Work was kind of funny today. I can't remember the last time I ever saw a grown man whine and complain so much. Gary is 38 years old, and he's kind of...well, he is a wimp. Now, it starts getting dark fairly early this time of year, so when we found out at about 6:30 that we had to go outside and load a trailer of bead bags, we knew we'd be working with little or no light. Gary had a major problem with this, "Oh, go out in the dark and someone gets hurt, that's real smart!". Then, when we were out in the trailer, he just never shut up. First, he didn't want to put 25 bags per row, because it was too much work to get the 25th bag up top (15rows in a trailer, 375 bags required). So I told him no we can manage it. But for the next hour, I don't think he went more than one minute without a. complaining about the lack of light b. complaining about something getting in his eyes or c. just complaining or swearing at the problems getting that last bag in each row. To be honest, I was having a really hard time controlling myself. Every time a bag fell off and he went "Oh Shit!" then tried oh so fruitlessly to stuff it back into its place, I had to stifle an urge to burst out laughing. Then I'd go over and do it for him. It was honestly just like working with a little kid.