Monday, December 5, 2011

Bovine. Jane Bovine.

And that was just some of the ribbing I got for my mistake this past week.  I have been heckled by most of the senior agents with a few nicknaming me "Double Naught."  Unlike some of them, I take my job seriously and I know that I unfortunately made a mistake.  I cannot begin to describe the embarrassment I had when I told my boss, Agent 101, my theory on how The Farmer must belong to some kind of cult of the Wooly Bull led by a pharaoh.  She laughed in my face when she explained it was just a song from the 60's by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs that The Farmer was playing for his kids to dance to.

I'm a young agent, only 3 years old.  Like most cows I had my first calf at around two years of age and began my first lactation.  How am I supposed to know pop culture from fifty years ago?  But answer me this, did The Farmer's kids begin standing and walking within an hour of their birth?  When (or if) did they reach their maturity?  I was working full time and finished my agent training before they were even out of diapers.

I have about half of my three hundred or so days of milking left and then I will be reassigned to the dry cow group of cows for two months before I calve.  Maybe by then the other agents will forget my faux pas and the nicknames.  But knowing them, they probably won't.

Agent 230, reporting quietly, from the Udder Side.

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