Labor

Fresh out of high-school, I drove my old car to California to seek my fortune. Clearly, it was not going to be easy. I hired on with a temp agency and joined five men working on an assembly line. All that morning we filled bottles with an unknown black liquid and screwed on the caps. Our hands were stained with the stuff. My co-workers spoke no English, I spoke no Spanish, and the labels on the bottles were indecipherable. When at last we spotted the tiny skull and crossbones printed there, we shut off the machine and left.