Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

I woke up with huge, sausage fingers too swollen to type a long post today. I wonder if I’ll be able to work with disabled hands. I really hope I’m not tweezing anymore.

I just slept for about 7 hours. That’s really all my free time allowed. When they say you have 16 hour shifts they really mean you only have about 8 hours of leftover time to do with as you may. My roommates offered me a homemade beer can pipe of weed yesterday, well actually this afternoon, and I politely declined only to pass out on my bed half dressed and probably snoring. I like my loft, it lets me sleep in whatever I feel like wearing, namely the same clothes I worked in because I am both gross and lazy. I  pulled the pin bones from salmon carcasses for a good portion of yesterday’s shift. Not very difficult, but there is a certain skill to it that I haven’t quite acquired. I now have a tiny ass little blister from holding tweezers. Never thought that would happen.

I was leaning against a pillar yesterday with my hood up, completely regretting my decision to see how factory life was, when someone touched my fingers. I looked up to find one of my supervisors looking at me, apparently checking to see if I had survived my first shift, or if he should cart my body out of the way. I smiled awkwardly, flashed a thumbs up and went back to gingerly picking bones with my stiffened hand.

The plant music is extremely different than I was expecting. Its like a cross between pump up athletic music, and stuff you would hear in a schnazzy dance club. I think they want us to get all amped up and subliminally feel better about our jobs. The entire fillet line around the conveyor belts shouts along with the music on random songs, especially to the lyrics, “work sucks, I know.” Apparently the first four days are the hardest so we shall see. I’m definitely dressing warmer today, got my insulated gloves, a gnarly tangle of unwashed hair, and new boot insoles. I’m good to go. Let’s hope I don’t regret flying out here.