The Dangers of Sewing Pillows

It's getting to that time of year at work when things get a bit boring.  It's not that busy, the phones go quiet, the emails go quiet and there aren't many people to check-in.  So we have the "other" tasks to get on with.  Letter stuffing, cleaning and the dreaded...pillow sewing.  Pillow sewing?  I hear you ask.  Yes, pillow sewing.  I do this task but I'm still not really sure why we do it.  But I'm a good Stalky.  I do as I'm told.  Even if it seems a bit weird...So what we do is buy in a load of new pillows and then sew pillow cases onto them.  These pillows are then covered with another pillow case and put into the expensive cabins.  Then, the pillows from the expensive cabins are brought into reception and we take off the old pillow cases, throw any manky looking pillows and sew pillow cases onto any decent looking pillows.  These pillows then go into the next level of accommodation and the pattern continues.  There are hundreds of pillows.  We have a right sewing circle going on at work.  No one to serve, no phones to answer so we're sat around, drinking tea and sewing pillows.  Doesn't sound too bad I suppose but on a 9 hour shift it can get a bit tedious.  Not to mention, the hazards of pillow sewing!  I, clumsy as I am, am highly at risk from pillow sewing.  I have lost count of the amount of times I've stabbed myself with that needle.  I drew blood a number of times on Thursday and had to plaster up my fingers.  That and the folding of 363 letters - oh the paper cuts - meant that my fingers and hands were looking a little worse for wear.  Fine as long as I stay away from vinegar.  So, at the end of the day we start doing some housekeeping tasks.  I was on mop duty and was happily filling up the bucket with water when I realised there was no floor cleaner about.  On investigation I was informed that we don't use the floor cleaner anymore because it was making the floor too slippery or something.  Seemed strange to me but there we go.  So what were we using in place of the floor cleaner?  Vinegar.  Oh bloody hell.  Yes, we're now using vinegar to clean the floors.  I stared at that vinegar bottle and it stared at me.  I'd hoped we'd come to some kind of agreement that it would behave itself but I could tell that the vinegar was of the mischievous variety and he certainly had other plans.  I steeled myself for the fight and snatched up the vinegar bottle, poured some into the bucket and replaced the bottle without incident.  Excellent.  I figured with the vinegar safely in the water I'd be fine.  So I set about washing the floors and had to wonder how  long the vinegar smell lingered for.  It was getting pretty strong and I realised no one had actually told me how much vinegar to add.  I'd just sloshed it in.  Perhaps too much?  Perhaps.  Would customers wonder why reception smelt of vinegar.  Is this just a ploy to sell more fish and chips?  Who knows.  I kept on mopping, swish, swish, splosh, splosh and then...then I got distracted.  By a random Swiss couple who wanted WiFi access.  I think they were speaking German and as the only German I know is "I have a hamster in my leather trousers" I was having trouble understanding them.  Yes they could speak more English than I can speak German but still, the accent was making WiFi hard to understand.  In my attempt to assist my customers the mop slipped, the bucket (on wheels) tried to make a break for it and as I reached out to calm the situation, my hand grabbed the end of the mop.  The wet end.  And then I knew the vinegar had won.  My God did that sting.  It wouldn't have been so bad if there had been one paper cut but they were all over my hand.  That and the various stab wounds from an errant needle.  And no plaster was keeping that vinegar tainted water out.  But in the face of the German speaking Swiss couple I had to remain professional.  So I fixed up their WiFi, I bade them good night and then I cursed the wretched mop and its vinegar loving ways.  By this point I had practically finished and hastily returned the mop and bucket to it's home.  Then I went home.  Not because I was traumatised by vinegar but because it was home time.  And Mystical Roo was waiting.  We returned home and I started on dinner.  I grabbed an onion.  Peeled it.  Sliced it.  And then the stinging started all over again.  Nothing is safe!  Nothing!  I shall take to wearing mittens until my wounds are healed.