He took her into an office attached to the processor’s main floor and held a clipboard up to his face. “Marconi. What’s that, Polish?” She tried to smile, then realized he was serious and stopped. “Italian.” “You know the difference between words and numbers, Marconi?” “Yes.” “Can you multiply and divide by ten?” “Yeah.” He brought the clipboard closer to his face. “Can you work for extended hours in the extreme cold?” A memory of being a kid, shut in the bakery freezer, flashed through her. “Yes.” “You’ll be required to distinguish shades of color to identify abnormalities or defects in the fish.” He looked up at her. “Your eyes both good?” Better than yours, she thought. So many of the men on the Rock seemed to have been spit out the end of a meat grinder. “They work fine.” He read haltingly. “Employees are regularly exposed to toxic or caustic chemicals, and risk electrical shock and vibration. The noise can be unusually loud. You’ll be required to stand for long periods at a time, walk, use your hands to finger, handle, feel, and reach into fish.”
