Page 24 of What I'm Looking For

The big man steers us to a machine and leans in close to its operator. “Excuse me, sweetheart. Can we pause this knitter for a minute so Mr. Gregory can see our new feeders?” After she presses a few buttons, he places his hands on her hips to shift her aside, punctuating the move with a light slap on her rear. Her mouth tightens slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. I don’t want to rock the boat on my first trip, so I don’t either.

Polk points at a series of instruments that pull several thin strands of yarn into a central cylinder from giant spools suspended overhead. He says something about adding a new computer to the knitter, which means the worker doesn’t have to stop the machine to change yarn colors. Since he directs his monologue to Roland, I miss half of what he’s saying, but I take notes as best I can.

Going up on tiptoes, I check out the inner workings of the machine. “How many people suffer injuries from working with those fast-moving needles?”

Polk settles an arm around the worker’s shoulders. “Our injury rate has dropped to almost zero since we added the computers. Isn’t that right?…” He squints to read her nametag. “Belinda?”

“Yes, sir.” Belinda seems eager to get her machine running again, so I step back. Is Polk telling the truth? I make a note to research their legal history. If they have pending lawsuits, that should be included in my report.

Polk says something to Roland before guiding me away from the machine’s core toward a wheeled bin full of knitted shapes. When an object flies out of a tube right next to me, a startled yelp flies out of my mouth.

Polk laughs. “Roland knows all this, but since you’re so curious, I’ll give y’all the full tour.” He lifts the projectile out of the bin and winks at me. “See here, the sock is just a tube right now. It needs the toe sewn up. That happens over yonder in finishing.”

It is fascinating to see how many steps go into creating something as simple as a sock, but in the boarding and packaging areas, I can’t believe how quickly the workers have to move to slide the socks onto forms and into plastic sleeves after they’ve been steamed. “Do you have a history of repetitive strain injuries in this department?”

Either Polk doesn’t hear me or he chooses to ignore me. In any case, the tour seems to be over, and I follow the men back through the giant doors, relieved to return to the quiet and cool offices. I don’t know how those women can stand working in that heat and noise all day.

“Do you provide earplugs for the workers?” The wail of the factory floor echoes in my ears so I’m not sure if I’m shouting.

“We do everything OSHA requires,” Polk snaps. “I can’t control whether or not they wear ’em.”

I’m scanning my notes as we walk to organize my questions regarding the cost of improvements versus productivity increases, and I stumble slightly when the flooring changes from tile to carpeting.

Polk takes my elbow, a patronizing smile on his face. “Sorry we made you walk so far in those heels of yours, darlin’. You know what? I’ve got some samples of some of our new hosiery products—they’ve got support for your legs and they’re attractive. You can take some for you and your girlfriends.”

“Thank you, Mr. Polk. I wonder?—” I begin, but Polk speaks over me.

“Now, I’ve got to get on a few calls here, but I’ll see you later for dinner, Roland. Kate, I’m afraid my club doesn’t admit women. I can see if my girl, Doreen, can take you to dinner?”

I glance at Roland, who shakes his head slightly, his lips a straight line. Okay, then. I channel the politeness my Southern mama drilled into me from birth. “Oh no, that’s fine. I’ve got these notes to go over. I’ll just get something at the diner by the hotel.” It’s one thing for Polk to exclude me, but why didn’t Roland object?

Polk pats my shoulder. “We’d probably put you right to sleep, anyway. Just number talk.”

“Actually, that’s my job at Rhodes Wahler. Focusing on your numbers and those of your entire industry. But I’m sure Roland will fill me in.”

He nods but is already halfway in his office. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Come back and visit us real soon. Bye, now.”

Roland nods at him. “I’ll meet you at the club.”

Not sure whether to lobby for a change of venue, I follow my boss out into the blinding sunshine.

“Y’all have a nice day, now,” I hear Polk’s secretary call as the door closes behind us.

* * *

Back in the car,Roland turns the AC on high before turning to me. “Do you know why Polk excluded you from dinner tonight?”

“Because he’s sexist?”

Roland dips his chin, his mouth hard.

I slump into the seat and then flinch when the bare skin at the back of my neck hits hot leather. “Sorry, it was just hard to take all that.”

“He may have backward ideas about the role of women in the workplace, but I don’t believe that’s the reason he doesn’t want you to join us.”

I hug my notebook to my chest. “I thought I was here to learn. I have questions to ask and it seems like I’ll be missing out on important information if I’m not at dinner.”

Roland pauses before speaking, and when I glance over, his expression’s frosty. Like the AC on my sweaty feet. “Kate, confronting the manager directly is not the way to get what you need from him. Getting him to trust you and believe you’re on his side, having a drink with him and encouraging him to tell his tales will reveal more than your list of accusations about his practices.”

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