When I visited Berbice in 2023 after four years of being away, one of the places which held sentimental value for me was Spready’s Bakery in Port Mourant on the country. I visited the location and met with my old boss, Mr. Manoj. I requested to take a walk around the bakery. The bread slicing machine was just the same as it was when I worked it more than 20 years ago. I tried to relive the beautiful, sentimental experience of working at Spready’s Bakery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wrote in another article how going to the wrong high school broke me. Well, ironically, working at Spready’s bakery helped to fix me, but in a way that few people can relate or perhaps even understand. By the time I was 16 years old, while still in high school, I was dissatisfied with the way things were. The school system seemed to me like a failure. We were sitting all day, playing and talking nonsense, and teachers hardly ever showed up to class. When they did, I couldn’t care less. I would hardly pay attention. I couldn’t wait until I finished high school to get a job. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just as the summer holiday hit on our final year of school, I checked by Spready’s bakery for you. And I would read the thoughts of the manager who was looking at me, “this soft, handsome looking, clean skinned youth seemed to have a good life, and might not be able with this work.” They told me to check back another two weeks, which I did, over and over, until bang! Manoj said to “turn out Monday.” Those were magically words for me. My first real job!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On my first day, I showed up without eating breakfast because I was running late. I had to grease the pan. It was the first time I had to stand up for 8 hours straight and work with my hands. After about two hours, I went to the back where another guy was doing some work, grabbed an old drinks case, and sat down. One of the owners, Mr. Narine, passed and remarked calmly, “why you got the guy sitting on drinks case there?” I had no idea what that mean. I was about to apologize and go look for a chair instead when I realized that sitting wasn’t allowed on this job. Imagine being jolted from a lifestyle of sitting down all day to not being able to sit down for eight hours! That was tough. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The first few weeks of working at Spready’s bakery tested my physical and mental strength to the fullest. But their was no way in hell I was going home to tell my dad and sister that I quit because the work was “too hard” to get laughed at. I stood it out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The other boys who were working there were youths between the ages of 16 to 25 most of who were high school dropouts. No offense, but most of them were not literate. During the first few months, they were rude and disrespectful. But after two months on the job, my body and mind shifted into overdrive to adapt to the new lifestyle and environmental pace. I started to move faster and finish task faster than most, if not all, of them boys there. They couldn’t keep up with me. One day, my partner on the slicing machine, Bobby, who always use to lambast me during my first few weeks, fell sick. I told him to sit down on the drinks case behind the bread racks and rest while I doubled up and did both our tasks: loading the machine, catching the bread as they sliced, bagging them off, stapling, and packing. Bobby just bent his head and rested for about 5 hours until the shift was over. Bobby, the guy who didn’t finish high school, use to always tell me exactly how dumb I was during my first few weeks, just because he was experienced and used to the work and I was catching up. Looking back at this now I can see, like in so many other instances, the moral superiority of me over other people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By my fifth month, I had gotten so strong that I unloaded a whole truck of flour and felt as though I was unloaded bags of corn curls. The boss, Mr. Narine, passed by and said, “why are you putting the lil boy to unload flour?” He didn’t know that I wasn’t feeling a thing!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By Christmas, I got the flu and had to rest for two weeks. When I recovered, my dad said he won’t let me go back to work there because own of his colleagues, where he was teaching at Corentyne Comprehensive High, was laughing at him that his son was working at bakery. So I stayed home for the next six months and studied on my own to write the upcoming CXC exams for a second time that June. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
If I could go back in time, I would have rebelled against my dad and kept working at Spready’s bakery. His guidance in my life had been generally very poor. This was the best job I ever had. It job taught me what you never learn in school. It helped me discover my inner strength and see the beauty of life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"