Survivor Literacy

Ditch Please- No, Really. I’m Begging. Pretty pretty Please.

We were not required to work the weekends, but the work that needs done on a ranch doesn’t just stop needing done on the weekend, and it felt tense at home, so I mostly worked.

Three weeks went by, and I hadn’t gotten a paycheck. I really didn’t want to have to ask about it. I didn’t want to be nosy. I didn’t want to be needy. I wanted to pay my dues, and accept my place, and “man up.”

I also wanted to buy cigarettes.

I asked The Old Witch, who had hooked me up with the job, if she knew how it worked. She looked smug, and told me I’d have to put on my big-girl panties and go ask The Rancher.

I finally screwed up my courage to ask, and did not allow any micro-expressions of shock when the answer was that we don’t get paid until the end of the season.

Well Ain’t That A Ditch?

The average work day was 11 hours. She paid $35/day. That’s around $3.18/hour. I loved working on an all-girl crew (I hate that I was a TERF). I loved the job, and everything I learned there. I loved paying my dues, and feeling like I was really earning my way. I loved the bonding, the storytelling, the shared respect.

I wasn’t going to argue about it. I can only imagine how difficult it was to run an all-women ranch in that climate. I didn’t want to be whiny or ungrateful. I wanted to support what she had built.

I didn’t love working for 3.18/ hour, but I had been told for years and years that “we do work because it needs doing, not because we’re only concerned about what’s in it for us.” I would have hated myself if I said anything. I would have felt like everything my family had said about me was true.

I could NOT let it be true.

So, I panicked internally about how the amount of money I was making didn’t even amount to enough to count as an income, and about how it did not provide me with the autonomy that I needed. I accepted on a deep level that this was a reflection of my worth, evidence of my value.

I didn’t dare ask what other hands got paid. I didn’t have their experience. I didn’t have their skill. I couldn’t handle have to have that pointed out to me as though I was an arrogant prick.

So, I just kept working.

My mom had run a crew of men for a Texas construction company, and I couldn’t navigate getting a paycheck at an all-woman operation. Noted.

Those Ditches Ganged-Up On Me

Over the course of that summer/fall season I broke everything.

Ok, maybe not everything, but plenty of things. At the time, I really felt that I was just a nitwit, but I realize looking back that that’s just the way of things on a ranch. Everything gets used for as long as you can repair it and put it back in action.

So, things will always be breaking down.

The Rancher was incredibly patient about my oopsies. She never yelled at me, and I think that made it even worse, because each time something broke down I really felt like I had it coming. No wonder I was only worth $3.18/hr.

She did teach me how to fix each thing as it came up. I learned so much, and as a result, my problem solving skills really advanced.

There was one day, after I’d been promoted from rake to mower (talk about fun!!!!!), that I’d been given the old truck to get to the field I was assigned. I got out there, and I got my tractor stuck in a ditch I couldn’t get back out of. I walked to the truck to go head back and get help, and I got the truck stuck in another ditch. The hand that I had the super-duper girl crush on happened to be working there that day, and she told me to grab the four wheeler (which had been assigned to somebody else) and go back to the main house for assistance.

I got the four wheeler wedged in another ditch.

These ditches were getting on my last nerve.

So, Girl Crush got in the other truck and drove over to save me. She was trying with all of her might to not laugh at me, which just made it worse, but there was no running from this. If I ran, I’d probably just get stuck in a ditch.

We went back through and pulled them each out, one-by-one, and that took a pretty good chunk of the afternoon. When we all came in at the end of the day, nobody was saying anything, and they were all carefully avoiding eye contact with me.

They were avoiding eye contact with each other too, but two of them accidentally made eye content, and a tenuously restrained snicker escaped from one of their faces, which was all it took to set off a communal fit of laughter that was compounded anytime somebody accidentally made eye contact.

Of course I was embarrassed, and I felt super sheepish, but there was no avoiding how funny it was, and I ended up laughing pretty uncontrollably right along with them. By the end, I was mostly reassured that they’ve all had days like that. They explained to me that I’ve never worked these fields before to know where the ditches run, and until the hay is actually cut, you can’t see them. I got some pointers about what to watch for, and The Rancher said she should have done a better job of pointing those out to me, because there was no way for me to know.

When it was happening, I was certain that I would be fired on that day. I couldn’t imagine my boss not being completely fed up with me. I had prepared myself for the sharpest of criticisms, and was preparing myself to accept every single word of it. I was prepared for the emotional dysregulation that I was sure had to follow. It just never did.

The days got cooler, and sundown came earlier. They started focusing their attention on the round-up, which I wasn’t invited to help with. My feelings were hurt, but I tried to behave with dignity and respect. I really was grateful for the opportunity I’d been given, even though my favorite aunt snort-laughed when I told her what I was doing, and implied that my name didn’t belong in the same sentence as hard work.

The season was ending whether I wanted it or not, and although I had slowly fallen in love with this little ranch, it didn’t feel the same about me.

I also discovered that The Rancher didn’t really pay AT the end of the season, it was more like AFTER the end of the season. I ended up having to ask several times until I felt like a complete nag just for expecting the money I had sweated for. I didn’t dare act indignant, but it definitely felt as though the Ranch was losing it’s patience with me for continuing to ask.

The cattle round up lasted 3 weeks, and she didn’t cut the checks until after that. By the time I got paid, The Ranch had definitely taken a tone of “Thank you for your time, and please don’t come back.” I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong, so it made more sense that there was something about me that just WAS wrong.

I was going to do everything in my power to find that something, and fix it.

Meanwhile, Back at the Homestead

While I was waiting through the entire haying season, (and well after), to get paid, there were lots of comments made at home. I remember her mentioning that funds were running low, “especially since they had decided to provide for an extra person.” She pointed out that he was getting less business since then as well. She liked to bring out the big weights of “How long do you think we can go on like this?” and “I’ve always supported your fantasy, but we have to be realistic,” and those were just the parts I overheard.

Of course, none of these things were said in an equal conversation. They were said near me, but not to me. She would invoke mistakes from their past using code words that only made sense to them. When he wasn’t around she started to talk to me about his depression, which nobody brought up before, and how it seemed to be returning.

She said “I guess you weren’t the fix for everything after all.”

I guess not.

Explore The Series Archive