During the summer between high school and college, I worked in the cafeteria at Fisherbody. I wasn’t old enough to work in the factory but I was old enough to work in the cafeteria.

Work in the cafeteria was different to say the least. There was a series of jobs that you could move up into as people left for factory jobs. New people started work by washing pots and pans but every one had a coffee route.

A coffee route was a twice a day event. Mid morning and mid afternoon, everyone took their coffee wagon on a run which consisted of 8 to 10 stops along the assembly line. Each stop lasted for a set amount of time as the line would be shut down for coffee break.

The coffee wagon consisted of a 2′ x 3′ stainless steel cart with two shelves. The top shelf held a 20 gallon coffee urn on the front of the cart along with an assortment of sandwiches and donuts while the bottom shelf was more of a tub which held ice and an assortment juice and milk.

Now, I had worked my way up through the ranks from pots and pan to dishes to coffee carts. Coffee carts meant that I was the one who made the coffee and loaded all the carts with coffee, juice, milk, sandwiches and donuts. And, moving up through the ranks meant that I got a new coffee run.

Each of the coffee carts had a listed number of food items on them and everyone was held accountable for the food items on their cart. This meant that at the end of each run you either turned in all of your food items that didn’t sell or you turned in the money for the food items. In short, if your wagon was short, the money came out of your pocket.

I never had any problems with my coffee runs until I moved up to the run as wagon master. (loading the coffee wagons) When I became the wagon master, my coffee runs always came up short. And each time, it was for the same amount of money. Hum!

Finally, I noted at one of my coffee stops, that while every one was sorting through my selection of sandwiches and donuts, one guy approached the coffee wagon from in front of the coffee urn. Since he was in my blind spot, he would then reach down and grab a carton of milk from under the cart and walk away with out paying.

Thief!!

This really ticked me off. This guy was making 20 times the amount of money that I was making yet he was stealing from me and I had to pay for it!!

My plan was simple. I took a carton of milk and set it out side the factory in the hot sun and waited a few days. When I noticed that the carton was nice and swollen, I knew it was time.

On that fateful day, I brought the carton inside and iced it down good so that the swelling went away. Then I tucked it into a spot deep under the ice until the time was right. After all, I didn’t want any of my paying customers to end up with the bomb. Then, when I finished my last stop before the theft stop, I moved the carton of sour milk to the front of the wagon and positioned it as an ideal grab.

When I got to the theft stop, my regular paying customers grabbed what they wanted and paid for it. And the thief, as usual, approached the cart and quickly grabbed the bomb that was laid for him.

Seizing his prey, he quickly moved from the cart and prepared to devour it. He pealed back both sides of the carton and pulled the spout forward. Lifting it high, he pressed it to his lips and took his first big gulp. And a moment later, he spit it all out.

Yes!!!

But, oh no, he wasn’t finished. He decided to complain that the milk was sour. I told him that since he hadn’t paid for the it, he could have all of the sour milk that he wanted for free. And that if he wanted fresh milk, he would have to pay for it.

He threatened to complain to the union and I said “be my guest”! Next, he said that he would take his business to another wagon and I said”fine”. After all, if he left, my profits would increase.

I made a point in warning my co-workers about this clod. He was eventually written up. But the look on his face when he took that first fateful gulp was worth more than the money I lost on that clod.

Yes!!