The Legoland Convention

I don't have many deep conversations with Mitch. In fact, most of the conversations we have border on the absurd, and if they are not completely nonsensical, they are filled with terrible talk that would either get us fired or land us in jail. For example, Mitch one day noted that many of the plastic bins that we receive from large clothing companies could probably hold a small child. Without thinking I remarked that shipping small children could be a lucrative business, as long as a person had no morals, and along with our 75% discount, it could be hypothetical money in the bank. Mitch then helpfully pointed out to me that we do not receive discounts on business related shipping, which put a small cramp in the idea until I worked my way around the problem with this terrible gem of an idea, "Then it won't be for business, we'll ship small children for pleasure."
Awful. Absolutely horrid. So, when Mitch said that he hated his job, I was mildly surprised, as it seemed we were about to embark on the uncharted conversational waters of a normal conversation. So I asked him why he was still working here, expecting a normal reply of over-work, under-pay or lack of sleep, but alas, that is not how we roll. Instead, he answered, "I took this job for two reasons. Firstly, when I was told I would be working graveyards, I assumed that they were talking about an actual physical graveyard, and I am still kind of disappointed that I still haven't seen one yet. Secondly, I thought working nights would turn me into a vampire. In spite of drinking the blood of three homeless people and several small children, I have yet to develop fangs and can still see my reflection in the mirror...I really hate working here."