Emulsion Plastics: Now Hiring

Pulling off the highway onto the gravel road leading to the new plastics facility, Emulsion Plastics, Kathy’s heart raced, thinking about the different kinds of work she could soon do if the hiring manager decided she was the right fit. Instead of wearing the uniform for the diner, she wore a very modest dress with a high neckline and long enough to touch the tops of her ankles. She didn’t have very many pairs of shoes. Not really a need for them in Spiner. But she did have a cute pair of heels that took some getting used to but made her an inch taller. Kathy was grateful that Janice let her off an hour earlier than usual, giving her two hours to walk around in the heels. Watching her the first few minutes, you’d have thought you were watching a newborn cow get used to walking on all four legs. After the first hour, between doing her hair and makeup, she looked like she’d been doing it for years. Not that her feet didn’t hurt. They did, but she ignored the pain, knowing the job would require tennis shoes or something else comfortable. Not heels. Not for a factory job.

The Studebaker wasn’t driving all that great, not with Jack around to baby it. The motor knocked around like fresh popcorn being heated up. All four tires needed replacing, and Kathy didn’t have enough saved for a new car. Today, though, Janice let her take the Caddy for her second interview with Emulsion Plastics, trading her temporarily for the Studebaker. “You be mighty careful with mines car, you hear?” Janice exhorted as Kathy left the diner. “Youns get so much as a scratch on her, and youns gonna be hearin’ ‘bout it ‘till I go to the grave; you gots me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kathy winked at her, smiling. She loved the Studebaker, but riding in the Caddy was a treat. Driving it more so! “I’ll make sure it’s filled up, too.”

“Nah, doncha worry ‘bout that none,” Janice waved at her. “Youns gonna be late, girl. Git on outta here now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Convertible though it was, Kathy opted to leave the top up instead of taking the time to tuck it away. Her hair was almost perfect, and for Kathy? A good hair day was rare. Like four-leaf clover rare. She didn’t want the wind to muss it. Not today.

Walking across the gravel lot was challenging, but at least the builders poured a cement walkway leading up to a metal door with a steel-reinforced lock. Like most warehouse buildings, the door opened outward, and the spring inside the building prevented rusting and wear and tear. After her first interview, she knew not to knock on the door. No one inside would hear it, especially if the machines they were building were running at full capacity.

Her heels clicked on the smooth concrete floor, raising her heart rate and anxiety. She felt like everyone could hear her. Kathy felt the same uneasiness each time she used a public restroom to pee. Over the years, she learned how to quiet her toilet activities. But heels on tiled or concrete flooring? You couldn’t hide that. Kathy knew every woman, except Janice, felt the same about urination and heels on hard surfaces. Then again, Janice wasn’t like most women.

It took Kathy about three minutes to reach Mr. Wilkes’ office on the other side of the warehouse. Janice never insinuated anything. “They do that on purpose. Makes you feel all uneasy like. Youns feel intimidated ‘fore you even get to the office door. They builds warehouses like that. Makes employees feel like it’s not even worth their time to ask a question.” It wasn’t the distance bothering Kathy; the click-click click-click of her heels sent chills down her spine. Shivering, she stopped long enough to shake off the uncomfortable feeling. Then, holding her head high, she took a deep breath. Exhaling put the confidence back in her steps. A smile slowly crept across her face. She knew, absolutely knew, this job was a lock. A part-time position, less than fifteen hours a week. Assembling plastic pieces for whom? She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. If it paid better than Janice’s Diner? She was in.

Reaching the office door, she didn’t knock; she just grabbed the handle and opened it. Mr. Wilkes was talking on the phone, his back facing the door. He didn’t hear her come inside but turned, hearing the door click behind her. He motioned for her to sit down. “Yes, sir. Everything is in place, and production will start early next week. No, sir. I don’t project any problems. No. Absolutely not, sir.” Cole Wilkes slid his hands in his pockets, cradling the phone with his shoulder. Kathy watched him take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose. A few days ago, Mr. Wilkes came to the diner holding his briefcase like a new mom holding her first child. Today, Mr. Wilkes looked relaxed in this environment. Something about this office screamed accountant or bureaucrat. Or maybe because here he was in charge? “Yes, Mr. Moloski, it will be. Yes, sir. Thank you. Bye.” He cradled the phone like it was a snake, ready to bite.

The office was sparse. Two folding chairs sat on the other side of the old, metallic desk. On top of Cole’s desk was a clear plastic tray with a stack of what appeared to be applications. The desktop itself was made of some composite black plastic or rubber material. Besides the one tray, new Emulsion Plastics employee paperwork was stacked strategically on Cole’s desk. Fifteen stacks, one for each new hire. Everyone had a separate name tag, including a stack naming Kathy as a new hire. It was in the middle of the fourteen stacks. Cole was still standing, hands back in his pockets. “Welcome back, Ms. Hanover. I’m guessing that you’ve chosen to accept our offer?”

Kathy nodded. “How did you know I’d say ‘yes?’” she asked, pointing at the new hire documents.

Cole shrugged. “I didn’t,” he said, sitting down. “I hoped you would, so I figured I’d take a chance.” Cole had the same conversation with most of his new hires. Early in his career with Emulsion Plastics, he thought someone would ask a different question. No one ever did. And most of the people willing to work in rural America were struggling to make ends meet. That’s how it was in small towns, but more so in Spiner, Hanover, and Tweed. Retail or food service were the career paths available unless you had a college degree and could afford to leave rural Iowa. “As you and I discussed two days ago, your compensation is outlined in this packet.” Cole handed Kathy the stack of papers with her name on it. “As a part-time employee, you will not have access to insurance benefits, vision, or dental insurance. And you will start next week at four o’clock with these folks,” he pointed to the other packets on the desk. “Provided they also accept Emulsion’s offer.”

“Does anyone not accept?”

“Once in a while. But, your overall compensation package? It’s better than anything this area can offer, even for a part-time employee. And if you had a management position? Emulsion Plastics can beat most salaries.”

“It’s a very generous wage.”

“We expect a lot from our employees, Ms. Hanover, make no mistake about it. The work isn’t hard, but we need to be able to depend on you. Our reputation as one of the largest plastic parts and pieces distributors depends on you and your new coworkers.”

“I won’t let you down, Mr. Wilkes.” Kathy patted the packet. “I’m looking forward to the change of pace.”

He stood up, and so did she. They shook hands, Cole saying, “You can call me Cole, Ms. Hanover.”

“Please,” she smiled, “call me Kathy.”

Cole smiled back. “Thank you, Kathy. And welcome to Emulsion Plastics.”