Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Diary of a Factory Worker
13:00
Mike: How's your availability this weekend?
Steve: Depends whether or not I'm working. They gave me a job last Thursday, but have yet to give me any shifts. Here, I'll call them again.
Which I do, and get an answering machine. This may or may not be progress, since in previous attempts I have, rather than getting the lady in charge of scheduling (we'll call her "Dionne"), I've gotten some guy ("Dale") who isn't in charge of shift scheduling, but who has always dutifully agreed to pass my message along. This has never resulted in any actual calls back, mind you, while the message I leave on Dionne's answering machine *does* result in a call back. . . from Dale.
Dale: When are you available to start work?
(I had answered this question last Thursday at the new employee orientation session, the answer being "immediately".)
Steve: Um, any time. I can start at three, if you want me to.
Dale: Could you?
13:15
Exit shower.
14:40
Having eaten breakfast and packed lunch (two bananas and four cheddar, barbecue sauce, and red pepper - in response to the impassioned please of my sister, who periodically feels the need to save me from myself, I omit my other planned ingredient, garlic powder - sandwiches), I depart for work, which is conveniently located across the street.
14:45
Arriving at work, I enter the lunchroom.
"Hairnet!" yells the woman sitting at the table, who I soon learn is the one they call "Karen". The yelling is in reference, obviously, to hairnets, or rather the lack of them on my head. I am holding one in my hand, but I hadn't yet put it on, since I'm told that the use of hairnets is mandatory to avoid contaminating product, and there is relatively little production that occurs in the lunchroom. Apparently this is one of those policies that has broken its shackles and overpowered its creator, like that guy with the bolts sticking out of his neck.
I put on the hairnet and am assigned to a machine, along with a gentleman named Tyler. A woman named Mandy is assigned to train me. This is, obviously, very unfortunate for her, though she has no way of knowing this at the time.
15:00
Tyler, Mandy, and I approach our assigned machine. The machine spits out bucket lids (this factory deals primarily in buckets) into which one of the people on the machine - this turns out to be Tyler - inserts rubber gaskets. My role is to take the lids from Tyler, examine them for flaws, and, when enough are accumulated, box them.
Mandy explains all of this to me. Because I am both hard of hearing and wearing earplugs, I do not hear what she is saying. It actually takes me a while to even realize that she is talking to me. As it turns out, this does not matter.
15:15
Steve: What sort of flaws should I be looking for?
Tyler: It really doesn't matter. Just go through the motions so the supervisors think you're doing your job.
15:30
The first box is complete, and it falls to me to tape it up. Unfortunately, this involves the use of a tape gun.
Pop quiz:
KRYPTONITE is to SUPERMAN as TAPE GUNS are to
(a) tape
(b) canola
(c) Steve
(d) the Great Barrier Reef.
As always, the correct answer is (c). I have an inexplicable amount of trouble with tape guns, and tonight is no exception. At one point, I tape my sleeve to the box. I am not making this up.
"It takes a while to get the hang of it," says Karen helpfully as she walks by.
15:45
I have "Don't Let it Get You Down", by Neil Young, stuck in my head.
16:05
Tyler has spent the last four years working at this factory. I have spent the last five in University. Over the course of our conversation, it becomes clear that he has a better handle on his life than I have on mine. This would be a sobering thought if I allowed it to become one, so I change the subject.
16:45
Now stuck in my head: "Bad Moon Rising", by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
16:50
Excitement! Time to switch machines. Tyler goes off to parts unknown, while I go off to be trained, by the long-suffering (well, at least two hours) Mandy, in the art of putting metal handles on five gallon buckets.
17:15
What an excellent machine!
17:50
Now stuck in my head: "Let it Ride", by Bachman-Turner Overdrive. Except not the BTO version - the Guess Who's version, from their "Running Back Thru [sic] Canada" album.
18:07
Note to self: when you get home, change your MSN name to "I [heart] putting metal handles on five gallon buckets".
18:09
Note to self: you hate emoticons, remember?
18:10
Note to self: shit.
18:33
Now stuck in my head: "Patterns", by Simon & Garfunkel.
18:50
Time to change machines again. I bid an almost tearful farewell to this one as Mandy leads me off to learn how to put plastic handles on four litre buckets. This, as it turns out, is nowhere near as much fun.
I arrive at the machine - which basically shoots out buckets into a big tray, while another worker (whose name, I learn from reading the sign-in sheet, is Wes) and I fish them out and put handles on them. Wes and I do not exchange a single word our entire time together.
19:14
"Closing Time", Leonard Cohen (not to be confused with that utterly terrible song of the same name by Semisonic).
19:38
Revelation: you know that part at the beginning of Avril Lavigne's "Sk8tr [sic] Boi [sic]" where she whines "He was a boy / She was a girl / Can I make it any more obvious?"? Well, that's actually not a bad line. I mean, don't get me wrong: Avril Lavigne is still a talentless and obnoxious shit, but that line exhibits some level of humour, even self-deprecation.
