THE TROUBLE WITH SOUR MILK
By Joy Saethre
“Candee, I’ve got great news!” said Dennis as he burst through the kitchen door. I turned from the hot stove and he kissed me with cold chapped lips. His Carhart overalls, parka, and gloves were dirty and he smelled like copper and aluminum pipe. Despite his tired appearance, his blue eyes seemed to twinkle in excitement. “Wait ‘till you hear…” was all he could mumble as he stripped down to his long underwear in the warm kitchen.
“Well hurry up and tell me. What’s the big news?” His excitement was contagious. I had no idea what he was excited about, but I hoped it really was good news. We needed a little bit of luck. I had recently been laid off from my job which also meant no more health insurance and our budget didn’t leave room for anything out of the ordinary or even an occasional night out for dinner.
As I fixed a plate for our five year old son, Dennis burst with his news. “Today at work Larry was telling me about some new business he’s in. He says he’s making a bundle and we’ll be getting in before too many people get involved and it gets saturated. We stand to make thousands of dollars! Candee, we are gonna be rich!”
The excitement I felt when he got home suddenly evaporated and left me with a pit of dread in my stomach. “What is it this time?” I asked wearily.
“Oh, I forget the name, some cosmetic company,” he said waving his fork in the air. “You make the product in your home and sell it back to the company. Larry says you can make a lot of money and you don’t have to do hardly a thing. There’s a meeting tonight. I think we should go.”
“We don’t have money for a babysitter.”
“Well, do you mind if I go?”
I just stared at him. Did it matter if I did? Even if I protested, he’d still go. I didn’t know all the details about this business, but I had a funny feeling about it.
I had fallen asleep on the couch when Dennis came home at midnight. My book lay upside down on the floor. My glasses were smudged and askew on my face. The late night news blared in the background and the table lamp glowed an eerie yellow light. Dennis was beaming. He pulled me off the couch by my wrist and then wrapped his arms about me in a bear hug. “This business is incredible! It’s so easy to do you won’t believe it. We’re going to be millionaires!”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down. Jeremy is asleep.” I escaped his grasp and returned to the lumpy couch as Dennis paced in front of me rubbing his hands together.
He explained, “Well, there’s this company called Rose Milk Products that sells you these culture packets that you mix with milk. After it’s sat awhile you scrape the cream off into envelopes and mail it to this other company called Roman Beauty Cosmetics. They pay you to produce this stuff. Now get this,” he paused for breath, “you get people under you and make a percentage off of their product too. Before long you don’t have to do anything but sit back and collect the dough. Some of these guys I met tonight were raking in the bucks!”
“Sounds like a scam. Nobody makes a lot of money doing nothing.”
“It’s not like you’re not doing something. You’re harvesting a crop,” he shouted with emphasis on the last word.
“Why don’t they just produce it themselves in a factory?”
“Because it’s cheaper to get people to do it in their homes. That way they don’t have to pay for any overhead. And they don’t really need a factory. You can do this in your own home!”
“What’s it good for?” I asked with anger. I was tired and I wasn’t like what I was hearing.
Dennis glared at me for a moment, but continued with delight. “You wouldn’t believe it. One of the speakers at this meeting was a doctor. He said he put that stuff right on his face and the wrinkles started to disappear. He’s 67 years old and you’d swear he was only in his 30’s. Another guy put it on his bald head and he’s now starting to grow hair.”
I laughed. “Oh come on Dennis. You don’t believe that malarkey do you?”
Dennis flushed deep red and his blue eyes bore into my face. “I’m telling you it’s true!” he shouted. “They claim this product is the miracle worker of the 90’s. The potential for this product is unlimited. Once other companies see what it can do, everyone will want it.” I laughed even harder.
“Why do you have to be so negative, Candee?” he said angrily. “Sometimes you just have to take chances and have a little faith. That’s probably why you can’t get hired any where. You’re too negative!”
I had to admit that Dennis did have a point. I had a tendency to be skeptical. But then again, none of the other projects we tried were ever successful either. I coughed back my laughter and looked away. I didn’t want to start a fight. “So how much is it?”
“Well,” he said hesitantly, his anger forgotten, “a small kit costs $2500.”
I gasped. “Dennis, where are we going to get that kind of money?”
