Think about how the assembly line has changed the world. America wouldn't be what it is today. Think of every product you use. Every good you consume. Chances are, everything you touch has gone through an assembly line. And you don't think anything of it. Welcome to the Eastern Nebraska Regional Pickle Plant. Welcome to Omaha.
Every day I clock in by 9 and stay til '5. I don't have a job title, but if I did it would be pickle seasoner. I work on Bread & Butter Pickle Chips. And every 10 minutes I add the seasoning mixture to a new batch. That's about 50 batches a day, with hundreds of pickles in a batch. And that's all I ever do. I smell like vinegar and mustard seed 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year. And I've been here for 17 years. That's a lot of pickles.
Here's the thing. After a while, this job isn't about the pickles. You just tune them out. This job is really about people. I've seen my fair share of guys who didn't have what it takes. I've seen people who are convinced they're only here for 6 months to pay some bills. But what I've never seen is a guy like Chip. He's only been here about 3 weeks, but every day he amazes me. He's an average worker but I can't stop watching him eat.
Every day, and I mean every single day he's worked here, he eats the same thing. At 9:00 he pulls out a red apple. And he eats it down to the core. And then at 12:00 noon, he does the same things. And now it's been about a month, and every day he pulls out the same red apple at 9 am and at 12 noon.
Well we all noticed it and we couldn't help but wonder, what does he eat for dinner? Could it be that all he eats at home is red apples? Is his kitchen nothing more than an apple container. We all started joking around and making bets. And by the 3rd week it went from a joke to a morbid curiosity.
And I was dying to find out.
So that's why I am, where I am. Crouching behind his house, kneeling under his kitchen window. Waiting for him to get home. I took a sick day and got here about 4pm--I couldn't risk having him see me follow him home. So now I'm waiting for this guy I don't even know to eat dinner. And I just heard the garage door.
The kitchen looks normal enough, and I can't see any food visible from here. Are those pantry cabinets empty? Is that fridge full of hundreds of red apples? I'm freezing my nuts off out here and I couldn't be happier.
I suppose I would be remiss in my storytelling duties if I left out the fact that I was completely naked and holding a pump-action shotgun. And I should probably come clean and admit that when I saw him getting out some ground beef out of the fridge, I became so enraged that I jumped through his window and shouted, "Why aren't you eating an apple?!"
It probably shouldn't come as a surprise that Chip was so terrified that he had to do something. I still thank him for shooting me in the leg, because really he had grounds to shoot me anywhere. I would also like to thank the staff at Saint Joseph's Hopsital for fixing me all up. I can't wait to get out of here and tell my buddies at work that Chip really does eat foods other than apples. Crazy Chip.
Loser.
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