I have.

Sometimes it’s hard to remember.

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Did you miss last week’s entry on EMERGENCY TOILETS?  Catch up here.

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