Anyway, this book is also about weird jobs that I've had.
And so I thought I'd read this one.
Do we all know McCormick spice company?
With the red lids and so on, they're
in every supermarket in America.
Their headquarters is outside of Baltimore, Maryland,
which is where I live and where I went to college also.
And so after school, I graduated into the Great Recession.
Lovely.
And so I did a lot of weird side hustles.
And one was working as a taste tester for McCormick spice
company.
I ate a lot of hummus.
[LAUGHTER]
And I told them what I thought about the hummus.
[LAUGHTER]
I'm so proud that this poem is in the book
because it's literally just a description of my job.
It's called "Tester."
I catch a bus out to the county and check in
at a beige terminal.
And they ask me about the smells and textures of various dips.
And I click appealing or not appealing,
then elaborate in the text box below, artichoke
and French onion, spicy three-bean queso.
I got in on referral.
[LAUGHTER]
I live with seven other people.
I measure rent in how many sessions
I have to do with the dips.
I start testing what I can get away with,
notes of bright espresso, mouthfeel of a sun-ripe plum.
I write longer and longer.
I don't think they read a word.
[LAUGHTER]
It's weeks before you're entered into the system, more weeks
to get your tiny check.
Arlene says, if you think it's a scam, why
do you keep saying yes?
In the fluorescent room, I receive one dip
after another from blue gloved hands, always
the same plain tortilla chips to dip with,
the same hands clearing away the tiny plastic cups.
I tinker with my descriptions.
If I need water, they bring me water, in slightly larger cups.
[LAUGHTER]
It's honestly, the best job I've ever had in my life.
I wrote my poems.
And they fed me dips.
[LAUGHTER]