“You want coffee, you put a quarter in there,” Peters told him, pointing to a can at one end of the table. He paused, looking at Luke. “Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the men on the day shift, then you can leave. Be back here at eight sharp tomorrow morning.”
The rest of the men turned out to be three burly guys, all in their twenties. They made Luke feel like a ninety-pound weakling. One of them, Mark, must have picked up on that because he said, “It’s not hard work. What we move and store or pull for shipping doesn’t weigh all that much, usually. You should be fine, once you get used to it.”
“I hope,” Luke replied, envisioning aching muscles by the end of his first day.
“You’ll do fine,” another of the men said.
At least they seem friendly. Luke smiled, then followed Peters back to the waiting room and left the warehouse, with Peters’ “Eight, sharp” ringing in his ears.
* * * *