Today’s guest post comes from Jim.
I worked for 2 ½ years at Hormel Foods in Austin, mostly in quality control and toward the end on the production lines. This was one of the last jobs that I worked at before I retired. As a person who supports sustainable farming and use of locally produced foods you would think that I would not be willing to work for Hormel. I am not one of Hormel’s fans, but I do understand that they are an important part of our economy as a major employer and major supplier of food products.
While I could say some negative things about working at Hormel, for now I will concentrate on things that I liked, in particular the people who work there. Almost everyone I met at Hormel was a capable worker because poor workers were weeded out quickly. Some of the workers helped me learn how to do the jobs I was given. My most unusual trainer was a Latino man who spoke almost no English and taught me how to make hams using sign language. He pointed to his eyes to let me know I should watch him and then wagged his finger to indicate my technique was not right. After showing me my mistakes he demonstrated a better way to do the work.
One crew that helped me run an x-ray machine for quality control really impressed me. This crew worked in another part of the plant and was temporarily assigned to help with x-raying. They immediately found the most efficient way to load and unload the machine and while they were there I had none of the problems with the machine jamming that occurred earlier. I found out that they had learned to give packages a push at just the right time to avoid jamming.
Probably my most pleasant experience was meeting and working with some Filipino women. I meet one of these women because she was a coworker and several others because they worked near me. Soon I found out that they ate together in the lunch room and I was invited to eat with them. They were very friendly and sometimes shared some of their interesting Filipino food with me. . On another occasion a Latino man also shared some good home cooked food with me. I tried some of his very well flavored ears of sweet corn and samples of empanadas that had an excellent pumpkin filling.
Veteran workers had lots of stories to tell me and gave me some suggestions for staying out of trouble. One of their tricks was to stay out of sight if they were ahead on their work and wanted to take an “unofficial” break. One morning when I was early getting to work I found several night workers hiding in a dark room toward the end of their shift. On some production lines you had to be an extremely efficient worker due to the fast pace of the work. I was told that a representative of a company that made a machine used at the plant said it was breaking because it was not designed to work at the high speed set by Hormel.
But it wasn’t the machines that made my time at Hormel worthwhile, it was the people.
Describe your favorite (current or past) co-worker.
Trail Baboon 
Good morning, fellow baboons! What a great day to be alive.
Starting inn 1966 I worked for the College of Liberal Arts (U of MN). My first job was helping freshmen sign up for classes and helping them handle the demands of college life. A co-worker who intrigued me at the time was Marilynn. She was 20 years older than the rest of us, which often put an interesting “motherly” spin on her dealings with kids who weren’t doing well in class. Marilynn was self-effacing, which I always like i people. She had little ego but a large sense of duty.
Later I was assigned to create a program for academically disadvantaged students (right after all the rioting that followed the assassination of Martin Luther King). I hired Marilynn to work with me because I thought our Indian, black and Hispanic students might relate better to an older woman than to someone like me. And I was right. We worked well together.
Our friendship is now 45 years old. When Marilynn’s husband of 60 years died, I began to write her a fairly lengthy daily letter, and we have exchanged daily letters now for about 14 years. Writing Marilynn is the first act of the day for me each day. In many respects, she is my best friend and I am hers.
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PS: Thanks for an interesting and well-written blog, JIm. Your ability to fit in with your co-workers speaks well of all of you.
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Thanks, Steve, for the compliment. I didn’t make any long term friends by working at Hormel. There were some people who could have become close friends that I haven’t managed to stay in contact with after leaving Hormel.
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Rise and Shine Baboons!
Right now my favorite state is Wisconsin–talk about pluck and determination for a nearly impossible task. Wisconsin Dems very nearly met their very, very difficult goal and they sent their message, pushing back at Gov. Walker in August. I admire that!
I have many ex-co-workers who are dear to me. I’ll tell you about Peter.
Peter is now a retired social worker who still volunteers as a Guardian ad litem in Ramsey County. He came to Scott Co Human Svcs 25 years ago as we were starting Children’s Mental Health Case Management Services. I was the first worker at that job and he was the second. I am 5’9″ tall. He is barely 5 feet tall. We looked like Mutt and Jeff walking anywhere together.
