The Kid

It had been 319 days since the last reportable accident at Jubilee Foods. Mitch eyed the safety scoreboard with pride as he anticipated receiving his “Safety Star” bonus check. In less than fifty days, his crew would reach the one-year mark with 0 accidents, the first time in twenty-six years. He was confident in their chances, having threatened Saturday shifts for anyone who even came close to committing a safety violation. Mitch reinforced his strict safety protocols at every staff meeting, accompanied by less than gentle pressure to not report minor safety incidents. His approach was working and he was already eyeing the fishing boat he would buy with his bonus.

Before Mitch became manager, Jubilee averaged two incidents a month, and headquarters threatened to dock pay if their safety record didn’t improve. Never mind that they were often short-staffed due to the low wages and aging labor pool in Kelsington, Missouri, population 19,486. Despite its small size, the town was situated directly off the interstate, at the intersection of two major highways, making it easy for the long haulers to load up and hit the road.

Mitch had just arrived on the warehouse floor when he noticed an unfamiliar face operating his brand-new, state-of-the-art forklift. He had made it abundantly clear that no one was to even look at it until he had personally road-tested it, which he was looking forward to doing that afternoon. To make things worse, Mitch noticed this guy was wearing ear buds (not the company required earmuffs), with his naked head displaying hair that fell to his shoulders.

This first glance revealed three safety violations, and this kid seemed so into whatever he was listening to that he didn’t notice Mitch flailing his arms, giving him the “cut” gesture. Against his better judgement, Mitch placed himself in front of the moving forklift, waving his hands wildly until the kid saw him and turned off the machine. Mitch gestured for him to get out of the cab, trying to stay calm to avoid the heart attack that would sabotage his safety record.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mitch asked the kid.

“Um, hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tanner,” he answered with a quick wave. Mitch noticed the kid wasn’t wearing safety gloves. Violation number four.

“Yeah, good to meet you. Who are you, and how are you here? I do all the hiring around here and we’ve never met,” Mitch chastised.

“Oh, I guess my dad didn’t tell you I was starting today.”

“Your dad? Who’s your dad?”

“Orson. Orson Gallagher, CEO of Specialty Foods International. You know, from corporate headquarters,” Tanner explained.

Mitch swallowed, caught off guard that the CEO of the entire company would send his kid to their two-stoplight town. And then, it came to him. Orson was trying to unload this loser to ruin Mitch’s safety record! All so they could save a lousy fifteen grand. Rational thinking returned, and Mitch came to the more likely conclusion that the guy was probably just trying to teach his bratty son a lesson. No one moved to Kelsington by choice.

“I don’t care whose kid you are; no one operates my forklift until I’ve performed the safety check. Now get your ass out of the cab and let me show you how we do things around here.” Mitch said gruffly.

To his dismay, Tanner remained in the cab, seeming to snicker before responding, “Yeah, my dad told me about you. He said you’re a real tight ass who won’t let me get away with anything. Well, good luck with that. My dad hasn’t been able to keep me in line, so I don’t see how some warehouse manager is going to be able to tell me what to do. No offense. Sir.”

Undeterred, Mitch repeated himself, “Get your ass down here. NOW. Son.”

Despite this kid’s bravado, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. If his dad really cared about him, wouldn’t he have given him a cush job in one of his fancy corporate offices instead of dumping him in a warehouse, six hours from home?

Mitch’s sympathy quickly dissipated when Tanner said, “Listen, bro. I’ll do the job, but I’m doing it my way, and my dad already knows I’m not cutting my hair. Full stop.”

It wasn’t that Mitch wouldn’t enjoy putting the screws to this spoiled punk—he’d cut the kid’s hair himself if he had to. What concerned him was the high probability that Tanner was an obstacle to his long overdue bonus. And that would be intolerable, which meant Tanner was now his sworn enemy. It was clear that Tanner could care less about this job or some safety award, but he soon would. Mitch would make sure of that.

***

The one thing Tanner had going for him was common sense, beneath his entitled attitude. He may not have always been freshly showered and was often hungover, but he showed up, ready to work, which perplexed Mitch to no end. He wasn’t sure where Tanner’s skills or work ethic had come from, but he was cautiously optimistic that this kid wouldn’t screw everything up, after all.

All wasn’t perfect, though, as Tanner willfully kept his promise not to cut his hair; his concession was to pull it back in a low ponytail underneath his baseball cap—the one Mitch repeatedly reminded him didn’t qualify as a hard hat. Baby steps, Mitch told himself, trying to quell his ever-present anxiety that something bad was around the corner. He couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to relax, unable to ignore his guilt that there was something he should have done differently. Now, he deluded himself with the notion that he had any control over the future.

For a few weeks, Mitch and the kid peacefully coexisted by mostly staying out of each other’s way. Mitch held his tongue far more often than he would have liked, if for no other reason than he was afraid the kid might do the exact opposite of whatever he told him.

The first close call happened when Tanner showed up late for work, again. He was running, rushing to scan his badge within the five-minute grace period. He failed to notice the “Slippery When Wet” sign as he lunged himself toward the scanner, losing his footing and heaving straight into its metal edge. Tanner’s bottom lip made contact, but luckily his tooth didn’t poke through his lip. Crisis averted, no incident report required. Mitch wanted to file a harassment report for having to listen to Tanner’s whining for the rest of the day.

