I have a paper due in my writing class tomorrow. It's only rough draft #2...you guys will have to tell me what you think.
�What is that smell?�
�Sorry�it�s me. It was a long day at work.�
To wash the smell off, I�m going to have to soak in the tub for at least 45 minutes, I thought to myself. Why does this stuff make me smell so bad? It gets ground into my skin. With all that black smeared on me, you can almost see the stench of the foam and rubber. Ugh�that smell. It just clings to my hair. I�ll have to wash it at least three times before people won�t be able to notice how gross it smells.
I rub my hands together, feeling the grime rub off in small chunks and sigh. Tired of being dirty, I sigh again, a deep sigh this time, and turn on the shower. I let it run for a few minutes, long enough to fill the shower with steam. The hot water feels so good on my aching back, I lean up against the wall in the shower. Hand on the wall, forehead pressed up against the back of my hand�trying to hold myself up; trying not to give into the fatigue that has set in my body after the rough day I had at work.
�You�re late again,� he teases me, trying to yell above the clanging blades of the machine he was standing in front of. I stood there watching him for a few minutes, flinching, in my half asleep state, every time he pressed the button on his machine, sending the large blades slamming down on the sheet metal he had laying on the table. The blades clank back up to their starting positions, patiently waiting for their next cue. I stand there too � ready and waiting for my first order of the day.
I fidget around as he stacks up the strips of metal he had just cut down to size. It�s only about 8:30 in the morning and the flies are already bad. The day is going to be hot � I can tell by the stillness of the air in the warehouse; the way the stench of rubber hangs all around us. I stamp my foot to get a fly off me. The flies won�t stop biting at my ankles. He turns and looks at me and says, �Nothing to do? Why don�t you see if Diane needs any help rolling at the Cameron.�
Seven paper cuts and 57 rolls of rubber stripping later, I look at the clock and realize we should have taken a break 10 minutes ago. �Break,� I yell over the rumble of the machine, wiping rubber shavings off my arms.
�Ok�we�ll finish this order when we get back. Remind me to ask Sarah when we get inside for another box of straight pins.�
�I think maybe I�ll take my break outside. Maybe there�ll be a nice breeze outside or something,� I say with a shrug.
I walk out to the parking lot where the trash compactor is booming and clanging, crashing and crunching between the two factory buildings. It�s not much better out here, I thought while taking a seat on the curb in the driveway. It�s almost noon, the sun burning me as if I�m sitting under a magnifying glass � the thick humidity amplifying the suns rays on my grimy skin.
I stand up a little too fast and feel the blood rush from my head, turning things a little fuzzy, disorienting me as I stumble into the warehouse. The air is full and thick � a sludge-like mixture of stale air, humidity, and rubber particles. I open the break room door and a rush of air hits me in the face. The blast of air cools my skin as I walk in and take a seat at the table, opposite Sarah and Diane. It may be cool in here, but the smell. Oh god, the smell is still the same in here. It�s every where. Can�t I get away from it?
�Come on guys, we need to pick up the pace! UPS will be here in less than an hour! We need these orders ready by then. Has anyone started the Unique order?� he yells across the warehouse at Diane and I.
�Oh shoot. We haven�t gotten to it yet. We�ve been working on the stuff on the Cameron most of the day,� she yells back.
�Well, take Katie and get started on that order. It needs to be ready by the time the truck comes.�
We started walking away when he yelled after us, �Do you need the spec sheet? You probably have the order memorized by now, you�ve worked it so many times.�
�Yeah, got it. 750 at three quarters, 250 at three sixteenths, right?� she double checks with him as she�s setting up the machine.
�Yep. You got it. Can you set the machine by yourself?� he asks.
�Already set.�
She points to a block of foam twice as long and almost as tall as I am. I help her lift the giant block onto a table that reminds me of an air hockey table, white with a bunch of little tiny holes in its smooth surface. We throw the block on the table just as I feel my arms give out from carrying the awkward weight. I have to massage the backs of my arms to get them to stop shaking from the strain I had just put them through.
I looked to see what Diane was doing, to figure out what she wanted me to do. She was playing with a bunch of buttons on a control panel attached to the machine.
�Alright, lets go. Ou grab that corner over there as soon as the table slides all the way out. Got it? The first couple, we�ll throw out, they�re no good. Lay the rest flat on that palate over there, k?� she tells me.
�Gotcha.�
She turns on the machine and the table starts with a jerk and then slowly moves forward. Just above the block of foam hangs a large blade, which she lowers using the control panel. A thin sheet shaves off the top of the block and when the block makes it all the way through, I quickly grab the top sheet before the table jerks back in reverse.
�Trucks here! You ready?� he yells at us from the open bay door.
It�s only been 45 minutes�the truck�s early, I think as I look up at the clock on the wall. My legs are getting shaky from all the walking I�ve been doing, going back and forth between the machine and the palate. My lower back is about ready to give out and I want to kill Diane when I hear her say, �We gotta speed things up, kiddo. Lets go. Truck�s here.�
Trying to keep up the pace she�s set for us, I try to get in some sort of rhythm. Between the clicks and bangs and humming of all the machines, I manage to find some sort of beat and count off the rhythm in my head. I start walking to the beat in my head, trying to keep myself occupied with something to keep my mind off the monotonous routine I�ve been doing for the past 50 minutes.
As I load the last of the Unique boxes into the truck, I wonder how we managed to do it. All of our scheduled orders made it on the truck. I look up at the clock on the wall outside the break room, it says 3:45 pm. I missed my last break trying to get that order done. I should just take off now. I am so tired�I just want to go home now. And never come back.
�Slurpee run?� he asks me. Usually I�m the designated Slurpee runner, but I really don�t feel like going right now. I tell him not today, that I�m beat and I�m going home a few minutes early since I didn�t get my last break.
�K, no problem. Good job today. Thanks for all your help, I�m really glad we have you around to help us out.�
It takes just about the energy I have left in my body just to walk out to my car and get in. The normal 10-minute drive home seems to take hours, I am so exhausted and want to be home at that very instance.
I notice the water temperature starts to change, turning slightly cooler than I would like it to be. Shoot. I�ve used up all the hot water already�and I haven�t even started taking my shower yet! As I turn around to grab the shampoo, I see it on the shower wall. A dark handprint left behind in my exhaustion, from me being too tired to even hold myself up any longer. A mark I left behind while leaning up against the wall to keep my legs from giving out underneath me.
That mark is still there, that black handprint on the shower wall. No matter how much I scrub it, and no matter what I use on it, its still there. I think of it as a reminder of all the hard work I did over the summer. A reminder of the job I had at the die cutting shop.