Dulce De Leche

I push open the cooler door. It swings wide and hits the opposite wall with a plastic bang. Cold air rushes forth. I zip up my company jacket. I stand and wait for a couple seconds then peer out through the window in the cooler door. I see Ricardo pulling on his jacket and rushing across the warehouse floor. I signal him with my hand to hurry up. He nods and picks up the pace. I turn around and wait for him. The door opens, and he steps inside.

"Sorry it took me so long," he says, "one of the ladies wanted me to bring them something."

I hand him the digital inventory gun. He takes it in his hand and inspects it's controls.

"I've already done most of the inventory, but I've saved a portion in here for you," I tell him.

The two of us walk through the cooler. Skids line the aisles. Very little floor space is available.

"You're counting the last aisle near the back," I tell him, "It's going to be tricky counting. It's quite tight back there."

"How do I turn this on?" he asks holding the gun up into the overhead light of the cooler.

I point toward a button on the control panel.

"Push the on/off button, then select 'inventory' from the menu," I reply.

He takes it in his hand and performs the functions while looking into the digital display.

"Okay," he asks, "what do I do now?"

"You have to get the product code numbers," I reply, "and you do that by either scanning the items with the laser or manually typing the codes in on the keypad. Whatever's most convenient. Then you type in the quantity."

"Okay. Got it."

"Remember, only product with pink tags. Pink tags are for production items, and that's what we're counting today."

"Pink tags only," Ricardo repeats with a point of his finger, "Got it."

We reach the last aisle of the cooler. Skids line the floor from one end to the other. Very little space is available.

"I am supposed to count that?" Ricardo asks in disbelief.

"Yes. I told you it was tight."

"Oh man."

We begin to walk through the maze of pallets. We balance on the edges of the skids, and slide between the stacks of cases. It's a deceptively dangerous task. One misstep or a fall and a broken ankle will result. Ricardo punches in the code numbers and piece counts, as he moves along. He cranes his neck around impossible angles reading the pallet tags looking for ones coloured pink.

"Nice and cold in here too isn't it?" I ask.

"I don't like cold," Ricardo replies.

We reach the end of the aisle. Ricardo looks around searchingly.

"I think this side is done," he says.

I point to a skid in a corner.

"Oh," he says moving toward it.

Ricardo begins punching in the code number. He reads the product description aloud.

"Dulce de Leche."

"It's a new product," I tell him, "liquid caramel centre with a 70% cocoa truffle shell."

"Milk candy," he replies.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Milk candy," he repeats, "that's what Dulce de Leche means in Spanish."

I laugh aloud.

"That's funny," I tell him.

"What's funny?"

"There's nothing 'milk' about that chocolate. It's 70% cocoa. They've just given it that name because it's semi alliterative and sounds fancy."

Ricardo grins and shrugs his shoulders. He's a new employee, so he doesn't want to say anything negative about the company. He's not comfortable enough.

"In Spanish, Dulce de Leche really has nothing to with chocolate either. It's something completely different," he says.

"Figures," I reply.

Ricardo finishes punching in the information. He scans the racking some more.

"I think you've got it all on this side," I tell him, "let's move on to the other side."

"Okay! Other side!"

Ricardo climbs around and through the skids. He fumbles with the inventory gun. I lean against a skid, and wait for him to continue.