Mitch wondered if Tanner would tell his dad, or more importantly, if Orson even cared. He thought about offering to send the kid home early but didn’t want to give him the wrong message. Tanner needed boundaries.

Even as Mitch tried to enforce structure, Tanner remained a liability. The next near miss happened when Tanner forgot to pull his hair back (or just didn’t want to) and almost got it caught in the conveyor belt. Luckily the shift lead saw what was about to happen and activated the emergency shut-off button, resulting in a temporary warehouse shutdown. If it had lasted any longer than the four minutes it took to power back up, Mitch would have had to file a safety report. He finished his bottle of Pepto Bismol that day.

Mitch’s blood pressure spiked with each of these incidents, and he wasn’t sure if it was fear of losing his safety bonus or if he was starting to genuinely worry about the kid getting hurt. He had to admit that Tanner was likeable, often bringing doughnuts for the crew, and to his utter shock, coffee for Mitch. He was friendly to everyone and seemed to have shed some of his ego, to the point that Mitch nearly forgot who Tanner’s father was. He was starting to realize that the kid reminded him of his own son, who would have been a few years older than Tanner.

Despite his reluctant fondness for the kid, he nearly fired him when he heard Tanner had gotten his foot stuck in the trash compactor. He had been stomping on the trash, something Mitch had repeatedly told him was the job of the compactor, when his foot got wedged between two boxes and he couldn’t squeeze it out. The machine wasn’t even on and Mitch would have missed the whole thing if it weren’t for one of Tanner’s shift mates snickering and calling out, “Tanner, you’re such a jackass!”

When Tanner finally worked himself free, Mitch saw that the kid was wearing teal green vans, which was in direct violation of Jubilee’s steel toe reinforced footwear policy. Violation close to 25 by now, Mitch had been afraid to keep count. The kid looked like he was about to die of embarrassment, so Mitch decided that was punishment enough.

***

The tightness in Mitch’s chest had been gradually lessening. He was two days away from the one year with no accidents mark, and by God’s grace, his bonus check would be in his hand in less than a week’s time. Now that things seemed to be working out, he had some regret for how tough he had been on the kid. Despite his earlier carelessness, Tanner had stepped up and become one of Jubilee’s better employees. Not best by any means, but far better than Mitch ever would have expected.

And then, the reminder of why he wasn’t the best employee: Mitch saw Tanner checking his phone, his back to the conveyor belt full of boxes that had stopped moving, the belt overloaded and now jammed.

“Tanner! Heads up. No phones on the floor. That is safety 101,” Mitch admonished.

“Sorry. I was just checking something, won’t happen again.”

“Checking something? What is more important than filling boxes that were supposed to be sealed up an hour ago?”

“Um, nothing, Sir. It was just, kind of—”

“Kind of what?” He couldn’t believe this kid, trying to justify himself.

“I don’t know. I mean, I was checking to see if I missed a call from my dad.”

Was he supposed to make an exception in case this kid’s CEO daddy called? Tanner hadn’t mentioned his dad once, not since his first day when he made the mistake of outing himself as some charity hire.

At a loss for anything else to say, Mitch offered, “Alright, don’t let it happen again.”

Tanner put his phone away and proceeded to work faster than Mitch had ever seen him. He labored through lunch and didn’t stop until every single shipment had been prepped.

At the end of shift, Mitch heard his crew talking about heading over for drinks at the Cloverleaf. When he looked over, they offered him what he was sure was a pity invite; he played it off that he was busy, needing to take care of paperwork before shutting down for the night. He wished he wasn’t that guy, the one he knew everyone called “The Fun Police.” But he had a job to do, and that was more important to him than winning any popularity contest. He told himself he was just as happy to go home to his dog Mildred while they watched TV together until Mitch fell asleep on the couch.

Just as Tanner was almost out the door, he stopped by Mitch’s office. Mitch braced himself for some heinous violation he would have to report.

“Hey Boss, wanna come out with us? We’re getting drinks at the Cloverleaf tonight. We’re kind of celebrating…it’s my birthday today,” Tanner offered a tentative grin.

Mitch remembered the last birthday his son celebrated, wishing now, more than anything, that he hadn't chosen work over his son's party.

He paused, “Sure kid, I’ll buy you a drink. I’ll meet you over there in a few.”

“Cool. I mean thanks.”

“Oh, and Tanner? You did good today.”

Mitch smiled, knowing it had been too long since he had enjoyed the company of anyone besides Mildred. He turned off the lights and hesitated as he stood in front of the safety scoreboard. Two more days until his bonus.

He thought about how his life would change once the bonus check was in his hands. The trips he had imagined, the new car he could put a down payment on, his old deck he could replace. And then, with unexpected clarity, he knew his life wouldn’t change. He would still be the same old Mitch, the guy who worried about everything that could go wrong while everyone else was out having fun. Since when did he become that guy? He knew exactly when it happened; he also knew he could no longer hide behind his fear. It was time to join the rest of the world, accidents and all.

Before he realized what he was about to do, he walked over and unplugged the sign that had been his lifeline for the past year. He waited a few minutes and plugged it back in. He sighed with relief, the weight off his shoulders. The sign had reset itself, now displaying “0 days since last reportable accident.” Maybe next year.