Most of us think of organic farming as a positive thing. I like to think I ingest fewer chemicals at dinner time. It contributes to a stronger self and a longer life. But what about work? Could organic farming be responsible for destroying my livelihood? How could that be?
My memory skips back a ways to just a few months ago. I was going about my business at my usual absent- minded pace. Upon picking up a perfect cluster of grapes I began my usual process of separating the heavy stems in order to fit them in those flimsy plastic clamshells you see in the store. As I began, I froze, just as soon as I had started. For there, deep within, was a great spider.
Now I deal with spiders all the time. Anytime a case of anything organic warms up just slightly there are many harmless brown and white spiders that scamper out. It used to be more alarming but now is simply a fact of life. I'm fairly sure organic farmers cultivate these spiders to keep harmful bugs away from their produce. Nothing to be afraid of.
Here in front of my gaze, nestled in its wispy web, between the giant green orbs of grapes, was a great black spider. Her metallic legs, like needles, held upon the stem; standing guard over her eggs. She was the menacing Black Widow. It was too cold for her, I knew, but it was only with a long instrument that I dared remove her from her home.
Since this incident, it came to mind, that it might be a good idea to catalogue the strange fauna I find in the flora. The problem with this is that I find that my job becomes a great deal riskier by the day.
It is never advisable to take all trucker stories to heart. Some, however, get in your mind, true or not, and fester. A trucker, that I talked to every once in a while, made his trek twice a week from the port in Louisiana to Minneapolis hauling a semi full of bananas. He made he journey a little later than usual that week. He spoke with a thick southern accent and was rather eager to explain. To my recollection it was something like this:
"Now when they are collecting the bananas in the wild they just chop 'em off the tree and toss 'em in the boat. Now when the boat got to us it warmed up and we found that the cargo hold was full of snakes. Now I don't know what kind of snakes they was. Alls I know is the natives called 'em step and a half snakes. Cuz that's all the further you went once you got bit. "
Perhaps some worker somewhere would overlook a small ornery snake and it would end up in the next box I pick up. The story of the chef who lost his arm because a brown recluse bit his hand while at work. And that box of bananas came from my work. I remember because he tried to sue. Not to mention the unnameable spiders from tropical places that get a free ride to our warehouse. Not like the plain colored spiders of our cold climate, but colorful ones. Metallic gleam, neon yellow, green, and orange spiders, some dressed in spots and others in stripes. God only knows what happens when they bite you.
Food from nature is a beautiful thing. Something pure like Adam and Eve walking around eating whatever they pleased without fear of even a single mosquito bite on their exposed skin. It makes me wonder why nature had to grow so many damn thorns.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Sunday, December 2, 2007
A character piece
Let me introduce you to a fellow co-worker of mine. Well, he used to be a co-worker, now he's a supervisor. I have many co-workers that are characters. This fellow just recently became more of a character than before. I call him 'the ferret'. I can't capitalize the name, even though I am using it as a proper pronoun, the ferret is man that cannot be respected.
The reason I call him 'the ferret': Most of my co-workers just called him 'stinky' but that was being nice. When they weren't being nice they used verbiage that cannot and should not be used anywhere. The moniker came from his pungent smell. Something akin to Marlboro, cat piss, and the lack of soap to clean up with. The ferret is in his fifties. Hippie hair and beard, his shirt undone to reveal a furry mat of aged beastliness, nestled into which is a gaudy golden cross. He has a long nose and a very high forehead offset only by his wide display of his smoked yellow dentures. Let it be known to all people that he both looks and talks, without exaggeration, like Tommy Chong in 'That 70's Show'.
I'm not sure how he got his job exactly. The theory is that he lied on his resume and our superior managers never bothered to call around. To begin with he was mostly a nice fellow, at least not outrightly mean as the supervisor above him. And he did about as much work as the rest of us.
