Warehouse Punching Bags Don't Hit Back
That wasn’t a wrench, it was a screwdriver, the bag laughed. "So, are you trying to tell me to go back to the wrench from whence I came?" I asked. "You got a smart mouth," I said, assuming a boxing stance. The bag hung passively.
I’m at my latest job. It’s in a warehouse in Western North Carolina located next to an auto supply store along a stretch of Spartanburg Highway. In the surrounding expanse are the Blue Ridge Mountains, part of the Appalachian Chain. At times the fog swirls around the mountains, covering the greenery with wispy, gauze-like strokes while at other times concealing parts of the landscape in a mystic…