Sod Off

It was the summer of 94, I’d been freed from school and lazy days to fill were ahead. I lay on my bed wishing the sun away so I could sleep in longer. I could hear mom's radio in her room as she got ready for the day. The country song had ended and the daily announcements for happenings and events in our little community were beginning. My mind had just started to wander off, thinking of what I’d like to do on this sunny summer day, when it caught hold of an announcement. “Want to earn some cash? The new bank needs help unloading and laying out sod, and they will pay you for helping. Just show up at the bank by 9 am today to help and earn some money!”

“Cash!” My mind screamed, “that sounds good to me.” Fully awake now I jumped out of bed and tossed on some work clothes.

“Hey mom,” I said, knocking on her door.

“Yeah,” was the muffled response.

“Can I go do the work at the bank they were talking about?”

“Sure, I can take you over. Eat some breakfast and find some gloves to wear,” came the reply.

I bounced off excited I was going to have some money coming my way soon.

Pulling out a box of cereal to munch on I noticed my little brother straggle into the kitchen wiping sleep from his eyes.

“You want to make a few bucks today,” I questioned.

He reached for the cereal and gave me that what are you talking about look.

“They announced on the radio that the new bank needs people to help lay out sod. I’m going, want to come and get some money too?”

I had his attention now and he finally started to speak.

“When?”

“They said to be there by nine. Mom is going to run me over. She said to eat and get some gloves.”

“Ok,” he said, starting to wake up more.

We ate in silence then went to the box of old work gloves and began looking through, arguing over who got the better pair.

“Ready to go,” mom shouted down the stairs.

“Yes,” we replied as I grabbed the nice pair of gloves making the valid point that it was because of me we got to go.

Mom came downstairs, grabbed a banana, and headed for the door.

“Did you get gloves,” she questioned as she walked outside.

We both responded in the affirmative, my brother giving me a nudge and dirty look as we followed mom to the car.

“How much are they going to give us,” my brother asked as we drove along passing field after field of crops.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I don’t think the radio said.

“I hope it’s a lot,” he beamed.

I smiled and wished for the same thing.

Mom dropped us off and hollered, “I’ll be back in a few hours,” as we jumped out and ran for our money opportunity.

A flatbed trailer, pulled high with rolls of sod, sat in the new cement parking lot with a group of teenagers gathered around just as eager as my brother and I to get some spending money. We joined the group and chatted away with others, waiting for some guidance and direction. The sun was already beating down on us and I wished I had thought to bring a hat to at least provide a little shade. A few men walked over to our jolly gathering and started explaining what they wanted us to do, pointing to the locations we should work on first. They finished explaining what needed to be done and we began moving to accomplish it. I stepped out from behind some of the others to start forming the line they wanted so they could hand us sod off the top of the pile.

“What are you doing here with all the boys,” one of the men yelled towards me.

I looked around unsure if he was talking to me or not and, for the first time, realized I was the only girl in the group. Looking back at the man I was about to tell him I came to work when he jeered, “You won’t even be able to lift one of the rolls! This isn’t work for girls.”

I was so shocked I didn’t even know how to respond. Did he just tell me that I couldn’t do this work because I was a girl?! My mind began to swarm with anger, and I marched for the line getting even more upset as I heard him snicker and make some comment about me not lasting long.

I had never been told I couldn’t do something based solely upon the fact that I was a girl. I knew I was skinny, I thought of my aunt who once jovially told me if I turned sideways and stuck my tongue out I’d look like a zipper, but you can be strong even when you’re skinny. My skin began to burn and not just from the scorching rays of sun. My mind was boiling over with fury, “How dare he say I can’t do this. He doesn’t even know me or what I can do! I’ve worked side by side with my father and brothers all my life, I can do hard work.”

Fuming with rage, I reached the front of the line; I looked up into the face of my offender, gave him a glare, and reached for my load. “Ok,” he said with a smirk, and he gently eased a roll of sod down to my arms pausing for a moment as if he didn’t dare let go.

“You good,” he questioned as soon as he released all the weight on me.

“Yes,” I grunted, annoyed the man had treated me differently from the boys and frustrated with myself because the sod was heavier than I had anticipated, and I stumbled a bit.

I turned and walked off getting used to the weight and awkward shape. Feeling the eyes of my enemy on my back I tried to display confidence. Reaching my destination I set the sod down triumphantly and looked back towards the trailer wanting to gloat because I’d just proved him wrong.

He was busy handing sod down to others though, and I felt a tiny bit deflated that he wasn’t gaping in shock. I rolled out the sod and went back for more to show him just how wrong his judgement had been. I may not be the strongest one here, but I knew I could do this.

This time he handed me the roll without saying a word. Not as full of rage now, I noticed how scratchy the dirt was against my bare arms, but there was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of hearing a complaint come from my lips.

Back and forth I went doing my best to keep up with the others as the load came down layer by layer. An hour or so later I was cursing myself for not wearing long sleeves or bringing a hat. My arms were burning and littered with millions of tiny red scratches. I could feel my face and neck were also burnt from the heat of the sun. The shade of the new building kept calling out to me, but I’d take one look at that man, who said I couldn’t do this job, and despite my desire for rest I’d walk back for more.

Finally, the last rolls of sod were removed from the trailer and I sat in the shade, gulping water, exhausted but full of gratification.

That man never spoke another word to me, but as I collected my pay he gave a smile and nod of his head. I knew I was going to hurt for several days, but I left the newly sod bank with more than just aches and cash. I left with the satisfaction of knowing I’d proven myself and perhaps next time a girl came to a “boy” job that man would think twice about his assumptions.