Strawberry Dreams

I saw the ad in a local paper.  ‘Strawberry pickers needed, paid by the quart!’ the ad read and underneath was the address of a local strawberry farm only about a 10 minute drive from my house.  My father agreed to drive me there on Monday morning on his way to work and visions of a well-padded wallet prevailed.

I awoke with enthusiasm on Monday morning, beguiled with thoughts of easy money.  All I had to do was pick enough strawberries in two weeks and I’d have money to last me the whole summer! 

I arrived to the farm and where about two dozen teenagers waited for their baskets and designated rows for picking.  I was designated two rows and given eight one quart baskets.  The farmer told me I would be paid 50 cents a quart, the strawberries had to be ripe and I could eat as many strawberries as I wanted, but only from my two designated rows and no more!

I sat down in my first row and tried my best not to give into temptation.  At first I sat cross-legged, but could not move very easily down my row.  Then I tried to kneel in front of the bushes, but that proved to be very painful as I was wearing shorts instead of jeans like the more experienced pickers – and straw can actually give you small paper cuts!

My baskets were not filling up very quickly at all.  For a berry that has a growing season of two weeks, you would think that there would be more then one ripe berry per bush!  Worse still, my rows were near the raspberry bushes.  I knew why none of the other pickers wanted these rows when I heard the buzzing.  Apparently, wasps love raspberries and with my back to the raspberry bushes, I was in a potential war zone. 

If this wasn’t bad enough, I was about to meet the worst enemy to my future fortune.  I went to row number two with only one quart full to avoid the wasps when it happened.  I spotted the most delicious, ripe strawberry I have ever seen.  It was deep red and plump and juicy.  It was fate and I was no longer under my own control.  Although I wanted to place it in the basket and make a profit, I had to take a bite out of it and it was heaven!

From that moment, for every strawberry I placed in my basket, I ate two, maybe three berries.  Although ripe strawberries were scarce, I could not stop myself from popping them in my mouth.  I was like a man possessed. 

Three hours later, I brought my eight filled quarts and my overstuffed belly to the farmer. He looked at my sad offering and said with a frown, “Three hours and only 8 quarts?  Here is $4 for the 8 quarts and another $2 if you promise to go now and don’t come back!”  I graciously accepted the money and made my way home, were I soon realized what too much of a good thing really meant!