Try Harder

June 27

Polytainers Incorporated made thin, rigid plastic containers for dairy products like yogurt, sour cream, cottage cheese and margarine. They had a huge manufacturing plant on Norseman Street, which consisted of three buildings: Administration, Assemblage, and Distribution. Adjacent to the main factory were five giant silos, stuffed with tiny acrylic pellets. These little gobs of plastic were shot through vacuum tubes onto the assembly line, where they were melted down and squeezed into moulds. It was a fascinating process, but unfortunately the silos let out a deafening hiss at all hours of the day, and the surrounding area perpetually stank like burning garbage bags.

Emily had been working there for over three years, and had risen to the level of Assistant to the Weekday Floor Manager. It may not have been a prestigious position, but it gave her enough influence to get her ex-convict brother a low-level job in the Shipping Department.

It was in a small room at the far end of the largest building, and also the only place in the whole factory without any air conditioning. Still, Buff was determined to make this work. He arrived promptly, fifteen minutes before his shift was supposed to start. He wore the regulation white lab coat and safety glasses, and had his hair neatly tucked under a hairnet.

His workstation was at the very end of the assembly line. A huge cardboard box full of empty cream cheese containers would come chugging down the metal rollers, and then stop abruptly right in front of Buff. It was his job to fill the boxes with packing foam. He used a plastic hose that snaked down from the ceiling, which released a torrent of Styrofoam peanuts when the nozzle was triggered. Once the box was full, he sealed it with a tape-gun, slapped the green button, and it slid down the line to the Distribution Department. A few moments would pass, and then the next box came barrelling in. Foam, tape-gun, button, repeat.

He checked his watch. He was forty minutes into his nine-hour shift.

He sighed as a fresh box of plastic containers slid down the assembly line. Buff aimed the hose towards it, pressed the trigger, and filled the box. A few stray foam peanuts missed and bounced across the factory floor.

Buff was sealing the box with packing tape when he saw someone walking towards him. It was Brent Patterson, his fat, bald little goblin of a manager. He had a face that looked pushed in, and horrible oily skin. Buff let out a sigh.

"May I speak to you a moment?" asked Brent, wheezing. He wasn't used to walking much. He usually never left his office. With a new man on the floor today, though, he was determined to throw on his white coat and hard hat, and make sure the job was being done properly.

Buff forced a smile. "Of course," he replied.

Brent pulled him aside and took off his hard hat. "How are things going?"

"Pretty good. I think I've got the hang of it." Buff was laying the charm on thick. Of course he had the hang of this brain-dead job. A monkey could do it. He couldn't understand why the company hadn't replaced the position with an automated machine.

Buff reached out to shake Brent's hand. "I want to thank you again for this opportunity, Mr. Patterson. I won't let you down. I'm a very hard worker."

"Of course. I'm sure you'll make a fine addition to our team. Any reservations I had with your... uh, background, well, they've been addressed with our surveillance cameras." He leaned back and pointed towards one of the newly installed security cameras above the workstation. He gave Buff a slimy, malicious grin, as though he were trying to publicly embarrass him. A humiliated Buff tried to smile through gritted teeth.

"You have nothing to worry about there," he said.

"Oh, I'm sure," Brent cooed. "I just have a few concerns about your packing process. I noticed that you've been depressing the trigger for the Styrofoam peanut dispenser in excess of the recommended three seconds. As a result, there is a surplus of unused styrofoam peanuts all over this floor."