A Bottle Crime

This is a story about factory work and a bottle incident.

A Bottle Crime

Glass and concrete met unexpectedly, shattering the usually perceived mundane calm of the early day hours, as one less bottle to be boxed exploded on the floor. Ordinary days were ordained by management to be peaceful and orderly. This was not the case or part of their design. The higher ups in the factory risk management department will be up in arms over this incident.

The workers assembled at their assigned stations, at attention, on the production line, promptly at 8:00 am, not just as workers but as suspects. No one could say for sure from where or from whom, the bottle was hurled into the air. It now has become a mystery, shattered evidence, the notorious projectile question of the day.

Why was it thrown in the first place? Who would commit such an insidious infraction? What kind of Neanderthal would do damage to company property. Bottles cost money you know.

This distraction and disruption caused unease among the workers, who were already launched into action performing as the disillusioned functionaries they were trained to be. They were by this time certainly disgruntled by the patterns of governing practices issued, implemented, forced on them by their superiors. There were questions about wages and working conditions that did not tickle them, that left them less than thrilled. The cold dark sterile building dampened their spirits as well.

On the otherwise boring morning, the broken glass livened things up. It all happened so quickly.

Fat Max, one of the bosses, came down from up above almost instantly after the smashing sound occurred. He waddled red faced in the direction of the young girls on the floor. In a heavy voice and much more than that, his matching weight carried him like hollowed thunder loudly on the concrete as he released his fury; “Who broke the bottle?” “Who made this mess?” “Confess you wenches!” The women simply shrugged their shoulders almost in unison and cast their eyes down at the moving belt of bottles passing by them in shear mechanical indifference.

The portly man shouted even louder, “This will come out of each and every one of your hides and your wages!” “What do you think about that?” The rhetorical question hung out there like a raw nerve pinched, never to be answered... not in this life time… not by these ladies... No one spoke.

The truth is, it happened in the blink of an eye. Bottle goes up. Bottle comes down. Crash! The guilty party remained anonymous.

Everyone suspected Midge. She was the only old and ugly person in the crew. (There was no smile to speak of either.) The simple truth is, she had a nasty disposition and an unpleasant edge about her, therefore she must be guilty. The bosses always wrote here up for wearing leather outfits and working in army boots. Everyone knows there is no place for fat and ugly people in business. If you are born or hatched at birth as a manager as we suspect in the case of Max, than it is a different story.

White aprons and green paper hats with bold red letters etched on them; BILLS BOTTLING CO. were required to be worn at all times. Both were fire-able offenses if you did not comply.

Black shirts, dress shoes and dress pants had be worn underneath the authorized uniform. Midge with her leather jacket and sporting her army boots every day was asking to be fired.

Where is the fun in firing someone? You can only do it once. It was better to keep her around.

They kept her on to torment her and torture us with her unwanted company. In any event it was hard to get and keep good help at low wages.

It could be that the tedium of the work schedule, coupled with the dull working conditions, not to mention the chilling environment of the plant got to the psyche of the person involved in the incident. We can only speculate. After all, the job is as simple as can be. We take cleaned empty bottles off the line belt and put them in boxes. After that we take the boxes to a loading dock and place them in trucks. We do not know who processes or makes the bottles or boxes. We are in the dark as to where they go after we load them.

Keeping ourselves awake for 8 hours is the real job. No one really talks on the line. It is prohibited. We put in our time as required like a prison sentence served and punch out at 5:00 pm without a word.

Tomorrow is another day. What can we expect next? Perhaps someone will be brave enough to break up the monotony by cutting up one of the boxes. That would really send the higher ups through the roof.

I wonder how much an empty bottle or a box cost?… The bosses hate us but more importantly, they hate to pay us. All respect was lost when we, the workers, decided to work for practically nothing. The rent is coming due. Someone has to pay it. I can tell you one thing for certain. The big bosses have zero tolerance. I foresee a prosecution and execution forthcoming in someones immediate future… if not sooner. Look out Midge. They are gunning for you and the rest of us too. Bottle breaking bandits can not and will not be tolerated, will not go unpunished. Mark my words. This is not the end of this story. There is a formal investigation under way right now according to reliable sources. Bills Bottling must be avenged. People who abuse bottles, ugly or not must learn the wrath of justice.

Author's Note

If you enjoy silly things you will enjoy this.