During my teenage years, I had many summer jobs, some of which required extensive knowledge of a broom. Wearing a hard hat, safety glasses, and steel-toed boots, I was fortunate enough to land the posh job of sweeping the floors of a 40,000-square-foot (approx.) factory, Combustion Engineering, in Enterprise, KS. They specialized in designing and producing heavy machinery for industrial, agricultural, and mining applications. After graduating from high school, I brushed up on my broom skills even further as a part-time janitor at Garfield Elementary School while studying to become a graphic designer.
Other distinguished jobs included drying dishes at the 80-year-old, famous Lena’s restaurant, where General Ike and, later, President Ike Eisenhower frequently ate. It was here that I had the dreadful experience of being indirectly sprayed by a skunk. As fate would have it, a poor, unsuspecting skunk wandered into Lena’s parking lot. If I remember correctly, Lena herself had Walter, the dishwasher, shoot the little stinker before any customers showed up. But the courageous skunk wasn’t going down without a fight and shot back right before going to skunk paradise. I love animals and I felt bad for the smelly little guy who was minding his own business but just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Life can really stink sometimes, lol!
But he got his final revenge. Foolishly, I was just a tad too close and paid the price. To me, the intense odor was similar to burning tires, almost suffocating. Of course, I immediately high-tailed it home and jumped in the bathtub, which helped subdue the smell but not entirely. It took several more baths over several days to finally extinguish the overpowering, pungent smell. Side note: As you probably know nowadays that pungent skunk smell could be mistaken for weed. It doesn't have the same aroma like it used to. You know, when it smelled kinda good like burning hay or leaves.
I also worked for an excavating company, where I couldn’t seem to do anything right, and my grumpy boss constantly hollered and cursed at me. There was also the farmer, where I practically died of heat stroke in the blistering summer heat baling hay and pulling evergreen trees out of his pasture; an ice-dispensing company, where I was always freezing; and an alfalfa mill, where I worked long hours and drove a massive, heavy-duty alfalfa cutter.
I also had another job-related experience involving my olfactory receptors. One summer, I was looking for a job that would pay enough to keep gas in my car and cover other necessities, like beer!
I applied at a tannery in Solomon, Kansas, on Highway 40. Solomon is a tiny town with a population of about 900, about 9 miles west of Abilene. If I remember correctly, it was simply known as The Hide House, and they hired me on the spot. They recognized talent when they saw it. What an amazing place! It was a large, warehouse-like building painted a cheerful light blue, situated next to the railroad tracks on the east side of town. While giving me the grand tour, the thoughtful interviewer asked me if I could handle the smell, which was absolutely disgusting, and I answered, “Who, me? Oh yeah, I can handle it!” Workers stood next to rows and rows of stacked cattle hides, flipping them over and scraping a gooey, white substance off them. It looked gross, but I thought for the sake of beer money, I could contend with it. So, I decided to accept this prestigious job and was scheduled to begin the following Monday. Mom and Dad would be so proud of their son scraping white stuff off cowhides. What an achievement! However, when I told them, I didn't sense much enthusiasm.
Monday morning came, and I was off to Solomon for my first exciting day of tanning cowhides. What a thrill and honor.
One of the workers showed me the ropes: Turn over the hide, scrape off the white, slimy fat, and throw a generous amount of salt on it. That sounds easy enough! I stepped up close to the stack of hides and flipped my first one over; a nauseating stench of rotting flesh enveloped me, and there were thousands, if not millions, of maggots squirming in the white fat.
That's when I realized this may be the job I’ve been looking for all my life!
One thoughtful colleague brought me up to speed on maggots, explaining that there are several different types. The most intriguing is the amazing jumping maggot, even though it doesn't have legs. What will they think of next?
I couldn't believe my eyes at lunchtime. Most of my esteemed colleagues were eating their sandwiches among the squirming maggots, and the fresh stench of rotting flesh hung in the air, caused by the recently turned-over hides. You couldn't ask for a better dining ambiance.
Since it was noon, I thought it was the perfect time to take a breather from my exciting new occupation. I told my devoted colleagues I was going out to grab a bite. In reality, I was being just a tad dishonest and did something I probably wouldn't regret. That’s right, I left them high and dry, never to return! This was the only time I ever walked off a job. This is where I decided to draw the line. Maggots and rotting cow hides were a little too glamorous for me. So I went home and took a long, hot shower to wash away the unforgettable fragrance of the Solomon Hide House. ❦
No worries!
I’ve got a PhD in Broomology.