“Well,” he drawled, “Didn’t you just pay off that VISA? It’s got a $2500 line of credit. We can use that.”
“I just canceled that card,” I wailed.
“Well, you can uncancel it. Can’t you? Since I’ll be at work, you’ll just have to call them tomorrow and tell them it was a mistake.”
I bit my lip to keep back the anger. On one hand, I didn’t want any part of this business. Deep down I felt it was a scam. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be the one that ruined our potential success. If it turned out that this business really was a golden opportunity, and we missed out, it would be all my fault. Besides, I enjoyed staying home with Jeremy and just being a wife and mother. It would be nice to not have to go back to work, that is if I ever found a job. Still, I couldn’t help the gnawing doubts that clung to the back of my mind like sticky fly paper.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I’m telling you we’ll make back the money. It’s a for sure thing. What can go wrong?”
Uh, huh. How many times had I heard that before? But I didn’t say another word.
The next evening Dennis informed me that he wanted me to meet Larry and his wife, Monica. He wanted to reassure me once and for all. He promised that we would have a good time.
We were greeted at the door by the perfect couple. They had their arms wrapped about each other in loving hugs and they were both smiling large plastic smiles. They ushered Jeremy downstairs to play with their little boy and we were shown to the kitchen.
We settled in swiveling plush velvet chairs around a large oak dining table. Monica offered chips and dip and then took orders for drinks just like a cocktail waitress. Larry pretended to be the bartender. He did a little jig with his hips and feet as he plopped ice cubes into glasses and whistled an irritating tune.
I was unnerved by Larry’s deceptively charming attitude, whereas Dennis seemed to enjoy it. When Larry joined everyone at the table, he and Dennis began to talk about work. Monica lit up a Marlboro Light, took a big drag, and then blew thick gray smoke through her nostrils. She reminded me of a big fire breathing dragon. The dragon lady. We made small talk about our children. It seemed to be the only thing we had in common. She was very opinionated. She had all the answers when it came to child rearing. I could only sit back and nod my head and occasionally throw in a line or two about Jeremy’s child antics. Of course Monica always had a bigger, better and funnier story about her son.
Then my heart sank when the conversation steered towards the new business. Larry boasted about the money he had already made from the company and even presented copies of checks to prove it. He showed Dennis the percentages he would make once he got others involved. Larry claimed that Dennis’s business would get so large that he wouldn’t have to produce the product any more. Dennis could retire. It was no wonder that Larry was eager to snatch Dennis. No more construction work. This work was so e-e-easy. Just mix the stuff, let it sit for a week and then mail it.
I remained silent throughout the presentation. Once in a while Monica would glance over at Dennis. His eyes appeared to be glazed over as he sat there in awe. I could swear I saw dollar signs appear in his pupils. Larry and Monica hovered above him like eager vultures. I sat rigidly in my chair, my arms folded, unsmiling.
“So why are you against this business?” Monica asked me in her high pitched voice.
Dennis and Larry stopped talking. The fancy grandfather clock in the living room seemed to tick loudly. They all stared at me accusingly as if I were on trial. The blood drained from my face as I stammered, “Well, I don’t know. Something just stinks about it.” I looked down at my glass and fidgeted with the corner of a paper napkin.
Finally Monica and Larry roared with laughter. “You got that right!” Monica quipped. “That’s the only drawback to this whole business. You have to put up with the smell. But honey with all the money you’ll be making, you won’t even notice the smell after awhile.” Everyone laughed some more, even Dennis. My cheeks flushed with fever. I wanted to crawl under the table. I tried to think of a good response, but none came.
“Is it too good to be true? Is that it? Too easy to make money?” she asked. I shrugged. “That’s it, isn’t it? Well, when the dough starts rolling in, you’ll thank us and your husband. At least he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” Monica, with her dragon fingers curled around a long cigarette patted Dennis on the back. Dennis’s face glowed. It took all of my strength to hold back a flood of tears. A minute felt like an eternity. But finally, they left me alone. They had Dennis. That’s all that mattered. He eagerly wrote out $2500 with a money management check drawn on the VISA I had canceled. It was my job to call the bank in the morning and uncancel the card. But I had already decided that I wasn’t going to do it. I figured if Dennis wanted this business that bad, he could take care of it himself.
