Ruger

I used to work at Ruger. Everyone knows it as Ruger, but it's actually Sturm, Ruger & Co. I don't know who this "Sturm" guy is, but he's obviously getting the short end of the stick.

I was lucky in that I live less than 10 minutes from there. Although, to be honest, isn't it all relative? I mean, if my car breaks down, suddenly I live a lot more than 10 minutes from there.

They're known of course for their firearms, but they also make golf clubs. No matter what you're buying from Ruger, you're obviously aiming for a hole in one.

You know, even while working there, I had had no clue that they make golf clubs. I think they make them in Arizona, where all the old retired people who have nothing better to do than to play golf are. Genius.

You know what else was smart? They put really uncomfortable seats in the cafeteria. Boy, I tell you what, after a few minutes of sitting on them, being on your feet for a few more hours didn't seem so bad.

They had quite a few vending machines, and they had the most diabolical setup I've ever seen. They had a machine that every once in a while would spit out an extra Mtn Dew. That machine only took ones and coins, the lying piece of shit. So you had to get change from the change machine...that would almost always shortchange you. You had ONE JOB! I swear, that's the kind of problem that you would have to specifically program the machine to do.

I fell victim to the setup, man. I was playin' that Coke Machine...yes, it was a Coke Machine that just happened to serve Pepsi products. That's not part of a joke, that's just an important bit of information so you know that my story doesn't have a continuity error. I was playin' that Coke Machine like it was the slots. Although really, what's the jackpot? Diabetes?

To be fair though, there was a card you could fill out and eventually your supervisor will bring your change to you. Very vague, you just had to have faith that at SOME point, somehow, somewhere, your supervisor would bring your money in some form or another. He brought it to me in an envelope and said "Here's your paycheck." Real funny guy.

It wasn't too bad, though, they let you listen to music. That was nice. Although when Pink Floyd is telling me to breathe in the air, all I can think is, "it's called coolant." Because that's what you breathe when working on those CNC machines is coolant that smells like a cat piss-soaked couch. Guess how popular I was after work? Shit, who am I kidding, guess how popular I am regardless of work?