The chaindrives and roller races carried plastic wrapped baloney at high speeds wherein I struggled to keep up and not be killed by becoming trapped somehow in all the chromed or rubbed shinny metal that moved the baloney at high speed making a real racket.
I was inside all the trouble.
Outside where all the Chinese who knew what was going on and were trying to help me.
Still I couldn’t believe it. There was so much Baloney. It burst from rips in the not yet sliced plastic. This was too long. The Baloney ought to have been sliced already. But it wasn’t and I was dancing stupidly worried inside the mechanisms of the factory blinded by the noise.
One day in a marriage you need to learn that some conflicts between you and your partner will never be resolved. I don’t know how you teach this other than to say it.
I fear I was inside the mechanism to adjust it. I was supposed to get it to cut and twist tie the sections of plastic encased advertised and dated Baloney, but didn’t know what I was doing.
I could not do a good job. Baloney was bursting from its unseamed yet casing dirty pink gray falling to the floor to be wasted and every face reflecting worry as if it were a fuel spill.
I feared to touch anything and demanded company that was afraid of the baloney squirming on the floor that might sweep on away going in or out of the loop of the badly designed mechanism.
Yes that was the problem. I intended to make a report but was caught up in the action. I was afraid and so was everyone else Chinese or me, of the baloney.
Something had to be done.