Coleman Generator Plant—Darrell, Line Supervisor

Some girl in Florida better be able to play Nintendo
when the power goes out. Stand here—
take the copper wires like so. Don’t touch that button

with your elbow. Fix your fingers
on the base, and kick the switch on the spreader,
not with your left foot or you’ll trip

the sensor. Turn the wires 45 degrees
toward the gap on the inserter, press firm
like you’re holding down a rabid Rottweiler,

not too close or it’ll bite, and you’ll get
a thumb nub like this one—ain’t as bad
as Mooch’s. He lopped off one

and a half on his good hand, hopped around
like a retarded bunny. Some of his blood’s
still under the lid. Son, generators don’t build

themselves. Pick up the core from the line—
they’re usually 43 pounds, but they’ll get up
to 85 on the biggest beasts—move it

to the inserter, and don’t let the papers stick out—
nobody gets the bonus if we don’t
get them papers right. Drink plenty

of water or you’ll pass out, crack your head
on the concrete. There ain’t no air conditioner,
so you’ll sweat your weight in half a day.

Keep up the wire and the papers, but don’t sweat
the blocks running out. Carl’s on the line—
you’ll have blocks all day. Pull it off

the inserter—start her down the line. If you don’t
know nothing, ask Pedro—he’s from Peru
or somewhere down there. He don’t do English,

but he’ll tell you when you screw up. I’ll see you
in two breaks and 12 hours. If you break
those safety glasses you have to pay for new ones.



Copyright the author(s) ©2007–2012