20:20
Wes goes on his break, and is temporarily replaced by another gentleman. He and I also do not exchange a single word.
20:29
Going through my head: "If You're Happy and You Know It (Clap Your Hands)", by, I assume, some extremely depressed sadist.
20:54
I go on my second break (what do you mean "what happened to the first one?" I took it! Go back and check!). In the lunchroom, Karen asks me how I'm finding it. I answer with a platitude of some kind (something along the lines of "I can tolerate this on a temporary basis, but if I ever find myself in your position I shall doubtless slit my wrists", if memory serves, which it possibly doesn't). She asks me if I'll be back tomorrow. I advise that I have no idea, on account of nobody giving me a schedule.
"Well," she says, "according to my schedule you're working tomorrow."
Apparently I'm not privy to my schedule, but she is. This is still a step up from tree-planting, though, where they couldn't tell me with absolute certainty what *month* I'd be starting work in.
21:20
Time to switch machines again. This time, I'm operating two machines by myself, which sounds very impressive until you read the next couple of paragraphs. As she "trains" me, Mandy has the slightly embarrassed look of somebody asked to instruct on the ludicrously obvious, and expression I first encountered last summer when the elder dean of courtesy clerks was teaching me how to bring shopping carts from the parking lot into the store.
The first machine produces - very slowly - stacks of twenty-eight bucket lids (with gasketless kind), which I need to rearrange into stacks of fifty-five and put in boxes. The second machine produces plastic bucket handles, which it dumps into a tray. I need to take them out, place them on a table to cool, and then deposit them into a large box.
21:42
Going through my head: "Iris" by the Googoo Dolls. This is an improvement over "If You're Happy and You Know It" only insofar as no actions are required.
22:07
I come to the realization that I am doing my job extremely inefficiently. It would make much more sense to wait until the lid machine has spit out one hundred and eleven stacks of twenty-eight, combine the first hundred and ten into fifty-five stacks of fifty-six, and then remove one lid from the top of each stack to make a fifty-sixth stack of fifty-five. With the handle machine, it would make more sense to wait until the bin was full, and then remove all of the handles, instead of removing a dozen or so every few seconds.
I don't act on this realization, of course, since doing so would basically leave me with nothing to do for several hours on end. If there's one thing I've learned from successive Vice Presidents (Student Life) - and this is doubtful - it's how to disguise the fact that your job is stupid and should probably be eliminated.
23:00
Quitting time.
Stuck in my head: "Take this Job and Shove It", by Johnny Paycheck.
|
13:00
Mike: How's your availability this weekend?
Steve: Depends whether or not I'm working. They gave me a job last Thursday, but have yet to give me any shifts. Here, I'll call them again.
Which I do, and get an answering machine. This may or may not be progress, since in previous attempts I have, rather than getting the lady in charge of scheduling (we'll call her "Dionne"), I've gotten some guy ("Dale") who isn't in charge of shift scheduling, but who has always dutifully agreed to pass my message along. This has never resulted in any actual calls back, mind you, while the message I leave on Dionne's answering machine *does* result in a call back. . . from Dale.
Dale: When are you available to start work?
(I had answered this question last Thursday at the new employee orientation session, the answer being "immediately".)
Steve: Um, any time. I can start at three, if you want me to.
Dale: Could you?
13:15
Exit shower.
14:40
Having eaten breakfast and packed lunch (two bananas and four cheddar, barbecue sauce, and red pepper - in response to the impassioned please of my sister, who periodically feels the need to save me from myself, I omit my other planned ingredient, garlic powder - sandwiches), I depart for work, which is conveniently located across the street.
14:45
Arriving at work, I enter the lunchroom.
"Hairnet!" yells the woman sitting at the table, who I soon learn is the one they call "Karen". The yelling is in reference, obviously, to hairnets, or rather the lack of them on my head. I am holding one in my hand, but I hadn't yet put it on, since I'm told that the use of hairnets is mandatory to avoid contaminating product, and there is relatively little production that occurs in the lunchroom. Apparently this is one of those policies that has broken its shackles and overpowered its creator, like that guy with the bolts sticking out of his neck.
I put on the hairnet and am assigned to a machine, along with a gentleman named Tyler. A woman named Mandy is assigned to train me. This is, obviously, very unfortunate for her, though she has no way of knowing this at the time.
15:00
Tyler, Mandy, and I approach our assigned machine. The machine spits out bucket lids (this factory deals primarily in buckets) into which one of the people on the machine - this turns out to be Tyler - inserts rubber gaskets. My role is to take the lids from Tyler, examine them for flaws, and, when enough are accumulated, box them.
Mandy explains all of this to me. Because I am both hard of hearing and wearing earplugs, I do not hear what she is saying. It actually takes me a while to even realize that she is talking to me. As it turns out, this does not matter.
15:15
Steve: What sort of flaws should I be looking for?
Tyler: It really doesn't matter. Just go through the motions so the supervisors think you're doing your job.
