SUPPLY CHAIN > POETRY
For eight hours a night, minus two
fifteen-minute breaks and thirty
more for dinner, I run the auger filling
machine in Production Room 1.
Tonight, my teammate and I
are running cayenne pepper. My job
is to pulse the pneumatic pedal
with a drummer’s steady rhythm
releasing a pre-weighed amount,
send the bottles down the line,
through the metal detector and to be
capped, and he will box the finished
product. A few particles escape
until a thin, invisible cayenne
cloud accumulates. My senses disappear:
eyes mist from a low-grade burn.
A deliberate film builds on my glasses
so slowly that I do not notice the haze
until I am on break. All I taste is a
faint heat. Nose blind, I cannot smell
what has been absorbed into my skin
and clothes until I shower well after mid-
night. Through the discomfort, I stay
true to that internal beat. My job depends
upon it. The cayenne pulses like blood
through the auger, and I am the heart
of the operation. Tray upon tray
of clear plastic bottles are pumped with
the lifeblood of this company. Together,
we fulfill our destiny.
Tom Lagasse has spent the last three years telling customers that items were out of stock due to supply chain issues for a family-run spice bottling company. During that time he also has helped implement food quality/safety procedures, worked the production rooms, hand-bottled imitation bacon bits, and lifted his share of boxes – all with mixed results. Before that he has bounced around as a retail clerk, freelance writer, and educational sales representative. He lives in Bristol, CT.
Twitter: @tomlagasse Instagram: @tom_lagasse Facebook: @tjlagasse