Nobody at Hanson Acres saw a labour problem coming until the weekend of Donna’s birthday, back in March, when Trina came home from university to celebrate with her mom and tell the family about the great summer job she had landed.
Dale wasn’t nearly as thrilled as his daughter must have hoped. Instead of asking for details he’d said, “Job? In Winnipeg? You didn’t say anything about looking for any job in Winnipeg. I thought you were coming home to work. On the farm. Like last summer.”
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When Trina argued that a “real” summer job, interning with a grain company, would help her future career, Donna stopped her husband from explaining “real” work, or lecturing about how a successful “career” would start with giving people notice if she wasn’t going to work for them.
“It really will be good for her resumé, honey,” Donna had said, trying to calm Dale down.
Not that he didn’t care about Trina’s career, but Dale and Donna Hanson and their son Jeff were planning to put 2,000 acres of canola in the ground at Hanson Acres, and those acres were going to need to be swathed. Not to mention the help they’d need to pour cement pads for six new bins, replace the leg belting in the seed-cleaning plant, tear down the old shed that was attracting rats at the back of the yard, and spray 6,000 acres. Probably twice.
There was no way to get through the summer “to do” list without an extra hand.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Jeff said. “Elaine and Grandpa can help out.”
Nobody said anything, but of course everyone at the table knew that Jeff’s wife Elaine had grown up in the city, and she was already busy enough looking after their two-year old. And Dale’s father Ed just didn’t have the energy he’d had in the past. Dale remembered last August. After only a short nine-hour shift on the swather, Ed had been ready to call it a day and head back to his condo in town.
After letting the problem stew for a couple of weeks, Dale sat down in early April and wrote out a “help wanted” ad. He’d left the ad sitting out on the table while he addressed the envelope. Then Ed wandered in for coffee. “What’s this all about?” Ed had asked. “You planning to replace me? Time for a new model already?”
“We’re not replacing you, Dad,” Dale said. He’d been ready for this question, but he’d hoped he’d have more time before he actually had to talk to Ed. Or maybe Jeff would handle Ed — Jeff was always wanting to take more responsibility around the farm. “We need to think long term. Start training someone who’ll be around a few years.”
“And I won’t, I suppose,” Ed glared. “Geez. I can’t work any cheaper. You don’t even pay me.”
“We thought you might want a break once in a while. You can spend more time with your buddies in town. Maybe even have time for golf.”
“Golf? You think I’m about to take up golf?” Things went downhill from there, until Dale ripped up the ad and threw it into the garbage. “Fine, then. But don’t come around telling me how much your back hurts after a long day on the swather.”
Dale didn’t bring up the issue again, and Ed didn’t say anything either, but Donna pointed out that Ed had started to jog every time he crossed the yard when someone was watching. Ed looked like a slow-motion sprinter when she called him in for lunch. And she’d found him hiding behind the caraganas, catching his breath after he’d insisted on unloading just as many bags of canola seed off the delivery truck as Jeff.
So nobody brought up the labour problem again until Jeff came to his father with a suggestion. At the end of April, Dale and his son were hunched in front of Jeff’s laptop, looking at the replies to the job ad Jeff had posted online. Dale had been sceptical, but when Jeff showed him the five replies to the ad, Dale had to admit, Jeff’s idea may not have been all bad.
“Hang on,” Dale said, squinting to see. “Two of these people emailed from the Phillipines. How did they even see this ad? How would they get here? Where would they live? Would they need work visas? And drivers licenses?”
“Yeah, that might get a bit complicated,” Jeff admitted.
“Would they even know how to run the swather?” Dale went on. “And what would they do
