Sandy Supposes....

Dream Job?

PROMPT: Describe your first day at your dream job as a trash collector.

         In the semi-darkness, I yawn and rub my eyes. I expected the sun to be greeting me at five - thirty in the morning; this is my first surprise. My second is that I' m not the only person sipping a coffee , trying to shake the fog of sleep. Huh, this town knows many early risers.          

The slap to my shoulder spills my liquid breakfast. "Time to get movin' newbie. There's garbage to re-locate." Tossing my paper cup into the rear of the truck, I climb aboard. Yes! I'd dreamed of this day. True, I was riding shot-gun, but tomorrow I anticipated driving.

          Rumbling to our first pick-up, I flexed my sweating palms. The moment I heard the screech of the brakes, I was out the door in a leap meant to land me on the curb. Splat! Shaking my ringing head to the guffaws of my supervisor, I notice my dangling shoe lace. Had I forgotten to tie my new steel - toed boots? "Come on, that garbage ain't gettin' any sweeter." In reply, I hoist the first bulging bag I see. In one large arc, reeking refuse rains down on me. My first lesson: plastic is delicate. My second lesson: egg shells, dried tea bags, and coffee grounds are not easy to wrestle back into a torn scrap of plastic.

         After a few attempts, and messy misses, I found my rhythm. Grunting seemed to help. I especially enjoyed the clatter of the metal bins.