Peter is a poet. Anytime he is frustrated with his job, his life, politics, anything at all, he writes poetry. When I left that job for another he wrote me a rap poem which he performed in front of an entire good-bye party of 75 people backed by pre-recorded mouth-sounds (ala TLGMS). I still have a copy of that poem in my office! Right now I am waiting for the next issue of his political review in poetry which gets me through difficult political times.
I got him back. When he retired I sculpted him and gave him the sculpture as a gift.
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doug came to my house as a recent college grad who was working at best buy in the warehouse and at a funky restraunt in uptown. he wanted to do business and i allowed him to use all his skills and then some in helping me figure out how to take part in this interesting time for entrepreneurial trals. he has an attitude that is wonderful. i had a colleague who took doug and a rental truck from a trade chow in chicago to an appointment in wisconsin. they had to pack the truck, get the union guys in the chicago venue let them out of the building without doing the payoffs usually needed in chicago transactions, drive for 6 hours after a long day and get to know each other a bt along the way. my colleague commented that during the whole experience doug had maintained a positive atitude without bitching or complaining and was just an all around pleasant person to be around. i have been very lucky to find a right hand man who is a good person. not just a good peron to work with but a good person in general.
i have fired the opposite for reasons they simply don’t understand the work is fine the results are ok and the job gets done but the environmental difference is not ok. bringing poison to the workplace is not allowed. it kills the spirit and makes life ugly.
i’ll bet the hormel workers got a kick out of the fact that you jim take such an interest in the others that are there. i think its great that yo go and hang with the fillapino women. nice to see folks who are out there looking to experience all that is availabe. good post jim
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i can not join you at the guthrie tonight i will look for a review, i may be able to hook up for phc at the state fair but i will ave to check. the fair is a sacred event and i don’t want to mess up my kids visits to the poultry barn and art show
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Greetings! Probably my favorite place to work was Pillsbury. My last job before being laid off was in a department with 6 women, working in Community Relations and The Pillsbury Foundation — my favorite job ever. Birthdays were always celebrated, usually with subterfuge and bogus meetings to surprise the birthday gal. Except for Barb — she LOVED her birthday. If she didn’t plan the party herself, she would ask when and where it would be, unlike most Minnesotans who act abashed at the thought of celebrating their birthday. Barb was one of the nicest people EVER.
Diane was the other secretary — rather the Executive Secretary to the VP. I’m 5’10” and she was barely 5’3″ and we got along great. She did everything fast, fast, fast. We would go for walks in the skyways and she had no problem keeping up with my long stride. We’d take lunches and breaks together and she taught me the tricks of being organized and “taking care” of corporate executives. Mid-afternoons found us making a trip to find chocolate candy to keep us going.
For my 40th birthday there, Diane had gotten to work extra early, and had made a trail of fun size Snickers bars with my name leading from the door to our 37th floor right to my desk, with bunches more Snickers bars on top of cube or on shelves. That was the best — she was so thoughtful and knew Snickers were my favorite afternoon snack. I miss that place …
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Snickers? Is this Joanne the food purist? I’m shocked. SHOCKED!
Snickers are best frozen.
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“God got it just right when he invented Snickers.”
— Lynn Rosetto Kaspar
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Yes {sigh} … that was me. Of course, I was blimped out at 45 lbs heavier when I worked at Pillsbury. I have reformed my sordid chocolatey ways …
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Especially the really little ones that we still call Snicker Snackers even though that no longer seems to be the official term for them.
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I recall having a contact at Pillsbury named Barb…think she was who I called when I was in need of volunteer speakers and thought Pillsbury might have someone to fit the current request (mostly the speakers were going into high school classrooms). Hmm…wonder if that was your Barb? My Barb was a delight to talk to, and I always liked it when I had an excuse to call Pillsbury.
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Most likely it was. Barb is a dear and we worked with all the volunteer organizations within Pillsbury. The retirees, relocated spouses, reading in the schools, mentor programs, etc., Barb championed them all with great enthusiasm and heart. She was one of the most sincerely positive, upbeat and cheerful person I’ve ever known.
