He was 19 and nervous. His mom had insisted he wear the suit on his first day of work. Exceptional grades had earned him an internship as a state-processor for the Commodity Trade Convention Center. Armed Security Guards escort two dozen tired, cold and hungry children into the backdoor of the facility. Holding the tag scanner with shaky hands, he confirms each child’s name and number. Feeling awkward and a little guilty, he can’t look the new VEP commodities in the eyes as he marks them for their initial sale price.
A nurse gives the children a once over to insure adequate health and has them dress in standard t-shirts and shorts.
Eating a breakfast biscuit and drinking a beer, the smelly truck driver smiles as he holds his hand out for payment.
