Jobs # 9 (Farm to Market)

Author’s Note: I knew I’d slip up at some point when trying to remember which jobs I was employed at and when accurately. Here is my first and hopefully only correction in this series. Time to revisit this forgotten job from the Summer of ‘09!

After leaving the Habitat job, and before my dark misstep into the seedy underbelly of Kansas City, I worked in a bakery. It was summer, and my job was to place loaf after loaf of bread into an industrial bread slicer, stack those loaves on a table until the table was complete, and then bag them. If you were lucky, you had a bagger working, so the process never had to stop.

Once the loaves were bagged and tied, they were loaded onto pallets that were stacked in the hallway for delivery. Our shifts were typically 8 PM to 3 AM or so. I was lucky enough to have three great friends who would work there with me, so I wasn’t completely bored out of my mind.

We had a “cool” manager named Scott, who we liked to give a hard time. Scott was in his early 40s at the time, and seemed like he had worked at at least three different Foot Lockers before making his way to night manager at this bakery. He seemed to be quite fond of mountain bikes, and he actually was.

When my friends were working, I enjoyed their jobs. We’d go out after a tough shift, and parties were at full tilt. We’d show up with leftover challah bread and cinnamon toast. People loved it.

When my friends weren’t working, it was a much more subdued environment. The buzzing of the ovens and fans lulled you into a din of complacency that no amount of classic rock radio could drown out. Sorry, Mr. Seger, the Fire Down Below was dim on these nights. I learned to enjoy the solitude, though. I would work many night shifts myself, doing the work of at least two other people.

On those more lonely nights, when there were no parties and no one was awake, I’d sometimes drive around to try and salvage the night. To shake off the stagnant wet crumbs on my shirt and stick my hand out the window, let the wind rip the yeast from beneath my nails.

I’d drive down 71 to Cliff Drive and admire the city. I never knew I’d want to live here, in fact I had always wanted to get out, but it was around this time that I fell back in love with Kansas City. I figured I could do just as well here as anywhere else. I decided to dig by heels down and settle in. The ride was just getting started.