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One of the products I helped with at Hormel was their famous product, Spam. Some people might think that Spam is made from all kinds of pig parts, but it is actually made from shoulder meat that is removed from the shoulder bones by a machine. The machine leaves some small bits of bone in the meat that are screened out of the meat after the meat is removed from the shoulder bones. To be sure that no harmful bone gets into the spam, some cans of spam are x-rayed and any cans that have something show up in the x-ray machine are cut open an examined. Some times extremely small particles of bone that are not harmful are found in the spam that is examined. I did some of the spam x-raying and also did some spam disections.
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Yes but do you eat it? I do. (See my recipe for ‘Fox Burgers’ in the kitchen Congress).
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I am not a spam eating person, but did eat it in the past. It comes in many differentt fl
lavors. My mother served it fried. I know there are many ways to cook it and I remember that you did post a recipe that is in Kitchen Congress, Ben.
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I have to admit that I like having Spam on occasion… reminds me of my childhood. There was also something like it called Prem. (?)
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Fried spam, boiled spaghetti noodles with canned tomato sauce was my mother’s idea of a gourmet meal.
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PJ, in my house it was consolidated to Spam and Chef Boyardee (canned) Spaghetti.
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My favorite co-worker at this point is my husband. Our offices are side by side. He’s a really handy resource to have next door regarding test interpretation, and it is just fun to work with him. He borrows my books and toys at times, so I am a good resource for him, too. People wonder how we can work together all day and then go home together and spend the rest of the night together. I tell them it is a really good thing that we like each other.
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Sorry to be OT again, but I need a reading on who among us is interested in a cabin trip to my Cornucopia cabin the weekend of August 25 to 28. The night of the 25th is when my favorite Chautauqua show runs, “Riding the Wind.” If you don’t know what I’m talking about, try Googling it. It is a sensational show performed in a large canvas theater on top of a ski hill near Bayfield.
Cabin stuff: wonderful hikes, sand beaches, canoeing, poking around some fascinating shops, photography, hanging out at the cabin reading & listening to music, cooking meals together (or not), decent local restaurants, touring Bayfield.
I can have a few folks (but NOT many) sleep in my cabin. Jacque is the one person almost sure to come. How about you?
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Count me in! I just got my “real” vacation approved and would love to join you. I have a small tent and could camp out. I’d also be open to a small mom & pop type hotel if any are available. How much are tickets for Chautauqua?
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Chautauqua tent tickets are $18/$9. I honestly don’t know what the cheap tickets are like but assume they are somewhat more distant than the $18 tickets. But how far can you be from the stage in a tent? This is a show that presents the history of the area in a series of beautifully written songs, all performed with spirit while hundreds and hundreds of old photos are projected on a huge screen. I’ve seen it maybe a dozen times or more and can’t wait to see it again. ;
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Can you suggest any hotels or motels in Cornucopia or another nearby town?
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I haven’t stayed in any motel/inn/b&b in the immediate area. If you Google Cornucopia, Wi, then hit a tab for local businesses, you find several places to stay. I don’t know prices. The motel right in town is probably the cheapest. The Village Inn has rooms and is a nice place (good restaurant and bar, too).
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Update! We are “on” for that weekend. Krista will be there for several days. Jacque is joining us. tim just called and signed up. Those Trail members whom I know are going will all gather to see “Riding the Wind” and then do some stuff together (and some apart) in the next days. I see a potluck supper somewhere in there.
Keep tuned!
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Woohoo. It’s a party!
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Oh I wish i could – especially since an old friend recently started working at the Chautauqua show…but that is the weekend before school starts for Darling Daughter, so I think we need to stay closer to home. Dang it. Crazy how the summer slipped by.
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Steve – I have to ask — is there a flushing toilet and running water? Some cabins are more rustic than others. Forgive me if you’ve mentioned it before or if I’m being too fussy.
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Joanne: alas, my cabin is primitive. No running water; no flush toilet. There are motels nearby that do have them! My place is primitive.
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Hey Steve… just got back to the office with a client request for a meeting on the 26th, so although the teenager and I had it pencilled in, I think we’re going to have to pass. Rats!
