Did That Freezer Just Moo At Me?

I’m working on my freelance invoice so the paper will, like, pay me and stuff, but I had to take a time-out to tell you guys about what I’ve done so far this morning. As a point of possible interest, it is currently 11:30 AM on the dot.

I woke up at 8:30, got dressed, tamed my hair, put on the least amount of make-up necessary to make me look human and headed out to interview for a temp job at a local plant.

Here’s the thing: I had no idea what this plant manufactured, but I assumed it was something like machine parts or cabinets or something along those lines. The only thing I was told when the lady from the temp agency called me yesterday afternoon was that I would be needed to help re-write their safety manual.

So I get there, check in with the office and meet Dan and Amy, the safety managers. They give me a brief run-down of the position and then Amy takes me to a large closet and hands me a long, white coat, a hard hat, a hairnet, some ear plugs, and knee-high, steel-toe rubber Wellington boots. After putting all of these things on, we head out for a tour of the plant.

Prior to actually taking the tour, I figured out that I must have been wrong about the place manufacturing non-organic materials. As soon as she handed me a hairnet, I thought to myself, Okay, so they do something with food.

So Amy pushes her way through some heavy doors and we head on into a loading dock. She starts explaining that the building is about one and a half miles around, that it will take me a while to get used to it, and that I shouldn’t walk through the big gaping holes in the wall, as those are for forklifts (no shit). Then she turns to me and says, “Come on, I’ll take you to the kill floor.”

Excuse me… The what?

She pushes her way through some more heavy doors, we head down several dark, labyrinthine hallways, and then she stops in front of the only door I’ve seen so far that doesn’t have a window in it. She pulls out one of her ear plugs and motions for me to do the same.

“You don’t hear any mooing or anything, do you?”

“Uh… No.”

“Great,” she says, and opens the door. I am immediately punched in the face by the combined smells of blood and cow shit. I’m too scared to look into the room, so I wait until Amy says, “Oh, we must have missed them,” before sneaking a peek. The room is spotlessly clean, but the smell is still strong, and I can only imagine how intense it must be when there are actual animals hanging from the hooks in the ceiling.

Let me take a moment to make one thing clear: I was a vegetarian for two years, but it was never for ethical reasons. I simply went through a phase where I didn’t like the taste or texture of meat. Once I got over that, I slowly incorporated it back into meal plan, and even now it doesn’t form the crux of my diet.

But I do eat meat, and I’m not afraid of where it comes from. I just don’t necessarily want to see all of the things that make up the animal before I eat the animal. But then I don’t even like gardening, because I don’t want to see the veggies I’ll eventually eat covered in dirt and worm poop.

But I live in The Northwoods, so the fact that the cows I see in the fields during spring and summer suddenly disappear in fall and winter (and vice-versa) has ceased to surprise me. I would, however, have liked a little more warning before I walked into a meat processing plant looking for a job.

So Amy explains to me that I shouldn’t actually enter the kill floor when animals are being slaughtered because, “it can get pretty crazy in here.” And I think, What, like they have balloons and cake and play Pin The Tail On The Dead Cow Hanging From The Ceiling?!?

The rest of the tour was pretty much a visceral nightmare of sights, sounds, and, worst of all, smells. By the time we got back to the main office, I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I blurted out a quick “Yes,” when Dan asked if I could be there by 7:00 AM Monday morning to go through orientation.

And I do plan to show up. Because of what I’ll be doing, my hope is that I will not have to visit the actual plant more than once or twice. And when I do, I’ll arm myself with the knowledge that it’s one more experience worth having and writing about.

Also, what with my plans overthrow all the world’s governments in a possibly violent fashion and all, it couldn’t hurt to learn how to turn a cadaver into a pot roast.