8- Deep in the Dungeon

I felt betrayed by the job, after having expected to be part of the song and dance routine Jimmy and Frank engaged in between the maddening rush of boxes down the shoots.

Instead I found myself with the prospect of pain and sweat, a torture chamber where flesh came into constant contact with tiny, sharp points of metal, in a dance I knew I could not sustain.

The area I worked in didn’t even have a window or if it did, someone had covered it over with plastic so that we were forced to work under the glare of florescent lamps.

I could not tell what time of day it was, except from the rare glimpse I got of the large clock when I took breaks or went to lunch.

The job might have seen less traumatic if I did not feel as isolated at I did. Even though hundreds of people worked around me, none seemed to speak English. Since Jimmy and Frank took lunch and breaks at a different time than I did, I didn’t even get to see them for the whole eight hours between my punching in and punching out.

I also felt like the idiot child in this place since I could not do the job as well as the others could.

This job involved drying sheets and blankets, which meant I had to drag out wet cloth from canvas carts, spread them out on what looked like a large picture frame around which were thousands of tiny pins to hold these in place – a kind of metal Velcro that made my fingers bleed.

Those who performed this task over long periods eventually developed callouses similar to those guitar players did. Most of those who worked around me had a knack for it that I lacked. I pricked my fingers so often I left blood stains on the sheets and blankets, forcing someone to bring them back to get rewashed. Each time someone – often the area manager – scolded me in Spanish. I didn’t need to understand what was said to feel humiliated.

I went outside for breaks to smoke or drink coffee and catch any bit of sunlight I could before plunging back into the dungeon. I felt trapped and knew I had done this to myself. Since I had very little money, I drank water to make up for meals, which made me need to use the toilet more often than management liked.

This was so horrible experience I actually became homesick.

But I was still too stubborn to call, even though I had the vain hope that I might look up at see one of my uncles making his way through the maze of machines to come rescue me.

But even after work, when I got to be with Jimmy and Frank again, they were still full of merriment and I was full of misery.

I was so weary I could barely keep awake to join in on any of their pranks and longed for dark when I would make my way up to the back seat of Alf’s car so I could sleep.

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