My First Job

I walked into the dimly lit room, swatting yellow and black bugs away from my face. Country music was blarring from an old stereo that sat on a high shelf. I grabbed an apron that used to be white, but has been dirtied over the months of use. I tied it around my waist and walked over to three huge barrel-shaped extractors. I waved to the person feeding rectangular honeycombs into a machine that came out on a conveyor belt. I silently placed the sticky honeycombs into the extractor, swatting away bees and wasps when they came to close to me. The sickly sweet smell of honey made my stomach churn. Suddenly, I felt a sharp, hot pain shoot down my neck and flinched. I grabbed at my neck and saw a ljmp bee fall to the ground. I cringed as the hot pain continued and stiffened my neck. I pulled out the small stinger and went back to feeding the extractor with sticky, bee-infested honeycombs. I paused this process only to turn on the huge cylinder-shaped monster.

I refused to look at the clock, knowing it would only make time go by slower. I was relieved when I was told to take a lunch break and knew that it was 1:00. I smiled as I pulled off the dirty apron and walked quickly to the old farmhouse, making the distance between me and the horrid country music and sweet smell of honey further away.

Alright, this a little exerpt I wrote about my first job. I extract honey. It's a bad job. And before you ask, yes, I deal with bees, wasps, yellow jackets, hornets, and anything else that can cause horrible pain from a stinger. No, they do not provide protection from these bugs. And, yes, I am so done with this job. I can't wait until school starts.