A few days later, the culture packets arrived. I was surprised and angry. I thought for sure the check would not go through. Dennis must have taken care of the account. But I didn’t ask him about it for fear of starting a fight. Instead I decided to give in and help him with the project. After all, I wanted our money back!
Unfortunately, we didn’t have a basement or a family room. In fact, we didn’t have hardly any room in the two bedroom one-story duplex. So our business landed on the kitchen table, right in the center of the room. According to the instructions, the product had to develop in a darkened room. So we taped black plastic garbage bags to all the windows in the kitchen and living room.
Next we had to fill each of the 100 mason jars with Vitamin D milk and mix in a culture packet. Dennis was dressed in a white painting smock, his short brown hair sticking up in odd places, his eyes glazed over with excitement. He would carefully tear open a culture packet and mix each jar of milk as if it contained a delicate trinket. The packets looked and smelled like the dry yeast packages I bought at the supermarket to make bread. Those packets only cost me 50 cents. I couldn’t believe each of these packets cost $25 a piece! Then every few minutes he would take a break and do a little happy dance and chug a beer.
I didn’t share his enthusiasm. His every movement irritated me. When his happy dance accidentally bumped into me, I snapped. I was in charge of cutting the cheese cloth and covering each jar and securing with a rubber band. Each jar felt like a chore. I’d get annoyed when the cloth wouldn’t cut right or the rubber bands would break. I especially hated the smell. Larry and Monica weren’t kidding when they said the product stunk. It seemed like a thin vapor of a skunk like smell hung in the stuffy kitchen. And it annoyed me even more that it didn’t seem to bother Dennis at all.
Supposedly after a week’s time, the cream would form on top of the cheese cloth and all we had to do was scrape each one into an envelope and mail it back to the company for payment. I crossed my fingers and hoped nothing went wrong.
It just so happened that on day 5, Dennis had to go out of town for his job. So he wasn’t present that early morning when I was awakened by the wild frantic screams of Jeremy running into my bedroom. “Mom! Mom! There’s a monster in the kitchen!” He dove under my covers and refused to come out.
I had no idea what had scared him. But I had to admit that the stench of the rotten milk seemed to have gotten stronger. Not only did it smell like a dead skunk, but the sulfurous odor of rotten eggs invaded my nostrils and brought tears to my eyes. As I lay there contemplating whether or not to investigate, I noticed a few black spots on the ceiling. Then a few more joined them. I looked about the room with my hands over my nose and mouth and noticed a few horseflies buzzing around.
My heart thumped loudly in my ears as I threw on my robe and entered the hallway. Again more flies. Flies in winter? When I entered the kitchen, I nearly collapsed. Thousands of flies hung from the ceiling. The remains of last night’s dinner scattered on the counter were covered with huge black moving mounds. There didn’t seem to be any flies on the jars of milk, but they were everywhere else. Had the flies grown from the cultured milk?
A few seconds was all I needed. I had seen enough. I ran to the bedroom, grabbed Jeremy, and ran out into the cold and dismal morning. I inhaled the cool crisp air and then I let out a scream. “Damn that Dennis!”
Jeremy sat on the wet porch shaking in his furry puppy slippers. I paced with angry strides in the inch deep snow in my barefeet and cursed under my breath. I was not only furious, but embarrassed about the atrocity that invaded my home. What would people think?
“Mommy, I’m cold.”
I quit pacing and faced my shivering son. We couldn’t remain out here forever. “Oh all right. Let’s go.” We tramped to the neighbors and rang the doorbell.
“Oh Candee,” said Mrs. Miller when she opened her door. Her eyebrows arched up in surprise. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes,” I said trying to hide my anger. “We have a bit of a pest problem in our house and I need to use your phone if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, of course,” she said with a wave of her hand. I saw the telephone and book in the living room. Without giving too many details to satisfy Mrs. Miller’s curiosity, I was able to get an exterminator to come to my home within the next half hour.
Mrs. Miller just stared in disbelief at us. “Well, I guess it must be pretty serious. I’ve never seen you like this before…”
“If you don’t mind,” I cut in, “I’m not interested in discussing this. Could you watch Jeremy for just a bit? Thanks.”
