This article is part of the The Blue Stripe Logs series.
Hey, my name is Groot Moredo. I am (or was) a food service worker for the Rebel Alliance. I'm actually a supervisor, which means I get to bitch to the bosses when shit goes wrong, but all that title means on an average day is that I have to fill in for everyone. Everyone who calls in sick or is late, I have to fill their shoes and do their job.
I like to think of myself first and foremost as a family man. I have a lovely wife, Shashik, and a handsome young son named Thogut. I believe in the Rebel Alliance, but mostly this is just a job for me. I used to run a really posh Jedis-only restaurant on Coruscant, but these days I'm lucky if I get to thaw 500 bagels for a brigade of borderline retarded meatheads.
Anyway, I was asked to do a journal of my work, but I thought it might be more fun to just show you the incident reports I filed with my various superiors. These are pretty representative of the hell I have gone through in my job. Maybe they will bring you some tiny amount of pleasure.
FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH MANDATORY DRESS CODE
Date / Time: 4-14-79 / 06:30
Incident Description: Rootookini refused to wear his Apple Dumplin' Gang server's uniform for the third time and flew into a rage when I suggested it would be alright if he just wore the cowboy hat and vest.
Rootookini is our only wookiee server and he is our main source of complaints. He has repeatedly refused to wear his cowboy boots, citing a lack of feet, and he complains endlessly when he actually bothers to wear his uniform blue jeans to work. Lately he has begun to refuse the entire uniform, which is not only in violation of the workplace manual, but it is also highly unsanitary.
When I suggested that he might be more comfortable as a dishwasher he screamed incoherently and tore apart several full-body hair nets. He then threw plates at our customers and disappeared up into the ventilation for over an hour. We were able to chase him out by sending practice droids into the ventilation, but custodial services claims he defecated repeatedly in the main heat exchanger.
I really want Rootookini to succeed. He had a very rough puppyhood; his parents died in a tragic accident involving a giant drain and he ended up an outcast living in the primordial jungle of Kashyyyk. He was saved from being eaten by a particularly large and hateful jungle duck by a Trandoshan. He owed the Trandoshan a life debt and the Trandoshan, unfortunately, turned out to be a child molester.
It's all a very tragic story, but the bottom line is I have given Rootookini as much space as I can. He is off server duty and until HR decides what they want to do with him I don't want to see him in the Apple Dumplin' Café. We have Dave Moonskipper's birthday next week and I can't afford to juggle that with a potentially dangerous eight-foot tall monster.
Suggested Action: Termination.
INAPPROPRIATE USE OF CAFETERIA FACILITIES
Date / Time: 6-5-79 / 22:45
Incident Description: Admiral Ackbar's wife has once again laid her eggs in our refrigeration unit. I warned her about this last month and she persists in secreting a foamy egg case and depositing her clutch in the meat cooler. When I bring the subject up with her she starts screaming in that threat-hiss of hers and if I press the issue she sprays ink at me. I have no problem meeting her husband's dietary needs, loathsome though they may be, but she needs to cooperate with our requests.
We will be happy to set up a cooler specifically for her to lay her eggs. When they hatch we can prepare them just as Admiral Ackbar enjoys and pickle the remainder of their young for future use. Her last clutch hatched unbeknownst to us and escaped into the employee lockers. They found books and learned how to read and several of them climbed on top of each other and got inside a coat and tried to walk out of the cafeteria.
They started screaming and spitting ink when we caught them. We had to blast them just to shut them up and several of my employees were very disturbed by the incident. It's just an all-around bad
Suggested Action: Please speak with Mrs. Ackbar.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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