Clean, stage, show, sell, repeat. Four times in a decade. Rather routine and always fast. And then came 2008 and our clean, staged home sat…and sat…and sat. Already financially committed to the new place, I wanted to help. I saw an ad for setting up a Nike store in the new outlet mall opening in the next town and called the temp agency to start the application process.

I drove to their main office, took a test, showed my license, and signed two pieces of paper. Overdressed, over-educated; how hard could this be? Fold some tee-shirts, stack them neatly on the shelves, and meet new people. Appear at the location at 8 am Monday.

Rows of long tables, aisles of shelving, and no chairs filled a significant portion of this huge shell of retail space. A variety of workers reported the first day with me—more men than women and mostly younger people who spoke exclusively to other young people. No idle chitchat between generations. These temps were permanent and talked (not directly to me) of working here and there and everywhere as if it were their intentional career path. One gal announced she was only going to work long enough to buy a $250 designer purse she was craving. We did start out folding clothes and the youth group won handily in the standing all day department.

I guessed our supervisor to be somewhere between old enough to drive and too young to legally drink and high on the power of his position. By the end of the first week, he had zeroed in on one employee and spent most of his workday ‘supervising’ her. Quite a humbling work environment for me where no one asked my opinion, no students to instruct, no air conditioning, no comradery, and no chair.

I noticed that most of the workforce wore some piece of clothing sporting the iconic logo. One team leader had a sizeable Swoosh tattooed on his calf! Perhaps he flashed that and wowed the interviewer. In fact, at the end of the first day’s required huddle, it was suggested we laborers wear Nike logo clothing to work. I searched my drawers and found one old tee shirt and two pairs of socks that complied. No matter, I did not need a checkmark to do the tasks before me, nor was I going to purchase pricey logo items I wouldn’t use. Besides, I read that the co-founder of the company, Bill Bowerman, was quoted as saying, ‘If you have a body, you are an athlete.’ There! I qualified! Back to that huddle thing …I agree that it’s a good idea to wrap up the day’s events, preview tomorrow’s, etc. Before we could be dismissed, these manager types had us gather in a circle, place our arms on the shoulders of those on either side and literally sway. At my height, that placed my nose directly in line with the armpits of sweaty guys who had worked all day in the heat. Reluctant participants were called out and asked to put more energy into the team spirit routine. Spare me!

Lunchbreak was one hour—I followed several women outside where we sat on the curb. That felt ok after standing all morning, but the R-rated discussion about their relationships (also temporary) and the speculation about others in our midst drove me to my car. I blasted the air conditioning, sat in my comfy reclining seat, and enjoyed my packed lunch. I dozed off at times and dreamt of being anywhere else.

One afternoon while resuming the monotonous unpacking of shirt boxes, the boss asked for a volunteer. Before I could stop myself, my arm went up and I was selected… (can’t recall noticing other hands.) He escorted me to the office. “Oh,” I thought, they must recognize that I am capable of more cerebral tasks.

“Here,” he said,” handing me a box cutter, “I want you to break down the boxes that they all empty.”

I figured he would not believe that I never used a box cutter before, so I took up my position across from the dozen tables of workers and the first box was tossed in my direction. I cut along the edges, folded it neatly, and set it to the side. Hunched over and engaged in my work, i.e., focusing on not slicing into a finger, I kept going, developing a pattern of cutting, folding, and piling that streamlined the process—or so I thought. After about 15 minutes, I turned, and all the people and the tables were gone. Only a staggering pile of boxes remained! I was asked to hand over the tool to a guy with the box cutter skill set! I returned to the table and took the expected ribbing. The woman next to me advised, “You never put up your hand when they ask for volunteers!” Now the youngsters decide to share with me!

Another afternoon the boss announced that a shipment had arrived, and everyone was to stop folding and go out to the dock. We lined up and two dudes tossed boxes down to us. In assembly-line fashion, we carried them inside and got back into line for the next box. No consideration was given to matching the size or weight of the parcel to the size of the person. You got what was next and I got a whopper! Struggling to wrap my arms around it, or see where I was going, I wobbled inside. Before I could set it down, I felt my low back give way. I finished out a painful day, questioning my common sense every minute. I climbed into the car and called my husband.

“Hi, I need you to get out that emergency box of Mac and Cheese and make it. And please, fill the whirlpool tub so I can crawl into it as soon as I get there. Look for the Epsom salts in the linen closet and dump some in. Thanks, Honey—I’m on my way.”

I struggled to sit up and drive the 20 minutes. At home, the table was set and the noodles boiling. I changed, soaked, and once in my pajamas, enjoyed the dinner Deluxe! Bedtime soon followed.

Two days later we got a recorded call that the temp job ended, and we were not to return. Good thing—going there would have interfered with my new schedule—reporting for weeks of chiropractic appointments. In 1988 Nike launched their iconic motto: Just Do It—twenty years later, I did do it and having proven my status as an athlete, there’s no need to ever do it again.

Lilly Kauffman is a non-fiction writer who was privileged to work as both librarian and a teacher. Her essays, whether serious or humorous, capture the experiences that allow us to laugh and grieve. Family and faith inform her writings. She is currently working on several book projects: A Mother Grieves in Ink, Ampersand, and Lil Letters.