job part II
So when it poking puffed cheese snacks didn’t work out for me, I looked for work elsewhere. I applied with a company over in beautiful crime-free Irving that manufactures breast implants. The called me in for an interview and tour of the plant.
I met the plant manager at the entrance of a large, non-descript looking building with no windows. The lobby was plain and had a couple of green corn plants and maybe some tech mags, I can’t remember. The tour started by entering a long, wide hallway with large glass windows on either side looking into some really freaky high tech labs.
People in clumsy-but-sterile space suits were carefully assembling materials and using very fancy machines to pour liquid into membranes. The wide hall had turns along the way but always had windows looking into large labs where different phases of manufacture and assembly were happening. The space suits stopped at a certain point and ladies with hairnets and gloves appeared. Conveyor belts weaved through the space, slowly moving product through the labs. At the end of my tour, I was vaguely titillated at the prospect of wearing a space suit and I excitedly asked the man what my job would be. He smiled and said “Quality Control”.
Um, ok. So he takes me into another lab where cubicles were clustered in the center of the room with computers, papers, and random boobs acting as paperweights. He took me over to a hood and said as best as I can remember: “This will be your work station. A couple times an hour, you’ll pull an implant off the line after it’s been put into sterile packaging. You’ll first test the outer packaging using all this fancy stuff over here. Then you’ll take the implant and place it here in the hood. You hit this button and a platform will lower, slowing applying pressure to the implant until it bursts. You’ll record some deeply meaningful number and clean it all up before doing it again. And again. And again. By the way, you’ll work here from 11PM – 7AM.”
After the job description and the tour, I sortof smiled and “Wow. This is a lot to think about (not) and I’ll have to get back to you (not).”
I felt a little bewildered at turning down such lucrative, satisfying gigs twice in a row! Feeding grumbly tummies in Spain was one thing. Perpetuating the myth for people everywhere that big, fabulous boobs are mandatory was another. To convince not just men but women too that to imitate the size and shape of lactating breasts makes us more appealing was just too much. My training as a scientist and mathematician-ess was being wasted!
Maybe more tomorrow. It goes on and on folks. Have a great Saturday!
