When I began working for that company, whose name rhymes with Ball Mart, back in the mid 90’s (why, yes, I’m feeling old) it wasn’t long before I transferred to 3rd shift for the night shift pay differential.
Working 3rd shift is a, well, unique experience. Working when everyone else is asleep, and vice versa, takes a lot of getting used to. Weird people go shopping in the middle of the night. Shoplifters shoplift in the middle of the night. The darkness also seems to bring out the crossdressers. At least, around here.
There was a nightly meeting before each shift began. The manager would discuss sales numbers and any other pertinent news. Then, we all had to do stretches. Yes, you read that correctly. There was mandatory stretching before we went out there and busted our asses.
Safety first. You know that company cares for its employees.
One of the stretches we had to do was to reach our arms as far back behind our, um, backs, as we possibly could and hold it while we counted to ten.
One particular night, a coworker – we’ll call her Opal because, you know, that’s her name – performed this particular stretch, but her hand ran into something. Instead of turning around to look at what her hand had struck, she decided to try to figure out what she had found by feeling it.
When I looked over I saw it all unfold. A male coworker was standing there with his arms behind him like he was on jet-powered roller skates, and his jaw was on the floor because his junk was being fondled by Opal, who was completely unaware of the service she was providing.
I burst out into laughter. Donnie, my male coworker, had been shocked into silence. Either that or he was enjoying it. Opal finally turned around to see what she had discovered only to find her hand all over Donnie’s crotch. There was an intense and awkward moment of silence while realization smacked her, and then she snatched her hand back. She repeatedly apologized to Donnie, her face as red as a Starbucks Holiday cup, while Donnie, a good-natured fellow, just laughed it all off.
And that, my friends, is how Opal got her name changed to Gropal.
What a great morning chuckle. Thanks!
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You’re welcome!
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GROPAL! I’m dying. 😀
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She never lived it down.
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GROPAL! I haven’t forgotten this all day. 😀
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Hahaha.
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Sure. It was an “accident.” Opal knew what she was doing!
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That’s “Gropal.”
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Bwa ha ha ha ha! 🙂
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Is there anyone under the age of 70 named Opal? Dirty old woman….
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Ha! She was actually in her 20s at the time. As was I. Sigh…
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This reminds me of the soap my mom watched. All My Children…Opal was a character…she was known to grope too. Ick…accidentally on purpose.
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Gropal!! It’s a phenomon!
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I will be thinking of this all day…..and giggling. Thank you
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You’re quite welcome.
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Oh dear! Part of me feels sorry for her but most of me is too amused and chuckling lots!
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Don’t feel bad for laughing. That’s what I did.
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