semiosis untitled

a miscellany by Oli M.


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Just as you get good, you graduate
childhood
olifhar
Recently I have been really proud of my load quality under pressure. (Load quality refers to how effective your package walls in the trucks are, in terms of space usage and stability.) Last night, I flipped out on this guy who has terrible load quality and wasn't following any of the loading techniques we had been trained in earlier in the week.

At one point, after repeating and rephrasing what I had just said, he just give me this blank, confused stare.

I shouted, "ARE YOU STONED?!" My part-time supervisor was right behind me and was very amused.

But guess what: I won't be loading anymore, except here and there to help out the rest of the guys at the end of the night. I'm getting back my job on the high-volume belt pickoff. Power Steve has been _banned_ by upper management from being on the pickoff because it was taking away from other stuff he's supposed to do. The fellow who was handling the heavy side of the pickoff until now has moved on to a new job.

My going back up there means the areas will get fewer mis-sorted packages, but they're pulling me from the trucks just as I was getting good at loading. I'm pleased about this individually, but it's going to suck for the rest of my buddies (the decent loaders in my area).

We're short-staffed in the trucks as it is. Yesterday, Ivan, a kid who's been working with us since Thanksgiving said to me while we were pulling packages that had fallen into a dead chute (one not hooked up to a truck): "Listen, bro--if I don't work here come next week, it was a pleasure working with you."

Because of the staffing shortage, and whatever other factors, the loads seem to be getting progressively worse. Our area has fewer than one person per truck. Power Steve can't help us until the very end of the night. Thursday is usually a lighter night. But last night, every supervisor in my area looked haggard and worn down. Thomas, the lead part-time supervisor for my side of the building was scarily pale, especially given he is Dominican. He had his glasses off and was muttering, "Thomas is dead. There is no more Thomas. Thomas is dead."

I didn't have the heart to break the news about my reassignment to the rest of the guys, who were still working to fix things up when I left.

And I haven't told anyone at work I'm aiming to be out for sure before the end of March.
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