From Arranging Flowers To Pushing Up Daisies

I work in the packing area of a seasonal warehouse that packs and distributes flower bouquets. It’s basically the only industry for miles. Most of the guys I work with are around my age; most of the flower arrangers are either foreign workers or school leavers (freshly graduated from secondary school).

One morning, one of the younger guys comes in angry as anything. A couple of hours later, he’s still fuming. While I’m restocking the foil wrappings at the stations, I ask him what’s going on.

Me: “Hey, you seem pretty upset.”

Guy: “Wouldn’t you be if you nearly got run over?”

Me: “Run over? How?”

Guy: “Some idiot came racing down the road! He could have killed me!”

The warehouse is in the middle of nowhere. Most of the roads are tiny, winding lanes leading to farms and cottages.

Me: “What, in the centre?”

Guy: “No, the main one.”

The main one? Surely, he doesn’t mean the dual carriageway? It’s the only main road for miles. 70 mph limit, no crossings anywhere. (Think of it like a freeway.)

Me: “You crossed the carriageway? You must have a death wish.”

Guy: “Well, how else am I supposed to get here?”

Me: “…The underpass!”

He won’t even talk to me after that. I’m guessing he realises how bad that sounded. I give his boss a heads-up because I don’t want him to get himself killed.

I don’t think any more about it until he doesn’t show up for work the next day. Turns out one of our lorry drivers nearly hit him when he wandered straight into the road, not even looking. Management called his mum, and she made him quit. He is officially the first and only person I’ve ever heard of who decided that flower arranging was too dangerous a job.