John looked at the pile of meat. He’d done sixteen shaves, which is what he’d been taught, and he was sure that he’d used the right thickness. John looked over at his neighbor’s pile, even though they’d been told not to worry about anyone else’s meat. John’s neighbor’s pile looked a little bigger than his. Or maybe it was just his imagination. He leaned in a little and looked at his slicer. It was dialed exactly three clicks in. He had to be right. 

          One row over, the weighings were starting. Three fleischmeisters were there. The first one weighed the meat, the second one typed the weight into a tablet, and the third talked to the apprentice that was being normed, pointing at the pile of meat and asking questions. The talker was the fattest, and he had a beard, which meant that he had to wear one of those nets over it. John had been careful to shave cleanly that morning. 

         They went fairly quickly, moving from apprentice to apprentice. Sometimes the bearded meister would slow the operation down a bit, but never all that badly. Still, by the time they reached the end of the first row, John’s feet were already beginning to bother him.  He pumped his legs just a little, not so that anyone could see him do it. He put his hands behind his back. They’d told him not to fidget. 

         The fleischmeisters started down John’s row, going the opposite direction from how they’d gone down the first row. John tried not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible not to.  “.44 pounds? You should probably double check your slicer work.” 

         John could feel himself starting to sweat even before the first droplets came. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. He opened his eyes back up. The fleischmeisters were one table closer. He looked back to his neighbor’s meat. Maybe it was the same size. During the training, he’d always been with someone who had undercut, so maybe he was just used to having the biggest pile. 

         Jon was thinking about the nature of ham and piling when the fleischmeisters got to his table. “How are you doing today?” the bearded one said. 

         John nodded. “Not bad. You?”

         The bearded one nodded back while the weigher slid John’s meat onto the scale.  John held his breath. 

         “.49 pounds. Nice job.” 

         John let himself have just a little smile. “Good trainers,” he said.  The tablet guy punched in the numbers. 

         “Right,” the bearded one said. “Well, you keep having a good day.”  “You too,” John said. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

​

*** 

​

         Chrissy made sure that her moan started low and built up slowly. Even at its peak, it wasn’t all that loud, but she held it for approximately two seconds before letting it start to trail off. When she was done, Chrissy opened her eyes and looked at Jamie. Jamie’s face didn’t show much emotion. “Was that it?” she asked. 

         Chrissy gave a little smile and shrug. “I can try again,” she said. 

         Jamie sighed, and not sexily. “Maybe we should listen to the sample moans again.”  Chrissy put her hands together, palm-to-palm in front of her. “No,” she said. “I can do this. I know I can.” 

         Jamie gave a little frown, then she shrugged. “Up to you, but keep in mind that you  need to be phone ready by Friday.” 

         Chrissy moved her hands apart and shook them a little. “I know. I’ll get it. So, I need to go longer or louder?” 

         “More louder. And you need to vary it a little more. Guys don’t get off on one-trick  ponies.” 

         Chrissy nodded and tried not to overthink things. They’d told her to be natural,  not to second guess herself in the moment. She gave a short, quiet moan with her lips shut.  She paused, opened her mouth and gave a slightly longer one. She took a deep breath and went louder, this time trying to alternate between low and high. She gave a drawn out,  “Oooh,” followed by a fast and emphatic, “Yes.” She did two more medium-sized moans,  then tapered off with a long but quiet one.

         Chrissy let herself catch her breath before opening her eyes. When she did, she saw  Jamie’s face in full bitch mode. Eyes half shut and edges of her mouth turned down. “We’re still on moans, Chrissy,” she said. “Let’s get this right before you start trying out words.” 

         Chrissy looked at the floor and nodded. She told herself that she would not cry.  “And don’t make your alternations so mechanical. Let yourself surprise yourself.” It was one of the company pieces of advice. Chrissy felt gross, hearing it now. But she nodded again. She could do this. Chrissy closed her eyes, pictured Hugh Jackman, and started to moan. 

​

*** 

​

         “Not straight in,” Krag said. “At an angle.” 

         Rax pulled his mini pitch out of the thing. He looked at it and saw that there was very little blood on the tines. He pulled his arm back and tilted his hand up. “Like this?” he asked, stabbing the thing hard. It groaned a little. 

         “No,” said Krag. “Downward angle, not upward. That’s how you’ll get your  momentum.” 

         Rax pulled his mini pitch out, and the thing squealed a little. Before he could stab  again, Krag said, “Like this.” He took his mini pitch and jabbed (at a slight downward angle). The mini pitch went in deep, and the thing howled loudly. After the tines were in, Krag bent his wrist a little, and the thing gave a high whine. Sure enough, when Krag pulled his mini pitch back out, the tines were covered in blood. Rax tried not to stare. 

         “You’ll tire yourself out,” Krag said. “You have to stab right so you can do the most  damage with the least work.” 

         Rax nodded. He felt bad that Krag had to keep showing him these things. It had taken him most of the day to get the hammer work down. Rax brought his arm back, tilting his hand a bit. Before he could even stab, Krag said, “Choke up on the handle. It will help  you to be more accurate.” 

         Rax repositioned his hand. It felt strange. He tried to jab the thing, but he ended up scraping a bit of the skin, and his mini pitch didn’t go nearly as deep as Krag’s. Rax tilted his mini pitch before pulling it out. The thing cried out. 

         “It’s not quite there yet,” Krag said.

         Rax nodded. He knew it was true. He looked to Krag, who nodded once, quickly.  Rax pulled back his arm, took a breath, and stabbed as hard as he could. The thing howled,  and loudly this time. Rax was pleased. But when he yanked the mini pitch out of the thing,  he saw that one of the tines was still in it. He didn’t have to look at Krag. He knew that this was not good.