In the course of working my way through school, I took many jobs I would rather forget. But none of these jobs was as dreadful as my jent-count: 2.0; mso-line-height-rule: exaob in an apple plant. The work was hard; the pay was poor; and, most of all, the working conditions were terrible.
First of all, the job made huge demands on my strength. For then hours a night, I took boxes that rolled down a metal track and piled them onto a truck. Each box contained twelve heavy bottles of apple juice. I once figured out that I was lifting an average of twelve tons of apple juice every night.
I would not have minded the difficulty of the work so much if the pay had not been so poor. I was paid the lowest wage of that time—two dollars an hour. Because of the low pay, I felt eager to get as much as possible. I usually worked twelve hours a night but did not take home much more than $ 100 a week.
But even more than the low pay, what made me unhappy was the working conditions. During work I was limited to two ten-minute breaks and an unpaid half hour for lunch. Most of my time was spent outside loading trucks with those heavy boxes in near-zero-deg>ree temperatures. The steel floors of the trucks were like ice, which made my feet feel like stone. And after the production line shut down at night and most people left, I had to spend two hours alone cleaning the floor.
I stayed on the job for five months, all the while hating the difficulty of the work, the poor money, and the conditions under which I worked. By the time I left, I was determined never to go back there again.