Today was my second day of real work since quitting my job at the beginning of September.  By real work, I mean work that I’m getting paid in a currency other than free-range sausages or sailing lessons.  I’ve spent the last two days working in a wine bottling factory in sunny Blenheim, New Zealand.

Working with wine all day long?  Sounds cool right? It isn’t really.

I woke up at 5:00 yesterday morning, unsure if I even had a job, but hopeful and desperate.  At 5:45, three other backpackers and I met a white van on the street (still dark out) where we were piled in like the migrant workers we were (or hoped to be).  We arrived at a large factory in time to start work at 6:00.  Before I could find the contractor who would be my employer, I was handed a broom and asked to sweep the floor of the warehouse by a pig-nosed lady with poorly-dyed red hair.

Pam, the floor manager, waddles like a duck when she walks.  She is barely five feet tall, and I’m pretty sure she has the ability to breathe fire.  Within two seconds of hearing her speak (more of a yell, really) I determined that Pam was the closest I’ll ever get to witnessing the human incarnation of a Tasmanian devil.

I spent an hour or so sweeping, still unsure if I was being paid for my time, before I finally met John, the contractor who would pay me.  He said it was no problem for me to work and that he would get the necessary paperwork for me later that day.

Relieved, I continued sweeping until Pam yelled for all of the migrant workers to assemble in front of her to receive instructions for the day. In total, there were about 12 backpackers, yawning and hungover, from an assortment of countries - USA, Germany, Czech Republic, Canada, Malaysia, and the Philippines.  We were told that we would be bottling, packaging, and pallet-loading Dog Point Pinot Grigio - a particularly expensive wine that sells for $35/bottle or so.  In other words, don’t drop anything.

While Pam was yelling this at us, I figured out who she reminded me of.  If you’ve ever heard the Pink Floyd song “We Don’t Need No Education”, you may recall a woman faintly yelling in the background at one point of the recording…sounding like something out of Oliver Twist.  This is Pam the floor manager. I also realized that this job is going to suck.  I decided that a fun way to pass time would be to see how much effort it will take to get Pam to smile.  I will woo her with friendliness…try to be the Betty Lou Who to this Grinch.  So far, I’ve been unsuccessful…

Anyhow, the She-Devil told me that I would be pulling unlabeled wines off of the assembly line, placing them neatly into a bin, and using a palate jack (kind of like a manual forklift) to move them over to another assembly line, which carries them into the machine that adds the labels.  Why they didn’t just hook the machines together was beyond me, but I didn’t complain, it was easy, mindless work and it would make the eleven hour shift go by quickly.

It was still a long day.  After a few hours of grabbing bottles of wine, four at a time, my pointer finger began to swell and develop blisters.  My lower back ached.  And my ears hurt from hearing the voice of Satan all day.  We were given a smoke break every three or four hours and 30 minutes for lunch, but the day still dragged on forever.  At 5:00pm, we were relieved by another shift of backpackers who would fulfill our duties into the night.  We were told to report back at the factory at 5:00 the next day.

After work, everyone in the hostel spent a few hours complaining about the job and watching The Simpsons, and around 7:30, people started going to bed.  I set my alarm for 4:00 AM and drifted to sleep around 9:30 or so, the sounds of wine bottles clanking and Pam’s fiery screams echoing in my mind.

Today, I had to work a full 12 hour shift.  Five to Five.  It was equally as mind-numbing and ego-deflating, but the hours are welcome.  And at $12.50/hour (minimum wage in NZ), I should be able to put a fair amount of cash into my account in the three weeks I plan to work.

I spent the day helping to load boxes onto palates.  Because of the level of automation, it is an easier job physically, but one that only involves two minutes of work every 15 minutes, meaning that most of my time was spent standing by idly…so the day went excruciatingly slow.  At 5:00, the night shift came to relieve us again…and I was disappointed that a steam whistle didn’t signify the shift change.  I don’t even get a punch card…

After work, the highlight of my night was cheap pizza night at Domino’s - $7.50 for a pie.

And now it is 9:42 PM, sadly already well past my bedtime.  Good night faithful readers.