Powdered Chaos: Surviving the High-Zone Hijinks of Sudanese Work Kevin
If you’ve ever worked in a factory—especially one where sanitation is king and everyone’s dressed like a rejected Teletubby—you know teamwork is everything. But what if one of your teammates was a certified “Kevin”? No, not that Kevin from accounting who never refills the coffee pot—I'm talking about the legendary Kevin archetype: the well-meaning, blissfully clueless coworker whose mere presence can send your blood pressure to the stratosphere.
Today, we’re diving into the powdered pandemonium of “Sudanese Work Kevin”—a true story from Reddit’s r/StoriesAboutKevin, where one user recounts their surreal, sanity-testing experience working alongside the most oblivious employee ever to grace the baby formula industry. Grab your bunny suit and buckle up, because this is one workplace saga you won’t soon forget.
Bunny Suits & Brain Farts: The Kevin Chronicles
Let’s set the scene: Our narrator works at a factory where powdered baby formula is produced. This isn’t your average warehouse gig—sanitation is so critical that employees don full-body “bunny suits” whenever entering a “high zone.” Imagine a room full of Oompa Loompas prepping formula for the tiniest, most vulnerable customers imaginable.
Enter Kevin, a South Sudanese coworker who, the author assures us, is an outlier among the generally stellar Sudanese staff. (We love you, South Sudan. This one’s just… special.) From day one, Kevin manages to embody the spirit of the “Kevin” meme: a loveable disaster magnet with a PhD in forehead-slapping moments.
Strike One: The Suitless Wonder
First up, we have the “metabolic clean.” This is no casual Clorox wipe-down—think hazmat chic. Everyone’s suited up except, of course, Kevin. When called out for skipping the bunny suit, he shrugs it off with a nonchalant “Aw, I forgot,” as if he’d merely misplaced his car keys. When reminded of the importance (“You have to wear your bunny suit every time you’re in a high zone!”), Kevin responds with a pouty snap, then disappears for a suspiciously long 15-minute break to, presumably, sulk and contemplate life.
Let’s be real—forgetting your bunny suit in a baby formula plant is like forgetting your pants at a board meeting. Not a great look, Kevin.
Strike Two: RTU Runaround
Next, our narrator steps out for a bathroom break and, upon return, asks Kevin if there’s anything else needed from outside the high zone. Kevin finally remembers they need RTU—a cleaning chemical akin to isopropyl alcohol. But when asked to hand over the empty bottles for refilling, Kevin acts stunned. “Oh, you need those, too?” Cue the narrator’s existential crisis. How does this man function on a daily basis? Is he powered by good intentions and ambient confusion?
Strike Three: The Conveyor Belt Conundrum
The pièce de résistance comes during a canning operation. Once the order is done, the team stops sending cans down the conveyor—aka “cutting the cans.” Kevin, however, fails to grasp this concept after nine months on the job. He signals repeatedly for more cans, even after being told the order is finished… multiple times. At this point, the narrator enlists a forklift driver to explain it in a new language, hoping maybe “cutting the cans” translates better in Puerto Rican Spanish.
The Kevin Effect: Every Workplace Has One
While the initial reaction might be exasperation (and maybe a tiny migraine), there’s a strange camaraderie in sharing tales of a workplace Kevin. They’re the folks who remind us that common sense isn’t always so common—and that patience is a virtue best learned on the job.
What’s fascinating here isn’t just Kevin’s obliviousness, but how it exposes the hidden systems and rituals of factory life: the bunny suits, the high zones, the lingo (“cutting the cans”), and the intricate ballet required to keep everything running clean and safe. In a weird way, Kevin’s mishaps highlight just how much the rest of the crew brings to the table.
The Takeaway: Laugh, Cry, and Share Your Kevin Story
As our weary narrator says, “Luckily, [Kevin] has transferred over to the first shift whereas I still work second shift, so I no longer have to put up with him.” Sometimes the universe listens—sometimes it just moves your Kevin to another department.
If you’ve survived your own workplace Kevin, you know the struggle is real. But you also know every shift is a little more memorable (and a lot more meme-worthy) because of them.
What’s your wildest story about a Kevin at work? Share your tales in the comments below—and don’t forget your bunny suit next time you clock in!
Inspired by u/AdventurousBuy7719’s “Sudanese Work Kevin” from Reddit’s r/StoriesAboutKevin. Read the original here.
Original Reddit Post: Sudanese Work Kevin