I went back outside and waited for the exterminator in my somewhat warmer car. I had suffered the final humiliation. Once the story circulated, I would be the laughing stock of the neighborhood. I should have put my foot down to begin with. Well, Dennis was going to pay for this now.
An hour later the exterminator emerged from the house of flies and tore off his gas mask.
“Well, lady,” he said peering into the car and scratching the back of his head, “They’re all dead. Deader than a door nail. Made sure of that,” he smiled as he proudly tapped his canister of poisonous death. “But, you got one helluva mess to clean up inside. If you want, I could do that for ya for an additional fee…”
I was going to accept, but then I thought better. “No thanks.” I smiled. “I’ve already delegated that job to somebody.”
“Okay. It’s your house. By the way, what were ya doin’ with all that stuff…”
“Don’t ask. By the way, can I borrow your boots?” The bug man looked puzzled until I stepped out of the car. He looked down at my feet. “Oh ya of course. Caught ya by surprise did they?” He chuckled as he removed them. I blushed, snatched his boots and threw them over my cold feet. I left the bug man wriggling his stocking toes on the wet pavement.
Crunch! Crunch! Thank God for boots! I ran to my bedroom. Hurriedly I cleaned off a portion of my bed and dresser and changed into some clothes. But I left the exterminator’s boots on. I wasn’t about to let the filthy bugs touch my nice shoes. Then I quickly packed a few things into two big suitcases and left the house. I returned the bug man’s boots, paid him and retrieved my son from the nosey Mrs. Miller.
“Boy, is Daddy gonna be mad at you,” my son said. He couldn’t resist a peek inside the house.
“Well, that’s too bad! I’m a lot madder. Now get in the car.” He scrambled into the back seat, I revved the engine, and the car screeched out of the driveway.
Later that evening, I called Dennis from a budget motel room.
“What the hell happened?” he screamed.
I grinned into the phone. Dennis wasn’t going to get the best of me this time. I sweetly explained that I was not coming home until he cleaned up all the mess. He complained. He made excuses. He insisted I help. But I held firm, then I hung up.
That night I watched the news on an old black and white TV. When the report came on about Rose Milk Company, I could swear my heart stopped beating. The reporter announced that the Company had been banned in seven other states and the company’s claims were being investigated by the Attorney General. The US Postal Service was also concerned that the cultures being sent through the mail posed a possible health threat. My blood ran cold.
With trembling fingers, I picked up the phone and dialed. “Dennis…” Pause. “Did you see the news?” Silence. “ I hope you’re happy.” Pause. “Well, answer me, damn it.”
“Candee, they’re not out of business yet. There’s still a chance…”
“Are you dreamin’ or what?”
“Listen to me. I’ll be mailing the first produce tomorrow. We’ll see what happens. I figure with our first batch we should be able to get our money back. I promise, I won’t do it any more after this. Will you come back? I cleaned the house.”
“Does the house still stink?”
“I guess the smell isn’t going to go away until I get rid of the product. At least there aren’t any more flies.”
“I’ll come back tomorrow…when the product is gone!” I slammed down the phone.
It was a week later. The product had been shipped and we waited impatiently for our first check. I was returning home from a job interview when a faint and familiar odor assaulted my nose as I stepped out of the car. The odor became stronger as I neared the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Inside the box a familiar manila envelope peeked out. It couldn’t be! I held my breath as I cautiously pulled it out. My mouth dropped open. A note on the front said, “Return to sender. Undeliverable.” Our precious product could not be mailed! Also inside the mailbox was a letter from the U.S. Court. Rose Milk Products had filed bankruptcy. Despite the chill in the air, I stood at the end of our driveway overheating. $2500 down the drain! I was going to kill Dennis.
But I didn’t get the chance. Dennis came home early that afternoon and announced sadly that he had been laid off. I was too tired to beat him.
Just when the gloom of the business disaster had passed and we had put that experience behind us, we received another letter from the company. Dennis was still at work and I was tempted to just throw it away unread. But curiosity got the better of me. I read the letter in astonishment. Then I laughed so hard, tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe our good fortune. And then I decided that this was going to be my little secret. Dennis was never going to know.
It said: “Your check would not clear our bank. We have been notified that your account has been canceled.” And like party confetti, I ripped the money management check and the pieces floated slowly to the floor.
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