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I’m afraid we’re not going to make it, Steve; was the only weekend available for a family traditional gathering in our back yard. If anything changes, will let you know.
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I would like to come. I have a sleeping bag but not a tent. Open to a motel, camping out, or just put me anywhere there’s a little floor space. I would be interested in carpooling with someone if we could work it out.
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Linda I think I could take you up. My thinking right now is that Jacque and I will go up together. We could add you if you could travel when we do. Krista is going to stay in town in an inn. tim will camp out. jacque has dibs on a bed in the cabin. I think that leaves for you a bed in the cabin or at worst a sofa.
I meet Jacque today and will learn more. Feel free to contact me; you have my email.
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if youd like a tent i can bring an extra.or bring the big one
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Lovely post, Jim.
I am currently in a similar position, as most of my co-workers are Hispanic, primarily from Mexico. I find them to be warm, generous and very conscientious people. From what I have observed, they mostly just want to do good work and provide for their families-very different from the theatre world in which there is a great deal of scrabbling after whatever shards of prestige there might be.
I’ve always enjoyed the challenge of working with people who do not entirely share my language-I think in that situation, more of an effort is made to understand and be understood.
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MIG, I agree with you about enjoying the challenge of working with people who have trouble speaking English. In fact, there are people who don’t want to make any effort to understand people who just have an accent and actually speak fairly good english. I wish these people would make the small effort needed to understand English spoken with an accent. It is hard to learn a new language. I would have a lot of problems if I was in a situation where I needed to learn a new language.
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Many years ago the local Farm Bureau chapter hosted 35 Russians and 1 interpreter. Two of them spent two days on our farm. And we didn’t get the interpreter. It was all sign language and a Russian / American dictionary.
They wanted to buy mutton to make us for supper… you can’t find mutton in the supermarket. And they really wanted non- alcoholic beer. I took them to the liquor store and they bought a 12 pack of that. And they drove the car REALLY FAST between the house and the barn (about 100 yards…Zoom! Screech! turn around, ZOOM! Screech!, repeat…)
I baled hay and they insisted on riding in the wagon. I have a ‘kicker baler’ that throws the bales into the wagon. I kept trying to gesture and indicate ‘this is dangerous; don’t do that, stay out of the way’ but they just waved me off, and stacked the bales as they were thrown into the wagon…and you know, that worked really well and I still stack the bottom couple rows of bales. And every time I do I think of those guys.
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Nice post, MIG. My daughter used to hire temporary workers in Portland, OR. She learned to admire Hispanic workers.
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Morning!
Jim- very nice.
I’ve had a couple crummy jobs but it was the co-workers that made it worthwhile. Well… you know, ‘most’ of them! 🙂
Here at the college my immediate boss Jerry has been my friend for about 15 years. One of our first conversations was that we had matching shoes.
My first job was working for a formal wear company. Working in the back room pressing tuxedo coats or vests or pants. It only lasted a few weeks, through the June wedding rush and then one day it was all over and they told me to go home until they called. And they never called.
But the first day, this little squat red haired woman called me ‘Spanky’. Her name was Dorothy. I’d never had a nickname and we didn’t know each other… she says to me ‘You know who Spanky is right?’ I said no, but I know he’s one of the “Little Rascals”. She just grins at me, ‘Yep!’ she says… She’s passed away now and no other nickname has ever stuck like that one did for a few weeks.
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i like it. why didn’t you let us know you had a nickname earlier spanky?
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Nice Jim.
10 years ago we used to visit in NC, just as interested people, not as part of our job, a very modern spinning mill. When they had a problem with the spinning machines, that company would send one of the grunt workers who helped make the machine along with an engineer. It would take the grunt worker about 3 minutes to diagnose and fix the problem. The engineers used to admit it would have taken them days. So the spinning company did the same to the loom if there was as issue with the yarn. Same thing happened.
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Other workers usually taught me new jobs partly because the supervisors probably didn’t know how to do the jobs very well or do them as fast as the workers. There were some supervisors that could do the jobs.
