Life of an Ice Cream Man at Marble Slab Creamery

A man once was quoted to say “war is hell”, he never worked at the Slab. Marble Slab Creamery, is indeed an ice cream store. Whenever I describe my job to anyone they tell me how fun they think it would be, and I simply laugh darkly and nod. I’m afraid working at THIS ice cream shop is not what you would expect.

My first, and foremost complaint is my boss. Yes, yes I know how terribly redundant and expected for a worker to have distaste for their employer. I tell you this, I have never felt hate before I met this man. You are most undoubtedly asking yourself… “what possibly could be so wrong with him”? The answer is not simple, nor is it short.

Mr. Black is his name, a fitting name for someone whose heart is as black as his. He has terrible anger issues, and I have my doubt as to his grasp of reality, and his mental stability. His temper is worsened by his terribly foul mouth, and disrespect for others. I personally have been verbally abused by him on a few occasions.
(I plan on posting a continuation of horror stories)

Another big concern is my work space. We do not rent a store at the mall. The ice cream store is located in a small sitting area, surrounded by actual live plants and palm trees. The ceiling above the store is made completely of glass, to save money on light fixtures I’m sure. The third fault is the extremely small.

Live plants may look pretty, but when they decided to put a business that serves food surrounded by plants. Because boys and girls, what lives with plants. Yes, bugs… roaches, beetles, flies, bugs!

Global warming’s a bitch, but that’s not the greenhouse effect that I experience at work. Have you ever tried to roast an ant with a magnifying glass.. it’s basically the same concept. Just to add to that vision, there is one big issue with quality of ice cream, people usually like it frozen.

I am not a small person. About 5′11 and 210 pounds (its all muscle), but even the tiniest of workers have difficulty walking around when we have less than 3 and a half feet of space between two counters. Imagine having three people working trying to avoid bumping into each other carrying ice cream cones around, its not a good situation.

When I applied for the job I asked for at least 20 hours a week of work. I said I COULD work during the weekend, but I would rather work during the week. And here I am.. a year later… getting 8 hours max a week.

Now for one final. very angry paragraph. I am sick and tired of dealing with this bullshit. I hate my job, I hate my boss, I hate every god damned thing about it. I have never been treated as badly as my devil reincarnate, Nazi Bastard, money grubbing, heartless and cruel, son of a whore, asshole of a boss does. He can burn in hell, and take his ice cream with him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!