Unhappy Halloween
Dear Blog,
I realize now that last week I referred to Wednesday as "Hump Day" not once, but twice. I don't know what came over me, but I assure you it will never happen again. I apologize.
Halloween started off pleasantly. The kids started coming around 5:00 and lasted until 8. Kait got a real kick seeing all the costumes. Halloween is always a fun holiday-type-thing (I'm union now - "holiday" only means any day I don't work but get paid anyway). I made the steak fajitas I like to make. Couldn't be simpiler, btw. You marinade the steak in olive oil, some lemon or lime juice (whichever one you prefer - I find they both blow my socks off, so I like to mix it up), a few cloves of garlic, mashed up (how much garlic, of course depends on how much you like garlic, so me I put in a boatload...if you don't like garlic, btw, go away right now; I forbid you to read from this journal), some cumin, and some chilli powder overnight. The next day, you cut up half a red onion and a green pepper, chop up a couple more cloves of garlic (you can see why I really like this recipie) and first cook the steak - just a couple minutes on each side, then take the steak out but leave the juices in, and cook the garlic, pepper, and onion for like, 5 minutes, warm up the tortilla' s and then just serve it with some salsa and/or guacomole - once again, I recommend making your own guacomole, if you can figure out how to do it right, the rewards are everlasting. Fuckin' delicious, I promise you.
But once I got to work, things got really unpleasant. First of all, I forgot to change from my sneakers to my boots, which is important to the company that you don't do, but you can get away with it as long as no one looks at your shoes. Well, someone did look at my shoes. And so I had to go back to the apartment to get them over break. I was going to be late anyway, but on the way back I ran into two separate red lights that lasted several minutes each. It was a goddam nightmare.
When I got back, things got worse. All of a sudden the belts were working sporadically, so every so often you had to stack packages that go to a certain belt around your feet, and while you're building this stack you are also sorting the other packages that come in so you can't just build this anywhere. And then, once the belt gets moving again, you get to send the whole stack (while you can - the belt is only minutes away from stopping again), again, while sorting the incoming packages. Then small sort shut down. And then I got sent to the head of the aisle, where I dealt with a truck and the internals (internals are packages which were missorted and now are coming back to the sort aisle for another go round. Needless to say, a lot of these packages don't have a human readable - see an earlier post for more on human readables...). Then shit hit the fan, hardcore.
Small sort is the belt right in front of our feet, below the belt where the packages come in, which is waist high. Head high there is another shelf - the orange shelf, where all the packages headed to the Boston area go. All the other shelves are behind us (I use the words "shelf" and "belt" almost interchangeably - it's not always that way; you have to understand that some shelves have two belts...neither of the shelves I just mentioned, though, are like that, so in their case "belt" and "shelf" are, in fact, interchangeable). Anyway, small sort, as you may expect from the name, is where the small packages go; small in this case meaning any package as big as, or smaller than, a shoe box AND (not or) 5 pounds or lighter (You'd be suprised how many packages that you can fit in the cup that you make with your hands weigh 10, 20, 30 lbs, or even more. One time, I had a whole damn truckload, it seemed, of 45-pound boxes that couldn't have been larger than 5 inches, cubed. Luckily they all went to one of the bottom shelves - behind me, not small sort - and I didn't have to get these fuckers up to an over-my-head belt, shotput-style). But that shelf shuts down about the same time every night, about 20-30 minutes before the trucks run out. So when small sort shuts down, it's a pain in the ass, because now you have to sort all the tiny-assed packages yourself, instead of passing the buck to the folks in small sort, but you know the end of your shift is coming up. Usually.
Unless, of course, right after small sort comes down the truck you're unloading has half a goddam truckload full of small sort bags. Small sort bags are large canvas bags that are filled with small packages all bagged up for the convienence of us (something actually convenient for the sorter - take notes, because they're aren't too many more of these), so we can just throw the bag down at our feet. Unless the bags are destined for other hubs, in which case you simply sort the bag as you would a regular package. But the bags that go down to your feet, once small sort shuts down, you in the aisle are responsible for anything that is still with you or will arrive afterwards. And you can't just dump the bags while you sort other packages - you'd have to take the time and dump the bag THEN sort the god-knows-how-many-until-you-open-it packages, all while you're getting more packages from the truck and the internals? No way. You can open a bag and sort one if you have a dry spot, but until then you have to let them pile at your feet. And pile they did. I had a goddam castle around me today - a veritable fortress. By the time the trucks finally finished (and THAT was late as hell) we still had to pick up, empty, and sort all the fucking bags that had piled up, all the other boxes which had piled up because we couldn't move quick enough because of the goddam bags, and all the fucking tape-ups. Tape-ups are all of the packages that need to be taped up (try and mask your suprise); supposedly the unloaders should be getting the bulk of the tape-ups whereas we only get the few that they somehow miss, but the reality is far more tape ups get through the unload section than get caught by the unloaders (who I won't say anything about, other than that they are the ones who get the simpilest job - you know what I'm saying?). Anyway, we got blasted tonight with tape-ups along with the rest of the disaster. By the time we finally got all the shit cleaned up, I was definately ready to go home.
But tonight was the worst night I've had there, and by a long ways. Sometimes, the job gets annoying, of course, but if you keep in mind that working hard there could get you a decent job later on, it's not overcomeable. For me, once I get home, I'm no longer worried about anything work-related. It's one of the joys of working manual labor, I suppose (inasmuch as there are any...my fucking guns are another, though - Jesus, I could whoop someone's ass). So if tonight is the worst this place has, bring it on!
