Memories of Past Employment Part 2, or, College Students and Sociopaths

The best job I ever had--current career excluded, of course--was working on the slime line in the salmon canneries in Alaska. I spent 5 summers on Bristol Bay (Anchorage), in Excursion Inlet (near Juneau), and on Kodiak. By the end of my 3rd summer, there wasn't a job in the Freezer I couldn't do; I even had a pretty good idea of a vast array of the other jobs in various areas of the plant: the cannery, the egg house, retorts, the warehouse. I loved it; I actually look back on the craziness of processing fish with a twisted fondness that I can't explain. Some of the most extremely beautiful and incredibly ugly scenery I've ever experienced, depending on which cannery I was working in. I've been to some of the most incredible beach parties and bon fires on some stunning beaches. I've seen pods of beluga whales swim by as they chased the schools of salmon to feed on.


The work was hard. Brutal, even. The New York Times ran a story about working in the Alaskan fish industry and included the statement that the only ones who would apply for such work were either college students or sociopaths.

I've had tendonitis, "cannery cough," "fish flu,"... all the wacky and strange illnesses that befall those who work in a fish processing plant. Now I realize most of those illnesses where probably all just simple exhaustion, but we had fond names for them, depending on the symptoms. I've had more fish eyes, hearts, and sperm sacs thrown at me by other processors than I care to count; I've tasted fish fresh from the boat in countless sorts of preparations even though I have never really liked seafood at all. Smoked, baked, broiled, boiled, raw... you name it, I've tried it. I mean, it's the freshest and best possible fish to eat, so I decided to try it all. I've had roe fresh out of the fish, salted and brined, as well as produced as caviar. I used to even be able to tell you the difference between "roe" and "caviar" though I couldn't now even if you paid me.


I've been chased off the processing floor because a bear walked into the plant and I've been stuck in my bunk house because a bear was sitting not twenty feet from the door.

My first summer up there, my roommate was Yup'ik (one of the native Alaskan tribes); I picked up some of the language even. I have been in the sweat lodges with the natives (something I do NOT recommend...those fuckers are SCORCHING HOT!!), and I've even tried seal, due to the fact that the roommate kept a side of salted, preserved seal meat under his bed, which gave the room a smell that you cannot possibly imagine. Seal jerky... not so pleasant. Tough. Salty. Fishy. Nasty.


To this day, I continue to dedicate prime real estate of my brain to being able to recognize the 5 kinds of Alaskan salmon on sight (King aka Chinook; Red aka Sockeye; Silver aka coho; pink aka humpy, and chum aka dog) by thier external appearance as well as the color of the meat, and I can also tell if you if the fish that you are presenting me with is male or female..providing the fish is still intact. I can't walk and chew gum at the same time, but I can tell you about Alaskan salmon!


It was the hardest I ever worked, and it was the most fun I've ever had on a job.