Well to just start the story of working at IBP Amarillo, it helps to have a little background information on me. Hell, why not just start at the beginning?

Thankfully my childhood wasn't that bad. I was never exorcised or sent to camps for my sexual choices like others were. No, I've never told my family my sexual preferences.

I was born in Auburn N.Y. in October of 1974. I wasn't planed or truly wanted. It was a ten-month pregnancy and if you figure out the math, I was a cold winter's night attempt to stay warm. Now, I don't hate my mother but we will never have the best relationship. We are better off with at least 100 miles between us, limited to visits on the holidays.

We lived in New York State near the Erie Canal until my 12th birthday. Then we moved to Las Vegas. I have the soul of a country boy but now my heart will always be in Las Vegas. I am a bizarre marriage of east and west. I am both the relaxed, well just let it be spirit of Nevada, but I'm also the hot tempered raging New Yorker type.

Late childhood in Las Vegas was not a bad one. I did things that most of you would never know or understand. I did things that were not only immoral but illegal, even in Nevada. I was a fall down drunk in Jr. high. I made cash to drink on by doing the kind of odd jobs that only another person raised in a city could understand. Other than my Rum, I never did any drugs, not even pot.

Now, it's true I am gay and I'm also a truck driver. I got my CDL when I was 24. I was on the fence about it until I wrote a note to a truck driver on the Internet and he wrote me back. He truly didn't push me towards getting a CDL. Actually he tried to talk me out of it. Now, yeah, I do love having my CDL. I love to float them gears and make them miles. However, I got company burn out.

I drove for Dick Simmon trucking back when the Simmon family was still in control of the company. I drove a beat up old Volvo VN series with a Detroit engine and a super ten transmission. It was a great little truck, when it ran, which was not a constant thing. That old truck was just too tired to be a good over the road truck.

I found I could make more money driving limo's in Las Vegas then I did over the road so I left, and drove the limo's for a while. But it was before Christmas and I was still having a hard time making ends meet. I found another local job that paid yet more money. That's where I stayed 'til I moved to Texas.

The Mac's Delivery Saga

I spent over two years at Mac's. Working for this company it seemed you are allowed to be gay as long as you are not gay on company time. To make matters worse, I had a Mac's supervisor for a roommate. Now I am not griping and complaining. I do miss the people and would love to go back and visit. Maybe attend one of the company picnics. But there is no way in hell I wanna go back and work for them.

I drove anything from a little Chevy S-10 pickup truck to a 53 foot trailer pulled behind a day cab. I loved the challenge every day brought. But, I had lots of times where all I wanted to do was drive just like the rest of their idiot drivers rather than operate my equipment like the rock I was. I am not bragging about my self, but normally a person who grows up in a city is in tune with the traffic and the rhythm

of the city. I was good at what I did and enjoyed it. Other than being afraid to let my sexual preference out at work, it was a great job and lots of fun.

Yet, I was becoming a dunk, due to the stress I was feeling from hiding in my closet for so long. I got to the point where I was drinking while on the job just to get through the day. I had to change my life or die.

Thankfully, I fell into a better deal and moved to this house here in Texas. So I left Las Vegas for now.

Texas before IBP

Before I worked at IBP, I was employed at this Mini Mart. Now I don't wanna advertise their name because I totally hate the place now and would love to see them close down. But, to give you a hint, it is known for it's gut bomb-fried burritos and the mooing milk case. It was a horrible job with loosey lose pay and just wonderful management.

I just loved going to work to be told what a thief I was from a person on probation for embezzlement and another who furnished their home with a corporate credit card. As much as possible I worked alone, graveyard shift, and tried to sleep during the day.

I would get physically ill when I had to go to work. I got to the point of facing constant misery. I didn't even want to leave the house. I had no energy to take care of my pets. My place became a wreck and the dishes piled up. I finally knew I had to do something. I got a new job at IBP.

IBP

First of all, IBP meant a jump in pay and hours. I am now able to care for myself and do not need food stamps to live on. IBP meant steady hours, benefits, and the ability to get food at a good discount. IBP is a member of the Tyson food group. As of Nov. 10, 2002 Tyson will take full control over the plant when the old contract with the teamsters union ends.

I don't work in the plant. I work out in the truck area. That is where yard dogs (drivers) move trailers about, and they check trailers to ensure the reffers are working and have enough fuel. Others like me wash out box trailers and clean swinging beef trailers. Then the live cattle guys have their own fun.

When I was hired, I was told I would be doing live cattle. Thoughts of cattle prods and moving cattle sounded ok to me. I had no idea what they actually meant by “live cattle”. It turns out I have no fun with actual critters. It seems I only get to wash out bull trailers.

Now, I expect that most people have gotten a whiff of them lovely honey smelling trailers. Them covered with layers of shit and piss. Let me tell you, once a cow starts to get nervous, they no longer make those fun pucks you see in the fields. Nervous cow shit is this slimy, snotty, slick shit that has a unique and very horrible smell. It also splatters very well.

I was supposed to wash out the insides of these gems, but thankfully I am over 6 feet tall. Because of a bad back, and cow trailers having two cramped levels, IBP decided to have me wash the outsides of the wagons. Still a shitty job, but not as bad as having your head bumping into the top of the floor above, and slipping on the floor you are working on.

Washing the outsides of trailers you can still get the shit splattering on you if you're not careful. There is an art form, if you will, to not getting covered in shit or degreaser. Someone can show you, but 'til you learn it for your self, you end up smelling of cow shit. Also, your face burns as the degreaser over-spray makes its way into your eyes and into any possible cuts you have.

Now, I am no longer washing these trailers. I was on the wash dock only until I got to take my promotion and become a yard dog.

My Quick Gripe About Truckers

Ok, so yes, I am an ex-driver. I totally understand what it is like to be out there, doing the work. However, I would never pull the stunts

drivers pull now. I would stay out of the way of the yard dogs and let them do their work. When I drove truck, I never whined about trailers being dropped too close together. I never whined about how long it took to get my load.

I knew that complaining would get me nowhere. Now, drivers are totally whiney and out of control. Trucker's think that they are the center of the universe. That we in the yard only work to care for their needs. I've even had one driver come up to me and say, " I am not able to back up. Can I drop this trailer and you can put it in that hole there for me?" I want to scream at them and tell them if you can't back it into a hole, then you need to get off the road before you kill someone.

It is funny that it's never a woman or an openly gay guy needing all the attention. It is always the basic heterosexual type of male. He is the same lazy trucker at the truck stop who noses into a spot then waits until everyone leaves so he can pull straight out. The super trucker who's always on the radio talking about how great they are.

Out At Work

I am not, nor do I plan on discussing my preference in mates at work. Not only are the other guys horribly closed-minded there, but the only

openly non-hetro guy that worked at IBP was a complete ass. He would hit on anything that moved. He didn't care if he made you uncomfortable or if you didn't want the attention at all. If someone told him to stop, he just turned hostile toward that person. I do not want to be judged to be like him.

You see why I don't want to be open about being gay. I don't want to tell my preferences. I am afraid that I would be totally outcaste. I fear that the company would be so afraid that they would get rid of me. So, I do like most of us do, and live a double life, waiting for the day that I can be who I am without looking over my shoulder. True, here in Texas there must be something in the water to make all these guys interested in the same sex like I am, but I know I will never be free here.

There are lots of amusing short stories that I can write about my stay at the isle of misfit toys. I am waiting for the day I am yet again wanted at other work, and able to leave the isle and move back into real life.