The effects of an early morning routine

Morning — Gene Amole, the late Rocky Mountain News columnist, began his first column in 1977 with this single-word opening.

The early-bird journalist described the many advantages of rolling up his sleeves and getting to work early, beating the crowd. He spoke about the quiet solitude the morning offers and how the wonderful coffee aroma in the floor below made its way up to his desk.

Mornings are like this for everyone across the produce industry, don’t you think?

I suppose it’s also common for many occupations. Somehow, I’ve always seemed to have a job that required me to set my alarm for “early-thirty.”

As a kid, my paper route was a precursor for what followed in fresh produce. I’d pedal my bike, draped with canvas bags, heavy-laden as I balanced my way through quiet, dimly lit streets.

Not many years later, the morning call beckoned in the grocery store where I began my career.

Filling in for the night floor-maintenance crew, I found solace taking my last break over the produce loft, where I scurried up the ladder to the store rooftop. On these summer mornings I’d drink milked-down coffee while watching the sunrise. It was a nice alternative from the crowded, smoke-filled break room.

A year or so later, I was trying my hand at setting up the produce wet rack. We had large, floor-to-ceiling storefront windows. It was my personal goal to have everything trimmed, rotated, filled, level and clean by the time the first rays of sun radiated into the store, which seemed to make the fresh vegetables shine like so many jewels in a case.

The same early morning impressions hit while pulling pallets of melons or other seasonal produce to display on the store front sidewalk. There’s something about the workout combination of sore muscles and catching your breath in the cool morning air that’s both invigorating and satisfying.

As a produce specialist, so many morning memories abound — especially when setting up a new store or remodel.

The numerous all-night shifts seemed to conclude with the entire produce set crew sitting on pallets or empty milk crates on the back dock as the wee small hours morphed into morning. Although exhausted, we entertained one another, regaling stories of crazy or funny happenings within the company, mostly about colorful employee characters that we knew.

At my produce buying desk, I always tried to arrive extra early. This gave me precious time to walk the warehouse and inspect slots of concern, as well to get a head start on my purchase orders. I got more things done in that one golden hour than the rest of the day combined, it seemed.

It was nice to bask in the sunrise warmth on the dock as well, wolfing down spicy breakfast burritos from the affectionately regarded "roach coach” food truck, taking brief breaks with the receiving crew.

Even in my current job, now peddling potatoes, mornings still beckon. I can’t count how many times I’ve had to rise at “dark-thirty,” stopping at friendly truck stops while driving hundreds of miles to my destinations.

Some weeks it was in Nebraska, other times it was in Northern California, Kansas, Montana, Wyoming or perhaps through the Dakotas. During these longer “windshield time” drives, one constant was listening to my ’70s Spotify mix and watching the sky morph through brilliant hues of orange and red until the morning sun washed over the landscape.

That was always quality travel time, thinking about everything — or nothing.

No matter the time of the year, in all sorts of weather, it always brings me back to those early mornings of setting the produce wet rack, hustling to be done on time for store opening, or the mornings of peddling my paper route. In both cases, customers were not far away, themselves getting ready for the day.

The late Bill McCartney, football coach at Colorado University, once summed it up. He said if you don’t have enough time in your life, get up one hour earlier than usual. That usually fixes things, for both work and a better peace of mind.

Especially in The Produce Aisle.
Armand Lobato works for the Idaho Potato Commission. His 40 years of experience in the produce business span a range of foodservice and retail positions.