Meet me after work.
I know what he wants. I’ve got a new stash to sell and I need the money, so when I change into my work clothes, I stuff just enough into my steel-toe boot before putting on my Dickies and a polo with the warehouse logo stitchedonto the chest. A big coat, too. Even in the summer, it’s freezing in the warehouse.
I’d lose my job if Bob caught me with this shit at work. But I need to take the risk. The little side-hustle pays more than my minimum wage packing job, but it’s less steady, and I need steadiness too.
One of the perks of shift work is that you miss rush hour. There’s hardly anyone on the bus. A couple of teenagers sitting on the backseat listening to shitty electronic music on their iPhones. A woman my ma’s age in nurse’s scrubs, rubbing her feet and yawning.
I clock in when I get to the warehouse and put my earphones in to go and start packing at the conveyor belt when Bob steps in front of me. I take my earphones out, my music blearing.
“How are you doing, Evan?”
I shrug. “Fine.”
“How’s your mom?”
“She’s fine … ” I remember this guy’s my boss and alter my attitude. “Thanks.”
He gives me an awkward pat on the arm and I walk around him to get on with my job, but he calls me back. “Oh Evan, I know it’s a bad time, but I was just wondering if you’d thought any more about the electrician course?”
“Uh, no, sorry, I haven’t really had time-”
He holds his hands up. “No worries. Just let me know when you’ve decided, I think you’d be great for it.”
I turn my music up and try to zone out, but I’m thinking about that stupid course Bob’s been trying to get me to go on for months.
Everyone’s trying to be like those big companies now, selling the illusion that they’re more than a sweatshop paying everyone minimum wage and milking themfor their cheap labor while making a CEO rich. No matter what Bob says about me taking the opportunity for free training, I can’t see anything this place does as benefitting me. I don’t want to roll over and be their lapdog and thank them for the chance.
After the first fifty boxes, I start to get into a rhythm and forget where I am. Some of the women talk while they work, but mostly people just look like fucking zombies, like me, busting their ass doing the same thing over and over until clocking-out time.
I get a break four hours into my shift and pour a strong coffee into a scalding hot plastic cup to keep myself awake, eat a Snickers, and check my phone.
Another text from Adam:
What time do you finish?
He must be desperate.
Eleven.
Meet you there.
I go back to my shift, on edge from the coffee and the thought of having to go out and do more work. Work that could get me into trouble if I got caught.
I clock out, in no rush for once to get out of here.
Adam’s there when I get out to the parking lot. He’s not alone. Never alone. Corey and Paddy lean on the wall, looking conspicuous as fuck. I briefly consider walking past and not looking back, but I can’t do that. I pull the collar of my coat up and hope Bob doesn’t see me meeting these guys.
Adam stands up and slaps my hand. I nod. “Hey, man.”
He licks his lips. “Shall we smoke some before we go out?”
“I’ve only got enough to sell.”
“We’ll put it back, won’t we?” He turns to Corey and Paddy and they nod.
My heart sinks. These guys aren’t exactly ‘friends’. They don’t know shit about me. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them. But they’re all I have outside of work and my ma and Stacie. And then there’s the prospect of getting high. Forgetting everything for a while. Taking a vacation from life.
“You’ve gotta put it back, though. I’ve got bills-”
