picture me in the bowels of a Target receiving warehouse, surrounded by plastic
toy bikes "Made in China". Dozens of mexican girls in red target shirts walk
around using laser scanners to scan bar codes off giant cartons of diapers. I'm
assembling a little girl's bike "misty" and putting the plastic streamers into
the handlebars by licking the plastic end and forcing it through a little hole.
I'm wearing ear plugs not only because of the impact wrench I use but because of
the hip hop music coming from a nearby boom box. I pause to ponder my life and
see a sticker on the side of the misty bicycle, on the side of every misty
bicycle across the country in every target store getting ready for thousands of
little girls on Christmas morning. What does the sticker say?
"Fashion Rules!"
It's truly horrifying. You don't want to know what the Barbie bike sticker says.
ten seconds later I slice my finger open on a jagged piece of metal left over
from the Chinese factory. A target "team member" walks by and says, "Nigger,
please". Over the loudspeaker I hear a tony bennet Christmas song cut off by
"Good evening Target guests. Could Angela please come to housewares. Could
Angela please come to housewares."
This was a job I should have passed on. I could just buy a bike and take it
apart. I'll give all the money I make to charity.