15:30
The first box is complete, and it falls to me to tape it up. Unfortunately, this involves the use of a tape gun.
Pop quiz:
KRYPTONITE is to SUPERMAN as TAPE GUNS are to
(a) tape
(b) canola
(c) Steve
(d) the Great Barrier Reef.
As always, the correct answer is (c). I have an inexplicable amount of trouble with tape guns, and tonight is no exception. At one point, I tape my sleeve to the box. I am not making this up.
"It takes a while to get the hang of it," says Karen helpfully as she walks by.
15:45
I have "Don't Let it Get You Down", by Neil Young, stuck in my head.
16:05
Tyler has spent the last four years working at this factory. I have spent the last five in University. Over the course of our conversation, it becomes clear that he has a better handle on his life than I have on mine. This would be a sobering thought if I allowed it to become one, so I change the subject.
16:45
Now stuck in my head: "Bad Moon Rising", by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
16:50
Excitement! Time to switch machines. Tyler goes off to parts unknown, while I go off to be trained, by the long-suffering (well, at least two hours) Mandy, in the art of putting metal handles on five gallon buckets.
17:15
What an excellent machine!
17:50
Now stuck in my head: "Let it Ride", by Bachman-Turner Overdrive. Except not the BTO version - the Guess Who's version, from their "Running Back Thru [sic] Canada" album.
18:07
Note to self: when you get home, change your MSN name to "I [heart] putting metal handles on five gallon buckets".
18:09
Note to self: you hate emoticons, remember?
18:10
Note to self: shit.
18:33
Now stuck in my head: "Patterns", by Simon & Garfunkel.
18:50
Time to change machines again. I bid an almost tearful farewell to this one as Mandy leads me off to learn how to put plastic handles on four litre buckets. This, as it turns out, is nowhere near as much fun.
I arrive at the machine - which basically shoots out buckets into a big tray, while another worker (whose name, I learn from reading the sign-in sheet, is Wes) and I fish them out and put handles on them. Wes and I do not exchange a single word our entire time together.
19:14
"Closing Time", Leonard Cohen (not to be confused with that utterly terrible song of the same name by Semisonic).
19:38
Revelation: you know that part at the beginning of Avril Lavigne's "Sk8tr [sic] Boi [sic]" where she whines "He was a boy / She was a girl / Can I make it any more obvious?"? Well, that's actually not a bad line. I mean, don't get me wrong: Avril Lavigne is still a talentless and obnoxious shit, but that line exhibits some level of humour, even self-deprecation.
20:20
Wes goes on his break, and is temporarily replaced by another gentleman. He and I also do not exchange a single word.
20:29
Going through my head: "If You're Happy and You Know It (Clap Your Hands)", by, I assume, some extremely depressed sadist.
20:54
I go on my second break (what do you mean "what happened to the first one?" I took it! Go back and check!). In the lunchroom, Karen asks me how I'm finding it. I answer with a platitude of some kind (something along the lines of "I can tolerate this on a temporary basis, but if I ever find myself in your position I shall doubtless slit my wrists", if memory serves, which it possibly doesn't). She asks me if I'll be back tomorrow. I advise that I have no idea, on account of nobody giving me a schedule.
"Well," she says, "according to my schedule you're working tomorrow."
Apparently I'm not privy to my schedule, but she is. This is still a step up from tree-planting, though, where they couldn't tell me with absolute certainty what *month* I'd be starting work in.
21:20
Time to switch machines again. This time, I'm operating two machines by myself, which sounds very impressive until you read the next couple of paragraphs. As she "trains" me, Mandy has the slightly embarrassed look of somebody asked to instruct on the ludicrously obvious, and expression I first encountered last summer when the elder dean of courtesy clerks was teaching me how to bring shopping carts from the parking lot into the store.
The first machine produces - very slowly - stacks of twenty-eight bucket lids (with gasketless kind), which I need to rearrange into stacks of fifty-five and put in boxes. The second machine produces plastic bucket handles, which it dumps into a tray. I need to take them out, place them on a table to cool, and then deposit them into a large box.
21:42
Going through my head: "Iris" by the Googoo Dolls. This is an improvement over "If You're Happy and You Know It" only insofar as no actions are required.
22:07
I come to the realization that I am doing my job extremely inefficiently. It would make much more sense to wait until the lid machine has spit out one hundred and eleven stacks of twenty-eight, combine the first hundred and ten into fifty-five stacks of fifty-six, and then remove one lid from the top of each stack to make a fifty-sixth stack of fifty-five. With the handle machine, it would make more sense to wait until the bin was full, and then remove all of the handles, instead of removing a dozen or so every few seconds.
I don't act on this realization, of course, since doing so would basically leave me with nothing to do for several hours on end. If there's one thing I've learned from successive Vice Presidents (Student Life) - and this is doubtful - it's how to disguise the fact that your job is stupid and should probably be eliminated.
23:00
Quitting time.
Stuck in my head: "Take this Job and Shove It", by Johnny Paycheck.
