working the line

I spent one summer on an assembly line in the egg department of a chicken processing plant.

One summer.

And during that summer I remember just scouring my mind for entertainment! I kept going through movies, books, vacations, whatever happy thing I could think of to ease the boredom of snatching small, medium, large cartons of eggs off the revolving table before me, putting them in the appropriate boxes, taping them shut when filled, and shoving them onto another conveyor belt.

That was it.

I remember too looking closely at the lady, Bertha, who worked beside me who had done this all her life. I simply couldn't conceive of it.

And while it shocked my young mind it also taught me a life-long lesson of empathy. I understand that Bertha didn't view the job through my lens. She may have also found it boring, but it may literally have meant medication for her aching back, food on the table, heat in the house, a house.

People have to do menial jobs to survive and we are the beneficiaries of their labors.

The pandemic took these people in processing plants out by the hundreds all over the county. At one plant they pray together before they hit the line, hoping to survive the day - not from boredom, but ravaging illness.

My heart aches for the Berthas.