A few things changed: he got the mean supervisor fired for stealing. A fact I now question. He was bumped up to the same position. Shortly after which he pulled a muscle in his back and no longer did any real work. The ferret, now completely bored, as he now had no real work to do began to take a turn that made everyone start asking questions. He began claiming that he was rich, that he had completed his masters and had a fortune waiting in retirement. He never answered any direct questions about his education. But he claimed to be an expert on everything.
I've had a large amount of experience with people who deliberately trying to sway your opinions of themselves by asserting their superiority. Largely these people that the ferret typifies, are generally thought to be losers (and don't get me wrong, they are). But they don't have to be: that's the hilarity of the whole thing. No one can be the best at everything, and there's nothing more pitiable than someone who says they are and fails at every attempt.
How did the ferret betray himself? For several months he says he talks to upper management about getting the lower workers more benefits and, occasionally, lunch. A point that he likes to tell us. If there is a meeting (even if its been posted for a week) he will tell everyone, the day of, as if it was something completely new. He would go to great lengths in telling me, and a few others that bothered to listen, how to do our job, which I found in most cases to be completely unhelpful. If anything was said that contradicted him or refuted him he would simply not hear it even if it was yelled in his ear. He would deny it completely. If one brought proof he would not remember the conversation. It came down to him not knowing a thing about what he was saying. That made everyone suspicious. Then it happened:
The branch manager came and told us that he would be buying lunch as we had all worked hard and set a record for the year. We mentioned that it should wait a bit for the next shift to show up so that everyone would reap the benefit. So the word was put out and pizza was to be delivered when the next shift got in. Enter the ferret a few hours later: "Hey guys, I talked to the boss and got us all pizza tonight."
The reason I call him 'the ferret': Most of my co-workers just called him 'stinky' but that was being nice. When they weren't being nice they used verbiage that cannot and should not be used anywhere. The moniker came from his pungent smell. Something akin to Marlboro, cat piss, and the lack of soap to clean up with. The ferret is in his fifties. Hippie hair and beard, his shirt undone to reveal a furry mat of aged beastliness, nestled into which is a gaudy golden cross. He has a long nose and a very high forehead offset only by his wide display of his smoked yellow dentures. Let it be known to all people that he both looks and talks, without exaggeration, like Tommy Chong in 'That 70's Show'.
I'm not sure how he got his job exactly. The theory is that he lied on his resume and our superior managers never bothered to call around. To begin with he was mostly a nice fellow, at least not outrightly mean as the supervisor above him. And he did about as much work as the rest of us.
A few things changed: he got the mean supervisor fired for stealing. A fact I now question. He was bumped up to the same position. Shortly after which he pulled a muscle in his back and no longer did any real work. The ferret, now completely bored, as he now had no real work to do began to take a turn that made everyone start asking questions. He began claiming that he was rich, that he had completed his masters and had a fortune waiting in retirement. He never answered any direct questions about his education. But he claimed to be an expert on everything.
I've had a large amount of experience with people who deliberately trying to sway your opinions of themselves by asserting their superiority. Largely these people that the ferret typifies, are generally thought to be losers (and don't get me wrong, they are). But they don't have to be: that's the hilarity of the whole thing. No one can be the best at everything, and there's nothing more pitiable than someone who says they are and fails at every attempt.
How did the ferret betray himself? For several months he says he talks to upper management about getting the lower workers more benefits and, occasionally, lunch. A point that he likes to tell us. If there is a meeting (even if its been posted for a week) he will tell everyone, the day of, as if it was something completely new. He would go to great lengths in telling me, and a few others that bothered to listen, how to do our job, which I found in most cases to be completely unhelpful. If anything was said that contradicted him or refuted him he would simply not hear it even if it was yelled in his ear. He would deny it completely. If one brought proof he would not remember the conversation. It came down to him not knowing a thing about what he was saying. That made everyone suspicious. Then it happened:
The branch manager came and told us that he would be buying lunch as we had all worked hard and set a record for the year. We mentioned that it should wait a bit for the next shift to show up so that everyone would reap the benefit. So the word was put out and pizza was to be delivered when the next shift got in. Enter the ferret a few hours later: "Hey guys, I talked to the boss and got us all pizza tonight."
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