The Price of Picking Produce
I started a new temporary job for the summer picking produce for a local farm. It may be the hardest physical labour I have ever done!
Day One: I arrive early for the 6am start in old black yoga pants, long sleeved shirt over a tank, Tilley hat, steel toe Blundstones, and my coffee.
First task is potatoes. We pull the plants, 5 or six in a row, and then kneel and scoop the ones on the plant and then dig through the dirt to find the buried ones, approximately 45 sec per plant. The long timers make it look easy. I find every lump of dirt feels like a potato so it takes me more like 3 minutes per plant. Also my knees are screaming at me the whole time. And I didn’t have gloves so the boss gave me a pair of nitrile gloves. Better than nothing but my hands are sweating within a few minutes.
Next task is carrots. We pull them and place in bundles. Someone comes a long behind us and elastics them and collects the bunches into bins. This was easy and quick and just as the sun was appearing and the temperature began to rise.
Next is beans. Beans are not really fun to pick. The other pickers begin with a snack from the bags they brought out to the field – just a quick banana and a granola bar. I sip my coffee and then put the gloves back on, struggling a bit with the wet inside. Then they show me how to pick. It is not hard exactly but it was too hard to kneel and also hard to get up once I sit down. Sitting involves twisting since you sit sideways to the plants and need both hands th hold the plants and pull the beans without damaging the plants. By now the sun is up full and it is hot, over 20 C. I spend as much time getting up and sitting back down as I do picking. I’m hungry, thirsty, and more muscles hurt than I even knew I had. We pick 2 bins of green beans and start the yellow.
Lunch break finally happens and it is a hot 5 minute walk from the fields to the break area. I immediately have a big drink of water. I sit in a chair. Whew. I had a boiled egg, and some yogourt and fresh cherries. Break is over and I am too full. My food is sitting like a big wet lump in my belly. My head is beginning to ache.
After lunch we finish filling the bin of yellow beans and then weed a section of ground. The weeds are big and tough, and the ground is hard and dry. My “rubber” gloves are sodden and uncomfortable. I am sodden with sweat and uncomfortable. My legs hurt. My knees have red pressure marks and will no longer let me kneel and it is hard to sit with my tummy feeling bloated and icky. I do sit and I give it the best I can. The 2 Punjabi ladies are watching me with concern. They ask me over and over if I am okay because my face is very red. They tell me to drink water. We are hitting around 1 pm and the temp is 473 C and I don’t know if I want to throw up, or need the toilet urgently, or need to immerse myself in the nearest mud puddle, not that there really is any mud puddles. I find myself looking with longing at the sprinklers watering the corn.
I finally decide to go up to the bathroom which is a long walk through the long strawberry row, and then up the road past the break area into the market proper. I stopped at the break area which is where all the produce is washed and prepared for sale, and I washed my hands. I seriously thought about sticking my head in the water but it was icy cold and I thought the shock my make me pass out for real. I finally found the washroom with help, since I didn’t know where it was. I did not throw up or have any sort of terrible tummy issue. I tinkled and then washed my hands. As I dried my hands on the nice thick wad of paper towel, I stuck it in the cold running water and put it on my head under my Tilley hat. So there I am heading back to the field, water dripping out from under my hat, and I meet up with the farm manager, my boss. I tell her I had to come use the bathroom and refill my water bottle and that I had begun to feel a bit ill. I felt better after that and went back out to the fields. We finished weeding the area just at quitting time. 10 or 12 bins filled to overflowing with weeds, stacked for pick up at some other time.
As I walked up again to the shack, my lower back was spasming, my hip flexors were screaming, and a small strip on my neck was on fire where the sun found an opening between my hat and my shirt. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it all the way back to my truck. Once there, I was seriously not sure I could get up into it. I was envisioning climbing like a child. Thankfully, I managed to get in without losing more dignity than I already had that day. I drove home with dirt embedded into my skin through the yoga pants and boxers, dripping with sweat, head pounding with too much heat.
After a shower, a Robax, some electrolytes, and I good sleep, I was back the following morning for a 6 am start.
Day 2: I bought a small stool, knee pad, water – not coffee, and a lighter lunch with tuna and crackers, and a smaller yogourt and fruit. It was not nearly as hot, and we spent the entire day picking peas. I also made some nut bars with almonds, cashews, peanuts, and maple syrup which are really good and are easy to eat out in the field, although I did forget to bring any for day 2.
I will never complain again about the prices of farm fresh produce and I challenge everyone to go spend a day working in the fields.