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A co-worker I miss dearly is my friend Lisa. She and I worked together at an educational non-profit, and though we both had the skills and knowledge we needed to work there, we were both fish out of water in a lot of ways when it came to the culture of the place. She was a little older than I, but we both had similar tastes in music, books, art and life. She and our admin Manette (who I also miss – she kept me in line and teased me mercilessly about my inability to keep shirts clean on days I had meetings) kept me sane and in good humor. Lisa was a good at finding the small things to celebrate, the right things to praise, and the cool stuff that might have otherwise been overlooked. She provided wisdom when I needed it, and I did my best to return the favor. When she had difficult decisions to make, I tried to ask the right questions to help her sort things out. When I was unsure how to attack a problem, she helped me find the start of the path. When we each left that non-profit for other work, we stayed in touch. We didn’t see each other often, but did get together from time to time. Unfortunately, one of the last times I saw her was shortly after my daughter was born. She came for a visit, and we were able to take a good long time to catch up, chat, and just hang out. She had been battling cancer, and was at the point where it appeared to be in remission, all her hair had grown back (extra curly – i remember teasing her about her Harpo ‘do), but you could still see that some of the color was drained out of her. She was delighted that i had a daughter, talked a lot about when her son was first born, and provided (again) excellent advice for my new situation.She died not long after that, having contracted pneumonia, and her immune system simply was too weak to fight back.When I was out of work 2 years ago, several times I found myself reaching for the phone to call Lisa, or about to type her an email – I talked to her anyway. I miss her counsel and her friendship.
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When I supposedly co-managed an ed non-profit, i hired a wonderful employee and person, Melinda. Then 4 years later I had to cut her job. Telling her that was the worst day at work I ever had.
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And thanks, Jim, for the lovely post. It’s clear you value those you work with – a fine, and all too often, rare, thing.
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My wife was a great co-worker everywhere she worked, for me 46 years ago at the U hospitals.
In teaching I was part of a group of six teachers and a principal who used to seek out new ideas, learn them, share them, implement them, share results. We would at times visit each other’s classrooms to watch and critique. Teachers are not as a whole very collegial–is any group–so this was very uplifting.
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I think I’ve talked about my current favorite coworker here before. I believe I called him Francis. I’ll stick with that for now.
Francis is quite simply the hardest working and most dedicated state employee I have ever worked with in 34 years. That’s saying a lot. I’ve worked with a lot of people. He and I are very different. He’s from Waterville and currently lives right across the street from the house he grew up in. He’s conservative in the traditional sense and strongly dislikes change. Even though he doesn’t trust new ideas or new ways of doing things, he will apply himself to learning and will continue to do some of the highest quality work that I have ever seen. We’ve become friends and he trusts me now even though we’re so different. It took a long time. I’m always glad to see him and I really enjoy working with him.
I’ve had other relationships at work that I really looked forward to. I’ve mentioned Deb here before. She’s an ultra-conservative Christian fundamentalist who still prays for my heathen soul. We worked together in the skilled nursing facility at the Faribault Regional Center. We chose to combine our patient assignments and work together all day long. There was a lot of heavy lifting and we each had 5- 10 patients assigned to us. It was safer and better for all if we stayed together.
Deb is an evangelist and if there is anything I dislike it is being told that my belief system is misguided or incorrect. I’m capable of making my own decisions and grappling with my own beliefs. Deb and I would work together – lifting, tugging, pulling, making beds and discussing the topic of the day. We never swayed each others’ opinions or choices but we listened to each other respectfully and I really enjoyed our debates. Deb is beautiful, kind, an exceptional nurse and a wonderful friend and I miss working with her.
Another favorite coworker was a male RN in the medical hospital at the Faribault Regional Center. He was kind, patient and very highly skilled. He was able to thread an IV into a vein that was little more than a spider’s web. He turned his nursing skill into a high art form. Like Francis, he was totally dedicated to his work and was almost as prim as some of the “old school” nursing instructors I’d had. I was always impressed by his skill and professionalism. It was ironic because he was a heavy smoker and had cardiac abnormalities of his own.
No one can ever tell me that state employees are inferior or do inferior work. I’ve been fortunate to work with some of the best that are out there anywhere.
