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Fortunately, the only-slightly-too-big work boots have held up as we’ve stood in line, shuffling forward slowly over the last hour. Jeremy was right to get here early, but other guys still beat us to the punch. There has to be a hundred of them, all ready to sign their life away for the hope of earning triple what most jobs around here pay an hour.
A lot of the men are from surrounding towns and counties, guys who were willing to drive quite a distance to be here today. I’m glad for their presence, though, because they don’t know me, which means they’re less likely to see past my disguise. Unfortunately, there are still quite a few guys I do know, some I went to high school with. One, I used to date.
I really don’t stand a chance with Max. He works with Jeremy at the lumber mill so when he sees us waiting in line, he comes over to say hi right away. I try to keep my head down, seemingly very interested in the parking lot—Huh, is that concrete? Cool stuff—but that doesn’t help.
“Taylor?” Max asks, leaning down to peer under the brim of my hat.
I act deeply shocked to see him there. “Max?! No way. What are you doing here?”
His brows furrow in confusion.
Max was the “it” guy at my high school. Universally attractive with his boy band haircut and winning smile, no girl was immune to his charms. He also happened to be slightly more well-off than the rest of us thanks to his mom’s job as the middle school’s principal. He was the one with the cool new shoes at the start of every school year while all the rest of us were rocking hand-me-downs that had someone else’s feet imprinted on the soles. He and I only dated for a few months our sophomore year, but I’ve always had the impression that Max would change that if I gave him the chance.
His confusion gives way to intrigue. His dimples pop.
“I’m applying for a job. What are you doing here?”
Jeremy grunts loudly. Max looks toward him, and I barely notice my cousin shake his head in warning. The guys around us in line are starting to take notice. I don’t blame them. It’s been pretty boring so far, and I’d be curious about the man-child drowning in adult clothing too.
“Taylor and I are both applying,” Jeremy says simply as we all shuffle up one place in line.
A few of the guys behind us observe Max and the fact that he’s lingering. “Hey bud,” one of them says gruffly, “we’ve all been waiting here for an hour. If you want to get in line, get in the back.”
Max holds up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right, I’m going.” Then he aims one last smirk my way and adds a wink. “I’ll catch you guys in a little bit.”
Jeremy and I exchange a glance but otherwise keep silent. It’s obvious we’re both having second thoughts about going through with this. It’s going to be so embarrassing when we get to the front of the line and the recruitment team calls me out in front of everyone.
She’s a woman! Get her!
I’ve spent my time carefully assessing the situation so I can limit my chances of failure. Ahead of us, there’s a large white portable construction trailer, which Lockwood Construction staff has been filtering in and out of all day. In front of the trailer, there are three tables, each manned by a recruiter. When an applicant reaches the front of the line, he (or in my case, she) steps up to an available table, hands over his completed paperwork with his ID, answers a few questions, and if all goes well, he’s then given a small sterile cup for a urine sample. Ah yes, drug testing. I’m actually glad they’re doing it because a handful of guys awkwardly shuffled away and headed home once they realized that was the case, which shortened our wait time by a little bit.
To the left of the tables, there’s one of those fancy porta-potties—the kind with a mirror and sink inside. A man in scrubs stands at the door, allowing one person in at a time and subsequently collecting their urine samples after they’re finished.
That’s all I’ve got to get through. There’s nothing that should call undue attention to me. They’re not forcing us to perform daring feats of strength or prove our skill with a hammer. You there! Flip over that human-sized tire with one hand!
Nothing will call attention to my gender unless a great gust of wind whips my hat off and my hair goes tumbling down my back.
Just the thought makes me pull the brim down so it sits a little more snuggly on my head. Any lower and I’ll be blind.
