Most people who enter the turkey plant emerge in one of two states: complete abhorrence of turkeys, or more appreciative of the men and women who work in this country and send money to relatives in Spanish-speaking countries. Before entering the guts (sorry) of the plant, a person must be armed with Goggles of Safety, the Protective Lab Coat of Wisdom, a hair net, and rubber boots fit for duck hunting. Given the processing of live animals and food, security is strict. (As management, however, one must guard against the Heisenberg effect – everything may be running smoothly because someone is there watching it. Although that’s not really what Heisenberg was talking about, since he was describing the unpredictability of conjugate quantities of particles like position and momentum as opposed to the effect of physical measurement… sorry, what?) The smell of a turkey plant is cold and vaguely pleasant, given the association with holiday dinner, and yet laced with an undercurrent of unprocessed food waste.