The Worst Birthday Ever

The day I turned 27 began like any other. The alarm came from the dark, waking me to another working day.

I hoped I would receive special treatment at work, like being able to pick my station, say. After all, it was my birthday. Sure, I'd be spending it working in a factory for twelve hours, but still, a birthday should be special.

The first thing that went wrong was that I forgot the cake. I had bought a birthday cake to share with my co-workers, since I didn't have the energy to make cupcakes, and they had been bugging me about wanting some. But I left it on the counter, and only remembered in the van.

But the worst thing that happened began with a rumour. Emma, the night shift supervisor, let us know she'd heard something about layoffs the following week. Since we were casual staff, our jobs would be toast.

I felt a weight in the pit of my stomach. How would we get to Asia now?

Great. No cake, and worse, my job in jeopardy. Still, my co-workers wished me Happy Birthday, and we started our day by labeling boxes. Unfortunately, once production started, it was my job to watch the boxes go by and make sure they were straight. Facing a wall, too, so there was nothing else to look at. Woohoo.

To be fair, I had the option to do the Dividers, but these were six-packs, which means that you have to fold up the dividers by hand, and the boxes come out six at a time, instead of three. Flipping, folding and filling six dividers every twenty seconds - which I had never done alone - did not seem like a good idea to me. So I swapped with Tina.

I heard Pam coming like the wrath of God.

The woman yells so much that no one listens to her anymore. Plus, she hardly ever says anything important, and she is always angry. Her voice is like that piercing alarm at McDonald's, so constant that the employees can't even hear it.

With acid sweetness, she told me if I was so useless that I couldn't do six-pack dividers by myself, I could kiss my job good-bye.

Gulp.

I guessed that I had better give it a try. Tina gave me an encouraging little squeeze on the shoulder before stepping down.

At first I was all right, too. For a good minute or two, I flipped and folded like a pro, and I felt pretty safe because Tina had left me a little cache-pile of pre-folded dividers in case anything went wrong. But I was feeling pretty upset about the whole situation, and Robson, a supervisor from Brazil, noticed something in my expression and came to ask me if I was okay.

Things got pretty hairy after that.

I can normally talk and walk at the same time, as it were, but little things kept adding up. A divider would get stuck and I'd pause the belt for a second, but that would make the next load of boxes come all the sooner. Too soon, I had to use Tina's cache-pile, but when I reached for it, the tower fell over and the dividers scattered all over the floor, like a house of cards collapsing. Robson shouted advice and folded me some more, which I must say, didn't look too good, since I was supposed to be proving that I could do it alone. The more the boxes backed up, the more weight on the first box, making it impossible to turn and slide into the next machine.

When the boxes started backing up all the way to John's station, Pam cut me off.

I could feel my chin start to tremble, and tears glassing over my eyes as I went back to watching boxes.

I was useless. I had cost us our plans to visit Asia.

It turned out that, out of the 12 backpackers employed at the factory, the management had decided to keep two. Pam had already given one of the jobs to my flat-mate Al, and in the end, she offered the other one to John. Out of loyalty to me he politely told her to stuff it. The truth was, I was going to be laid off regardless of whether I could do six-pack dividers or not. Besides, we couldn't afford to live on one income.

After work, John took me out for dinner to cheer me up. We ate Indian food and had some laughs, and didn't get home to bed until half-ten.

On the bedside table, John had left a little wrapped box containing a beautiful greenstone necklace, carved to look like a fern frond, and a matching pair of greenstone studs. (Greenstone is New Zealand jade, very sacred to the Maoris. Traditionally, greenstone is a gift, never bought for oneself, but always given to loved ones.)

I was feeling better until I had to get up for work.

On Saturday, our last day, I watched boxes go by for five or six hours, and did Dividers for the rest of the day. Saying goodbye to everyone was a little sad, but in retrospect, they are probably used to backpackers coming and going. I don't imagine they'll give it much of a thought.

We had planned to celebrate my birthday with some friends after work, a dress-up dinner. I was excited: I dearly needed a laugh. I put a dress on, and walked to the Lemon Tree, where the girls were getting ready. It might have been a mistake to wear my new shoes, which gave me terrible blisters - by the time I finally arrived, the left heel was soaked in blood, and it was nearly 7:00. John and the boys were going to meet us at the restaurant at 8:00.

