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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