Three grown women in overalls chat softly and amiably. They sit in the Gray Ghost (a 1985 Chevy Cargo Van with duct-taped windows), park in the shadows, and wait. They are Dumpster Divers all. And they are anxious for darkness to fall. Darkness is their element. Darkness is their time to dig.
The Warden holds "The Digger." (The Digger is a rake-hoe. It's shaped like a hoe, but it's actually a little rake - I want to call a spade a spade, after all. Maybe it has some special garden-y name. But even if it does, I will still call it a rake-hoe.) The Digger is one of the important tools of Dumpster Diving. It separates the garbage from the other garbage.
The Warden waits as the last load of garbage is emptied into the dumpster behind the Store That Shall Not Be Named. She picks her teeth with the pinky of her free hand. The employee re-enters the store. The lights go out. The doors are locked.
"All right, ladies. It's time," she says. They take out surgical gloves and snap them in place. "Let's roll." On the third attempt, the Gray Ghost jerks into staccato life and they roll and lurch toward their target dumpster. The Initiate mouths the Dumpster Code, ticking off each point on her fingers, taming the butterflies.