Just One Word Benjamin, Plastics

After ending my career as a tin can packer, I found employment in the plastics industry. I was now a plastic injection mold operator. Sounds impressive, but in fact I was a no more than a link in the chain of production for something called 'cable ties', and the entire time I worked in that factory the company was working on eliminating the human element, me.

It made sense to try to eliminate the human element. We were after all, just in the way of a machine that except for the operators, worked just fine. From a hopper above the machine little pellets of plastic would be dropped into a heated tank. The liquefied plastic would then be injected into a water cooled mold. At that point the mold would open, and the human touch would be needed to reach in and remove the product. I, as the operator, would then move that product over to the assembly machine and hit two big red buttons. Two buttons so as to be sure that one of my hands wasn't still in the machine when it came slamming down, with belts spinning, and cutters cutting.

The job was stultifying. Working from midnight until eight in the morning, I found that I needed stimulation just to make it past the first hour. Strapped across the top of the assembly machine was my boom box radio blaring full blast. You would think that would keep me alert, but I could barely hear it above the roar of dozens of machines. A little marijuana made the job a bit more tolerable, except that the pot would wear off a quarter of the way into the night, and from that point on all I could think of was going to sleep. I experimented with amphetamines, and it worked wonders. The speedy little pill made work fun, for a while. For one thing the job was piece work, meaning I made extra money if I went over my quota. The speed made me think I was going faster than ever, but in the end it would always turn out that I had barely made my quota. When my shift was finally over I'd want to go home and sleep, but the amphetamine kept me buzzing along for hours, barely able to even blink.

In the summer of 1970 I lost this primo job. No more moving from the injection mold to the assembler machine five thousand times a night. No more begging for permission to go take a leak. The boss had determined that I had missed one too many days of work, out 'sick'. Also, the fact that I sabotaged my injection mold once too often just for a short break didn't help my cause. My life as a factory worker was over, and I have to admit, losing that job made me sad. For a few hours at least.