By 7:30, Tina was still in the shower, and Lindsay was heating up the curling iron to do my hair.

At ten past eight, I texted John to let him know we were on our way - which was mostly true. We were just waiting for Tina, whose hair was finally finished.

She kept insisting that we go without her, but I couldn't leave her - then she'd have to walk by herself, and if Lindsay stayed, well, I didn't want to walk by myself either. So we stayed.

In the end, Tomas and Nicolas walked me to town. Tina was still getting ready, and Lindsay had disappeared to do laundry. It was probably 8:30. I felt a little bad. I hoped they were having a good time at the restaurant. By the time they called, I said we really were on our way and I'd be there soon. But even Rodolphe seemed a little mad.

At ten to nine, I finally arrived, very late to my own party. John gave me the finger the whole time I crossed the room, not even looking at me. I thought that was a little harsh, but I guess he did have to wait for about an hour.

It turned out that the restaurant was completely out of food. Apparantly there was this big function earlier in the day and they'd been cleaned out. All they had was fries.

Everyone was starving and pissed off.

I ordered a drink, feeling chagrined.

Tim doesn't drink, so he took off, saying it was a bit of a disaster, but he hoped we could have a real dinner sometime before everyone left town. Tina and Lindsay arrived by 9:30 or so, but after ten minutes, they said they'd like to leave because it was "too French" for them. Apparantly they had been fighting with Tomas and Nicolas, and there had been some insults that I had missed. In the end, Tomas and Nicolas took off in a bit of a huff. I felt confused. Then Lindsay and Tina left to go to McDonald's - if they were going to eat fries, they'd eat cheap fries.

Rodolphe, Xavier, and John decided to head back to our flat. If they were going to drink, they didn't want to spend a fortune doing it.

My party had disintegrated in all of ten minutes. I followed them out.

I was absolutely freezing. It was somewhere between zero and two degrees, and all I had on was a dress and a light cardigan. After a few blocks, I could hardly feel my toes. I kept looking around for a taxi, and after awhile I noticed that the boys were half a block ahead of me.

So, this is what it came to. No job, no friends, no jacket. Walking alone after all.

Rodolphe came back and offered me his sweater, and I burst into tears. When you are feeling sorry for yourself, someone's kindness can be like a trigger.

"Because you are cold," he said, "it is not why you are crying. So? What's wrong?"

"It's ruined," I gulped, "my birthday, and, I lost my job, and now, I don't know what we'll do, and everyone's angry with each other, and John is angry with me, and I haven't eaten, and I'm cold, and... and I'm just... tired." I took a deep breath.

When we got home, I changed into warmer clothes and got into bed. I put my feet near the heater.

Rodolphe knocked, then came in and sat on the bed, trying to cheer me up.

He told me he's decided to go back to France.

I told him he's my favourite person I've met in New Zealand, and I realized it was true. I'll miss him.

This morning, I woke early. I wanted to watch a movie, but Daniel was asleep on the couch, so instead I showered and got dressed and packed up our computer.

Today it is very sunny and cold. On the way to town, the world was so quiet. I could hear my hair blowing against my jacket, making a sound like pine needles falling against a tent. As I crossed the bridge, I heard the clock tower toll the hour, accompanied by a rush of wings as the pigeons took flight. The sounds seem to echo in the emptiness.

I feel emptied out and alone.

I wonder what we'll do next. Maybe I should be looking for jobs, but I feel too exhausted.

I've had the worst birthday ever, but I am starting to feel better now.

This is a fresh start. We have come out ahead, in the end. Maybe our plans have been put on hold, and maybe we won't get to Asia after all, but at least we have saved up some money, had some interesting experiences, and met some great people.

I can't wait to pack up my things and get on the bus again. A change of scenery sounds very nice at the moment. I haven't seen the ocean for months.

I have asked John to decide for us where we will go, what our plan will be, and I think he understands. I just want to be a passenger for awhile, have a break from worrying about the future.

Yes, I am ready to go - I am willing to go anywhere.

I'll wait and see what the next week brings.