Chicken Farm
Just south of Hillcrest High School in Midvale, Utah, was a large building that was maybe four stories high. I had never even wondered what it was; it and a house and some outbuildings had just always been there. One day Dad came home and said he had been hired to work there on weekends. It was a church chicken farm that produced eggs for the welfare system. A man and his family lived in the house and he had always worked seven days a week. It had been decided he should have weekends off.
It wasn't uncommon for Dad to invite Kelvin and me to work with him so we could earn some money and this was one of those jobs. It wasn't hard, but the air was difficult to breathe and I don't know how Dad could stand it. We would ride a freight elevator up to the top floor and work our way down. The elevator opened in to a hall that divided the building in half. This hall had a door on each side.
Dad would go through the door into where the chickens were housed and there would be hundreds in there, walking around free. He gathered any eggs that were on the floor. The dust in there must have been dangerous and nearly impossible to breathe, but I don't remember him complaining. The hall was lined on each side with numerous tiny doors that opened to reveal nests that the hens would use. My job was gather the eggs from those nests. Frequently the hens would be on the nest and occasionally I was pecked.
We would then wash the eggs and pack them. Cracked eggs and those that were really large (probably containing 2 yolks) were set aside. They would not be sent to the welfare system. More than once I heard the manager tell Dad he could take these eggs home that were not going to be used.
Then one day as we were getting ready to leave the manager approached Dad and accused him of stealing eggs. He denied ever telling Dad to take broken eggs or over-sized ones. I knew the truth, and I have no idea what was going on in that man's mind, but Dad lost the job. It had to be one of the most humiliating experiences of his life and one of the most confusing, because he had done nothing wrong.
It wasn't uncommon for Dad to invite Kelvin and me to work with him so we could earn some money and this was one of those jobs. It wasn't hard, but the air was difficult to breathe and I don't know how Dad could stand it. We would ride a freight elevator up to the top floor and work our way down. The elevator opened in to a hall that divided the building in half. This hall had a door on each side.
Dad would go through the door into where the chickens were housed and there would be hundreds in there, walking around free. He gathered any eggs that were on the floor. The dust in there must have been dangerous and nearly impossible to breathe, but I don't remember him complaining. The hall was lined on each side with numerous tiny doors that opened to reveal nests that the hens would use. My job was gather the eggs from those nests. Frequently the hens would be on the nest and occasionally I was pecked.
We would then wash the eggs and pack them. Cracked eggs and those that were really large (probably containing 2 yolks) were set aside. They would not be sent to the welfare system. More than once I heard the manager tell Dad he could take these eggs home that were not going to be used.
Then one day as we were getting ready to leave the manager approached Dad and accused him of stealing eggs. He denied ever telling Dad to take broken eggs or over-sized ones. I knew the truth, and I have no idea what was going on in that man's mind, but Dad lost the job. It had to be one of the most humiliating experiences of his life and one of the most confusing, because he had done nothing wrong.
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