C7. Over & Out

My office at the bakery is tucked away from the main action. I have a window & can peer out through shelving to try to see why people are laughing or to get a glimpse of what people are up to, but for the most part, when I’m trying to be a worker, people have to walk into the office if they need to talk or ask a question.

Enter the pink mini walkie talkie set! Someone gave me these as a present, and they are a game changer.

Only…

Only, I’m a rookie.

In order to help others who might also be walkie-newbies, I’ve decided to share some key rules I quickly learned.

Rule#1: Walkie Talkies have no place in the bathroom. Ever.

I happened to have mine in my vest pocket when I went to the bathroom. In the middle of my throne time, the walkie talkie started loudly squawking at me and literally scared the crap out of me. :/ The kitchen was wondering where I was, and I had to figure out a way to tell her on speakerphone that I was…indisposed. The thought of someone in the hallway hearing me talk while in the ladies’ room was beyond embarrassing. Add to that the loud announcement of my whereabouts to the entire bakery??? It’s just too much. No one on either side of that conversation should ever…EVER… have a conversation under those circumstances.

Rule #2: Don’t ask your friends to come up with your ‘handle’.

If you receive a walkie talkie set as a present, it’s kind-of given that you have to come up with your call sign. Everything about walkie talkies are fun – having a radio name just adds to the humor. The conversation about what our handles should be happened within about 92 seconds of using the walkie talkies. Everyone joined in on the conversation, making suggestions. I was about to say ‘hey guys, it’s easy…I’ll just be KFC’ (which is funny/cringeworthy enough in itself) when someone says – ‘you are SO C7’.

C7. Seriously?

Yes. Seriously.

What’s the deal with C7? Well, in a nutshell, it means The B Team has spent far too much together time in the past couple of months. As you know, I hop on & off the diet soda wagon. After a long swim in waterland, I fell back into the sauce. It all started when I discovered the soda machine on the floor above the bakery. There used to be a machine right outside the bakery, but the machine apparently didn’t get enough action and the soda actually expired. The owner of the company emptied out the machine and left behind the red, dusty metal shell. Although I grieved the loss of this quick fix, it made managing my diet soda addiction a lot easier.

Things changed when I went upstairs on day. Walking down the hall, I spotted the shiny blue machine and it beckoned to me like a siren. I stood in front of it, my eyes darting quickly between A4 (Diet Coke) and C7 (Diet Gingerale). Before I knew it, I was back in my office, scrounging around for quarters just like old times.

So, when your co-workers all know what you mean when you say ‘guys, I’ll be right back. I have a meeting with C7.’ you know it’s time to re-think some things.