Suckage, defined.

In one of the back rooms of The Store, there is an upper shelf on which sits a 55-gallon drum of Extra Virgin Olive Oil. This drum rests on its side, and the end facing out is tapped with a spigot. The spigot is kept closed by a combination lock, so that no one comes along and pilfers the oil.

Except, the lock only works as long as it hangs down, below the spigot handle. If it is flipped upward, end-over-end, so the dial points away from the person, the spigot can be opened normally by use of the human hand -- or by the tall cart of crackers that has just been put there by some vendor guy. In the latter case, of course, the oil flows freely out of the drum, down the cart, and onto the smooth concrete floor.

Now, hopefully someone notices this before, say, ten gallons' worth of olive oil spreads out in a giant pool in the middle of the receiving area (the most heavily-trafficked part of the back of The Store). Or, failing that, hopefully the person called to clean this titanic mess up is not me.

Today, unfortunately, was not a day for "hopefully".

(BTW, any readers of mine in the Washington, DC area who are interested in seeing what my company is like can now visit a brand-spanking new location of The Store. Here's the map. Readers in the Washington area who are Western New York expatriates might be really interested. Or, they might not care one fig. Ya never know.)