The next summer, I wanted something better than
standing in a crowd every morning hoping for a day’s work.
My opportunity came when the hiring boss announced one
morning that the Pepsi plant in Long Island City was looking
for porters to clean the floors, full-time for the summer. I
raised my hand. I was the only one who did.
The porters at the Pepsi plant were all black. The workers
on the bottling machines were all white. I didn’t care. I just
wanted work for the summer, and I worked hard, mopping up
syrup and soda that had spilled from overturned pallets.
At summer’s end, the boss told me he was pleased with my
work and asked if I wanted to come back. “Yes,” I answered,
“but not as a porter.” He agreed, and next summer I worked
on the bottling machine and as a pallet stacker, a more
prestigious and higher-paying job. It wasn’t exactly the Selma
March, but I integrated a bottling machine crew.
What does this story reveal about Powell as a person?
He liked working for Pepsi more than he liked working for Coke.
He learned that if he worked hard, people would be surprised.
He was a hard worker and overcame some racial boundaries.
He told people what he should be doing to get what he wanted.
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