I awoke with a little grin this morning knowing that today Dave and I would give our notice, possibly pick our final berries and end the day at a campfire, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, sharing a BBQ fit for a king, tiramisu fit for a queen, a fountain of cheap wine and a dam of stories with our gorgeous friends the Kiwi’s.
The day started out like any other. 7 am wake up call, a quick pee, teeth brushing and breakfast on the run – that is once we got Jhana started. At the berry farm we were greeted by our new workmate, Pommy Number 3. You heard correctly, a new workmate at the farm where there is only enough berries for us to pick every second day. I guess Mr and Mrs berry weren’t happy with only earning $140 per week of the un-drivable bus they rent out to pickers who do not have their own transport to get to-and-from the farm – that must be why they hired another poor sod willing to pay the excruciating rent of $70 per week to sleep on an abandoned bus. Could Mr. and Mrs. Berry stoop any lower? Surely not?
With all this taken in stride we gathered our numbers, jugs and boxes and headed for G rows. Ipod in, jugs tucked neatly into my belt I prepared to mount row 6, a row known for producing at least 7 jugs of berries on a 2 day pick. To the dulcet tunes of Feist I began to pick. Half way through the row I glanced down at my jugs to see a few sad looking berries squinting back at me. Where had all the berries gone? After another row I checked my jugs again and the situation was not looking any better. A shared my observation with my fellow pickers. Kiwi Helen a Cheshire cat smile joked that Mr. and Mrs. might have secretly hired other pickers to pick on the days we have off… and that they are timing each of us to see which group is fasted and which needs to be fired… We all had a bit of a chuckle about it and then quick looked behind us to make sure no one was watching.
Our pick in G was depressingly low so we decided to commiserate over a cup of coffee on the roof of the pom’s bus. From there it was on to ABC rows for the final leg of the picking day. Dave and I were on B, Kiwi Helen and New Pom on A (Kiwi Ryan had been sentence to a day of Mr. Berry and laying pipes for the new water system) and the Pommy lasses in C. B was the same miserable berry haul as G and we were starting to feel very good about leaving our jobs.
After finishing B in record time, we jumped into A to help Helen finish fast so we could get to the national park early. About halfway dorwn the row I could hear Mrs. Berry screaming, “Gerr awfff those rows, gerr awwwff!!!” and then the scream of the tires to announcing her departure. I figured I had better gerr awwff!!.
Back at the shed we were greeted by Mr. Berry who smiled at us for the first time in weeks. He then said in the calmest, sweetest voice, “I would like you two to finish up today, the season is winding up and we just don’t need you here”. When I asked why he said just as calmly, “Personal reasons”. When I asked with a little grin of my own, “And what personal reasons would they be”, he smirked and chanted “I don’t have to tell you.” Knowing quite well that he didn’t, and knowing that there was nothing left to say, we organised a time to pick up our final cheque and left the farm.
Nothing about today bothered me until we received a call the Kiwi’s…
After we left Mr. Berry told the Kiwi’s that they would have to stay back, that the farm was getting busier so they would not be able to have a day off for another few days.
Nothing about today bothered me until the Kiwi’s called to cancel our camping trip.
So here I am back at Top of the Town, sitting next to a bottle of New Zealand wine and a cheese platter brought as an offer of condolence from the Kiwi’s, not sure how to tell them that no matter how much I will cherish them tomorrow, today I don’t feel much like being friends.