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A favorite co-worker of mine from my last job was a fiscal conservative to the nth degree. Not always socially conservative, but didn’t think much of raising revenue by increasing taxes and was not a fan of what he saw as extraneous government spending (didn’t like W’s wars mostly because of the costs). More of a Buckley Republican (definitely not a Bachman Republican). He and I had some fabulous discussions and conversations in the run up to the 2008 election. He is also a total speed demon gear head and a huge fan of Formula One racing. I learned a lot from him.
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Interesting and well written post, Jim, thanks. I can imagine that you have lots of other interesting Hormel stories!
My favorite co-worker was Annette Larsen. Annette and I had both responded to an offer of employment by Kinderspital in Basel, Switzerland. We had both applied for the same position as au pair for a Swiss family, who, in turn, had forwarded all surplus applications to the children’s hospital once they had hired their top choice. As it turned, out we got lucky! We got to know the young woman who got the job, and it was a stinker. But that’s another story.
Because we were the only Danish girls working at the hospital, we were assigned as roommates in the hospital’s building that housed all their non-professional staff, mostly young Italian women with a few Germans, with a couple of girls from the Faroe Islands in the mix.
Annette was 24 and I 18. I didn’t smoke, she did, and she spoke only Danish. In the beginning she had to rely on me translating for her, often resulting in hilarious misunderstandings The first week we had a major run-in, but after a couple of days of not speaking to each other decided we needed to have a talk. We were stuck with each other, for better or worse, for our year-long contract, so why not try to get along. We had a long talk, and after that there was never a cross work between us.
Within a couple of weeks, I was promoted from cleaning a patient ward to working in the staff cafeteria. I was promoted, I might add, because I took too much time comforting and fussing with the small patients and couldn’t clean the entire ward in the allotted time. This, of course, suited me fine; better hours and better pay, what’s not to like? So though Annette and I were co-workers, we never actually worked together.
During our year as roommates, we developed a warm friendship that lasted for years. Together we explored Basel and all that it had to offer. She introduced me to dancing in night clubs, something I had not been allowed to do at home, and under Annette’s tutelage, this high school wall flower blossomed. We toured Switzerland together on Annette’s Vespa motor scooter and stayed in youth hostels along the way. We were always doing something, never a dull moment. It was a great year!
After we returned to Denmark, we continued to hang out together whenever I wasn’t working abroad. When I moved to the US, we remained in touch via letters, and I visited her whenever I went back home for a visit. She visited me once, a year after I moved to Minneapolis, but eventually we lost touch. A few months ago Annette found me on Facebook, and it has been wonderful catching up with my old friend.
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One nice perk in working with my husband is that we get to do really funny dances together in the elevator when we are the only passengers.
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No security cameras there, I assume!
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I sure hope not!
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Morning all. Just back from our annual “traditional” vacation. Haven’t quite caught up yet but love this post. Thanks, Jim! I have many friends that I’ve met on the job, but I’ll just stick with one.
Twenty-seven years ago, I was part of a start-up company and for almost 2 years, there were just two of us in the our little operations department, me and my boss. Then in August, my boss added a “manager of loss prevention”, a man named Alan. I couldn’t stand him. I admit it right up front that part of the reason I didn’t like him was that my little cocoon of two was not ruptured. But he was a loss prevention guy and within the first few days on the job he had designed four or five forms that each and every story was now going to have to deal with. And he kinda strutted.
His family was still in Milwaukee while his house was being built up in Coon Rapids (where he was originally from) and he was staying at his mother’s house in the interim. In October, I was planning my annual Leaf Pile (we get together, make a big pile of leaves, jump in and then go back and have a great pot luck) and I was feeling a little sorry for him, separated from his family during a pretty time of year. So after struggling with the decision for several days, I invited him. He showed up and really threw himself into the fun (literally) – it allowed me to see a whole different side of him and made me realize that I had been unfair. In the following two years, I really came to appreciate him; on the job he is fair, organized, forward-thinking and compassionate.
Fast forward 25 years…. teenager and I are now part of his family. His wife, Julie is a wonderful woman and I knew his folks, know his siblings. We spend every Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve with them, as well as various other holidays. I saw his girls grow up, went to their recitals, confirmations, graduations. Made wedding cakes for their receptions and have now welcomed grand-daughters to the family. I love them all dearly and it’s made me really, really glad that I overcame my initial (unfair) feelings and invited him to that Leaf Pile!
