Niagara Spray Starch
Omsk LifeChapter 17, Gone With the Evolution, by Micah Sabol 'Niagara Spray Starch' The Niagara Spray Starch cans were dumped out of a box and onto the conveyor belt. I had taken a temp job to make some money, any money, to make those monthly payments to student loan service. Loans that should have been easy to pay off after a university degree, but in fact were not, as the wages were incredibly low and opportunities were nil in the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, area. Living with my parents rent-free was the only way I could pay the loans and keep some gas in the old car. In the factory, a forklift sped around, and the diesel pollution constantly flew into the faces of the workers on the conveyor belt. There were only 4 of us in the windowless, dark warehouse. My job was to dump the spray starch onto the conveyor belt and roll the cans face up so that Niagara Spray starch labels were on the top. The other workers were quite a strange-looking group. One pentecostal man who slicked his hair down with vaseline in the 1960s style, and a tumble-over stringy heavy-set black-haired man in his early 20s who was always high strung due to snorting white powder during the shift. These two had the addition of another man in his 20s, tall in jeans, and long in lewd jokes. "Screw it!" he would shout gleefully to the slicked-down vaseline hair man. Then shout, "Reverse!" The same joke was repeated 100 times during the shift. I can't tell you how irritating it is to see the look of surprise on Russians faces that I had actually moved from the U.S. to Russia. I want to shout, What propaganda have you been doused with? Come with me, and I'll show you how nice it is to work in the U.S., in addition to no health care, no public transportation, and no future. And this job rolling spray starch cans was just a free sample of trying to find work in any of the areas east of the Mississippi to the Allegheny Mountains. One big de-industrialized rust belt. I remember my younger sister pushing a cart up and down aisles and loading automotive parts. She had a degree in psychology and art. You got to walk in my shoes. That would be good advice to the Russians. But it's hard for them to give up the belief in the West, I think. The Russians are by nature spiritual people and navigate to believe in something. Time for that American balloon to pop!
Omsk LifeChapter 17, Gone With the Evolution, by Micah Sabol 'Niagara Spray Starch' The Niagara Spray Starch cans were dumped out of a box and onto the conveyor belt. I had taken a temp job to make some money, any money, to make those monthly payments to student loan service. Loans that should have been easy to pay off after a university degree, but in fact were not, as the wages were incredibly low and opportunities were nil in the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, area. Living with my parents rent-free was the only way I could pay the loans and keep some gas in the old car. In the factory, a forklift sped around, and the diesel pollution constantly flew into the faces of the workers on the conveyor belt. There were only 4 of us in the windowless, dark warehouse. My job was to dump the spray starch onto the conveyor belt and roll the cans face up so that Niagara Spray starch labels were on the top. The other workers were quite a strange-looking group. One pentecostal man who slicked his hair down with vaseline in the 1960s style, and a tumble-over stringy heavy-set black-haired man in his early 20s who was always high strung due to snorting white powder during the shift. These two had the addition of another man in his 20s, tall in jeans, and long in lewd jokes. "Screw it!" he would shout gleefully to the slicked-down vaseline hair man. Then shout, "Reverse!" The same joke was repeated 100 times during the shift. I can't tell you how irritating it is to see the look of surprise on Russians faces that I had actually moved from the U.S. to Russia. I want to shout, What propaganda have you been doused with? Come with me, and I'll show you how nice it is to work in the U.S., in addition to no health care, no public transportation, and no future. And this job rolling spray starch cans was just a free sample of trying to find work in any of the areas east of the Mississippi to the Allegheny Mountains. One big de-industrialized rust belt. I remember my younger sister pushing a cart up and down aisles and loading automotive parts. She had a degree in psychology and art. You got to walk in my shoes. That would be good advice to the Russians. But it's hard for them to give up the belief in the West, I think. The Russians are by nature spiritual people and navigate to believe in something. Time for that American balloon to pop!