“I don’t care how rough things have been, I don’t pay you for your problems.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Ivory. I won’t let it happen again.” Adam said.
“You’re damn right you won’t. I’m docking you for a day’s pay since you didn’t bother showing up when you were told. You need to get down to the paint line and see about an issue they are having. It’s been shut down for five minutes and have to have it running again ASAP. Every second is money.”
“Yes sir.”
Adam slumped from his chair and left Mr. Ivory’s office overlooking the large production floor of Abaddon Manufacturing, the largest producer of retail displays and grocery store shelves in the tri-state area. Their executive board thought their motto “Holding America Up” was a clever play on words, highlighting the function of their products. From Adam’s perspective it was a moment of Freudian honesty, highlighting the company’s commitment to impede progress.
Adam galloped down the stairs and headed across the production floor. Giant machines pounded as they stamped metal sheets into parts of shelving units. After the parts were stamped they were then sent to the back of the factory where they would be hung on hooks on a cable that would send them through a booth where they were sprayed with a powder coat of paint before going into a 450° oven to be cured.
“Mr. Ivory said there was a problem on the paint line?” Adam asked a short balding man standing behind a podium staring at a clipboard. Jerry Gritts had been with Abaddon for 25 years. He originally started in the stamping department, but after an accident 12 years ago left him with only six fingers, the company moved him to a less hands-on position overseeing the paint line.
“Some of the parts fell in the oven and you need to go in there and get them.” Mr. Gritts barked.
“When will it be cool enough to go in?” Adam asked.
“It’s been down plenty enough to cool by now. We have 25,000 units to pack and ship by the end of the day. You need to get your ass in there so we can get this back up and running.”
Adam put on his gloves and made his way to the entrance of the oven. He mumbled under his breath about how need was relative. What Adam wanted was to be at the bluff where God promised to meet him.
The industrial oven stood towering over him, a long ginormous steel box with enough of an opening for the parts to enter. He could feel the intense heat coming from it ten yards away.
“Cooled down plenty for what? A pig roast?” Adam thought to himself as he placed his hand inside, only to quickly retract it. It was anything but cooled.
“Go on, git” Mr. Gritts yelled as he peaked around a corner. “The faster you go in the faster you come out.”
Adam stepped over the opening of the oven and climbed in. The inside was a long corridor. At the end of that corridor was an opening to the left where an even longer and wider corridor housed the heating elements the parts traveled past. The cable for the paint line zigzagged upwards back and forth, pivoting on pulleys attached to a column at the end of the largest corridor. The parts traveled along this course before making their way high in the air where they would then exit the oven from another opening at the top. When the line was running it would take a total of 35 minutes for a part to travel the entire course at a steady pace. At the very top of the oven Adam could see the part, a wide metal shelf, that had come unhooked and lodged into the pulleys beneath it, jamming the entire system.
Adam didn’t know how long he could last, the heat was already making him light headed. He grabbed the rung of the ladder running up the support column, but just as he stepped off the ground he immediately fell back down to it.
“Need help there buddy?” Nate said from above Adam. Nate pulled out a pair of glow sticks tied on strings and began dancing around, slinging the glow sticks around in swirling patterns.
“What is happening.” Adam asked.
“I think they call this hallucination.” Nate said while spinning around. “I might have some vapor rub around here somewhere. The eucalyptus makes you feel awesome.”
The inside of the oven flashed bright green, yellow, and blue as drum and bass techno version of Hank Williams Jr. bounced around the steel walls.
“What the fuck is happening?” Adam repeats.
“Well, when you get this low you need friends in low places. Don’t worry. Just relax and sniff.” Nate said while sticking a tube in Adam’s nose.
“You ok there buddy?” Jayce said, sitting on his feet next to Adam.
“What is…” Adam began, still confused.
“Mr. Gritts sent me to help you, and it looks like you passed out.” Jayce said.
“We don’t pay you to sleep on the job!” Mr. Gritts yelled through the entrance to the oven.
“That is if you pay me at all” Adam quipped under his breath as he sat up.
“Now you two get this line running or else stay in here so you can at least save your mommas a cremation bill.” Mr. Gritts yelled before disappearing from the entrance.
“I’ll climb up and grab the part and throw it down to you, ok?” Jayce said while giving Adam a hand off the ground.
“Man I hate that guy. I’m pretty sure he sees us as just parts.” Adam said, getting a head rush as he stood up.
Jayce whipped up the ladder and dislodged the shelf from the pulley. “Well, there’s no way this will be salvaged.” he said examining the crimp caused by the pulley, a three pronged fork bent along the center. Jayce tossed the shelf down landing with a crash at Adam’s feet. Adam imagined the amount of pressure needed to cause the three pronged forked crimp in the shelf as the cable for the paint line began moving again, signifying the ovens being turned back on.
“Come on, we need to get out of here. Looks like Mr. Gritts made good on his promise.” Adam said, grabbing the shelf as Joel hopped off the ladder.
When Adam and Jayce returned to podium they saw that Mr. Ivory was there talking with Mr. Gritts.
“We got it.” Jayce said.
“Just toss it in the scrap pile out back.” Mr. Ivory said after inspecting the crimp.
“I’ll take care of it. It’s on my way to the assembly department anyway.” Adam said.
“You won’t be going back to assembly. You’re going to be staying over here in the paint line and do whatever I tell you.” Mr. Gritts said with a grin.
Adam had been at Abaddon Manufacturing for about six months and already he had been moved around three times. He originally started in packing but as Winter came he was moved to the assembly department in a building with no heat. Now that Summer was approaching it only made sense that he would be moved to the paint line, which instead of air conditioning had an industrial oven the size of a two story house.
Work on the paint line was more tedious than it was difficult. All you had to do was take parts from crates that came from the warehouse and hang them on hooks as the line passed by. The difficulty was keeping up with the line, especially since some of the parts were extremely heavy and the line extremely fast.
The next 10 hours of Adam’s day was the same 15 second moment repeating over and
over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over.
Until it was finally over.
At least for today.