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Love your story, VS.
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I owe a big thank you to Dale for coming up with such a good question to use with my story.
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Thanks, Jim, for a virtual tour of Hormel and for kicking off a great round of stories!
In California in 1972 (and I assume still) Kindergarten teachers are hired as full time to 1) be the head teacher for either the morning or afternoon class, and 2) be the teacher’s aide in the other. So we were team teaching, and I got lucky my first term (I came on mid-year because a teacher kind of flipped out and “never made it back from Christmas vacation.”) Cathy Carr was my age, but had a couple of years under her belt, and had a relaxed but controlled relationship with her class. I learned just from seeing her in action, adopted some of her strategies, learned new art projects, etc. I’m sure it was reciprocal – I knew tons of songs and finger plays, loved kids literature and would bring in boatloads of books from the town’s library next door. We became friends, went to each other’s houses for tea (she turned me on to things like Lapsang Souchong) and dinner. I grieved her when she and her husband left that summer to crew on a boat headed to Australia! We kept in touch for years, but eventually lost contact. In retrospect, if she’d stayed, I’d probably have lasted much longer teaching than I did.
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Jim, your co-workers hiding on the job reminded me of someone from my U of Chi past, Lou LaRue. A fascinating man in many many ways, who taught me much about race relations and to not judge the surface of people. Lou was from New Orleans who for the first few months I worked with him in the field house was the embodiment of the lazy, jiving, “yahssuhin,'” stepandfetchit African-American. Lou was known to have several hiding/sleeping places around the field house, but he did manage to complete all his assigned janitorial duties and very well. Thus his bosses ignored his sleeping on the job, in no small measure because of that practiced shuffling charm, and they never expanded his duties as a result.
Then he let me know him. He actually worked three jobs including owning two taxis with two friends. His wife worked as a supervisor in a nursing home. They had five adult children, all college graduates or in college, with one in medical school. One wanted to be a El driver; so he got his degree and then drove the El. He could shift between two oral voices, the stepadnfetchit one and about as standard a Midwest accent as you could want, which once he showed himself to me he always spoke to me alone. It was fun to watch him switch in an instant back into the first voice when anyone else approached, along, of course, with a change in his body language. He greeted me every day with “How, yahall adoin’, Boikie.” (And he really meant that question.) But when we were alone I was always “Clyde.” He invited me to his house for Thanksgiving, and oh, I wish I had gone. But I had committed elsewhere.
He told me is hiding places, just in case his wife called, he said.
He had so many stories to tell me about a childhood and life so different from mine. He was sort of an outcast in his family because he was very dark in a family of very light-skinned people.
When I left school, he was ready to sell off, retire, and go live gracefully with his wife, the place to be determined. I hope it all worked that way.
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Very interesting, Clyde. It is great when people from back grounds that are different from ours are willing to tell us their stories.
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Great story, Clyde. I wonder how many people we miss because we think we “know” who they are.
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late, but hearty thanks to Jim for a great story about his days at Hormel. 27 years ago, for a short (and very angst-ridden) time i was the foodservice director in a little hospital in Blacksburg, Virginia. Miss Booth (“Booty”) was the morning supervisor. often my phone would ring at 4:30 a.m. and it would be Miss Booth reporting that someone called in sick, or someone quit on the spot, or we were out of juice. but i’ve never, ever been awakened so pleasantly. i’d say groggily “hello?” and i’d hear “Hello, Darlin, this is Booty.'” on the other end of the line. such a dear heart.
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I can relate to the angst-ridden part of that message, not the pleasant voice on the phone. While director of administration at the school where I worked, if the cook didn’t show up in the morning, yours truly was cook for the day, we didn’t have anyone else who could do the job. That’s why I remember very clearly where I was on on the morning of 9/11. The cook had been partying the night before, and was too hung over to make it to work, so there I was serving waffles and sausages while the World Trade Center crumbled.
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It seems there is a great store house of interesting stories related to the people that we have worked with and also the work. I’m certainly enjoying all the stories that have been shared today.
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