The Impotent Satyr
"We've essentially eliminated 90% of all water breaks by limiting our wage slaves' movement," says manager of the Evergreen State College Marketplace Bea Goings. "The typical thirsty worker usually wastes an ungodly amount of time by safely hurrying around the corner to the water station, drinking as fast as possible to quench the thirst brought on by continuously talking with customers, briskly hustling back to their work station, washing their hands for the 18th time that day (talk about dry skin; ew, gross), and then struggling to pull Nitrile gloves over those now damp hands that will most likely rip through the glove in the process."
The Impotent Satyr was able to get a first-hand look at the new ceiling-hanging water tubes and how employees are acclimating to the differences.
"Oh, it's fantastic," said Ryin, a standard union employee who bosses his coworkers around as if he were their supervisor. "I now have all this extra time to get some real work done," he told us as he exited the building for his third twenty-minute break, leaving a newly hired, lone employee to man the burrito station. "We're doing the responsible thing and saving the company a ton of money," he told us through his car's rolled-up window as he smoked his second marijuana joint.
"I've been pretty critical of this company in the past, but this is a smart move on their part," the Marketplace's pizza-toucher and battle rapper Coltin MacGee divested. "Less waste, more haste, same paste—marinara, that is."
But not every Aramark food station on Evergreen's campus is adapting well to the change. We walked into Einstein Brother's Bagels on a less-busy Saturday and asked line-worker Torvis Grayland what he thought of the large, plastic water tube dangling above his head. From his pocket he withdrew a lighter, flicked it on directly below an outstretched index finger, and let the glove and the finger burn while he stared at us with a vengeful frown across his face. "I'm not a fucking hamster," he said, although his words were muddied by the splashing sounds of his freshman coworker happily slurping up water right behind him.
The coworker ceased their noisy tongue lapping and spoke up. "You know, Torvis, if you actually tried the new corporate addition instead of instinctively rejecting its very existence because it alters your routine, you might find that you enjoy its somewhat messy application of cool water on your overheated, sweaty face."
Torvis crossed his arms and scowled. "Said the sheep—er, hamster."
By the time our interviews wrapped up, workers in the Greenery cafeteria had already attempted to replace their tubes' watery contents with 20 gallons of piping hot mocha latte and had broken it in the process.