I worked at the mill a while before my father’s mini-fridge accident. Since then, and since the trial, we’ve been living off the settlement, which is nothing to sneeze at, but it won’t be enough for us to live on for the rest of our lives.
Still, the mill had its moments. A lot of the guys from school went to work there, and it was hard work, boring too. But it could really clear your mind. I liked the smoke breaks we got and the coffee breaks and the Glazed Chocolate Cruller Mondays. If you put your change in the vending machine and then hit it with your hip just so as your selection was being released, you might be able to score two yodels at a time.
I knew things like that from working there so long. My dad used to work at the mill too, but he never told me about the yodel/hip trick. I found that out on my own.
An important thing my father taught me: don’t bring the mini-fridge in with you when you go to use the eye wash machine. Looking back on it, I guess it seems like common sense. But there wasn’t any warning on either appliance. And the first couple times Dad did it, nothing happened.
In the end, we’re both glad he got zapped. The mill was okay, but it was wearing on us both. Now we have all the time in the world to drink vodka lemonades and brush up on our Yahtzee. Sometimes, I guess, it can be better not to know any better.
by DEBORAH SCHWARTZ