Actually, it's not the worst the place has. Peak season is coming up, and that, obviously, is when things get really busy. And about a half-a-million motherfuckers all get the urge to send Vermont Teddy Bears to everyone they goddam know, and every single one of those little furry shits goes right through our hub. I've dealt with them before, sometimes 20 boxes in a load, all right on top of each other. They are obnoxious, but I've never seen a whole truckload of them. But by then, I'll be ready. If I can make as much prgress this month as I made last month, then I'll be plenty ready for peak.
I was going to write a big ol' thing on the moral of the story I told last night (I figured out what it was), but I'm far too exhausted from merely relaying to you today's events. Tomorrow, look for an entry in the sports section about the start of the NBA season, and the politics blog will have an entry on whatever story catches my eye in the news tomorrow.
Mahalo.
I realize now that last week I referred to Wednesday as "Hump Day" not once, but twice. I don't know what came over me, but I assure you it will never happen again. I apologize.
Halloween started off pleasantly. The kids started coming around 5:00 and lasted until 8. Kait got a real kick seeing all the costumes. Halloween is always a fun holiday-type-thing (I'm union now - "holiday" only means any day I don't work but get paid anyway). I made the steak fajitas I like to make. Couldn't be simpiler, btw. You marinade the steak in olive oil, some lemon or lime juice (whichever one you prefer - I find they both blow my socks off, so I like to mix it up), a few cloves of garlic, mashed up (how much garlic, of course depends on how much you like garlic, so me I put in a boatload...if you don't like garlic, btw, go away right now; I forbid you to read from this journal), some cumin, and some chilli powder overnight. The next day, you cut up half a red onion and a green pepper, chop up a couple more cloves of garlic (you can see why I really like this recipie) and first cook the steak - just a couple minutes on each side, then take the steak out but leave the juices in, and cook the garlic, pepper, and onion for like, 5 minutes, warm up the tortilla' s and then just serve it with some salsa and/or guacomole - once again, I recommend making your own guacomole, if you can figure out how to do it right, the rewards are everlasting. Fuckin' delicious, I promise you.
But once I got to work, things got really unpleasant. First of all, I forgot to change from my sneakers to my boots, which is important to the company that you don't do, but you can get away with it as long as no one looks at your shoes. Well, someone did look at my shoes. And so I had to go back to the apartment to get them over break. I was going to be late anyway, but on the way back I ran into two separate red lights that lasted several minutes each. It was a goddam nightmare.
When I got back, things got worse. All of a sudden the belts were working sporadically, so every so often you had to stack packages that go to a certain belt around your feet, and while you're building this stack you are also sorting the other packages that come in so you can't just build this anywhere. And then, once the belt gets moving again, you get to send the whole stack (while you can - the belt is only minutes away from stopping again), again, while sorting the incoming packages. Then small sort shut down. And then I got sent to the head of the aisle, where I dealt with a truck and the internals (internals are packages which were missorted and now are coming back to the sort aisle for another go round. Needless to say, a lot of these packages don't have a human readable - see an earlier post for more on human readables...). Then shit hit the fan, hardcore.
Small sort is the belt right in front of our feet, below the belt where the packages come in, which is waist high. Head high there is another shelf - the orange shelf, where all the packages headed to the Boston area go. All the other shelves are behind us (I use the words "shelf" and "belt" almost interchangeably - it's not always that way; you have to understand that some shelves have two belts...neither of the shelves I just mentioned, though, are like that, so in their case "belt" and "shelf" are, in fact, interchangeable). Anyway, small sort, as you may expect from the name, is where the small packages go; small in this case meaning any package as big as, or smaller than, a shoe box AND (not or) 5 pounds or lighter (You'd be suprised how many packages that you can fit in the cup that you make with your hands weigh 10, 20, 30 lbs, or even more. One time, I had a whole damn truckload, it seemed, of 45-pound boxes that couldn't have been larger than 5 inches, cubed. Luckily they all went to one of the bottom shelves - behind me, not small sort - and I didn't have to get these fuckers up to an over-my-head belt, shotput-style). But that shelf shuts down about the same time every night, about 20-30 minutes before the trucks run out. So when small sort shuts down, it's a pain in the ass, because now you have to sort all the tiny-assed packages yourself, instead of passing the buck to the folks in small sort, but you know the end of your shift is coming up. Usually.
Unless, of course, right after small sort comes down the truck you're unloading has half a goddam truckload full of small sort bags. Small sort bags are large canvas bags that are filled with small packages all bagged up for the convienence of us (something actually convenient for the sorter - take notes, because they're aren't too many more of these), so we can just throw the bag down at our feet. Unless the bags are destined for other hubs, in which case you simply sort the bag as you would a regular package. But the bags that go down to your feet, once small sort shuts down, you in the aisle are responsible for anything that is still with you or will arrive afterwards. And you can't just dump the bags while you sort other packages - you'd have to take the time and dump the bag THEN sort the god-knows-how-many-until-you-open-it packages, all while you're getting more packages from the truck and the internals? No way. You can open a bag and sort one if you have a dry spot, but until then you have to let them pile at your feet. And pile they did. I had a goddam castle around me today - a veritable fortress. By the time the trucks finally finished (and THAT was late as hell) we still had to pick up, empty, and sort all the fucking bags that had piled up, all the other boxes which had piled up because we couldn't move quick enough because of the goddam bags, and all the fucking tape-ups. Tape-ups are all of the packages that need to be taped up (try and mask your suprise); supposedly the unloaders should be getting the bulk of the tape-ups whereas we only get the few that they somehow miss, but the reality is far more tape ups get through the unload section than get caught by the unloaders (who I won't say anything about, other than that they are the ones who get the simpilest job - you know what I'm saying?). Anyway, we got blasted tonight with tape-ups along with the rest of the disaster. By the time we finally got all the shit cleaned up, I was definately ready to go home.
But tonight was the worst night I've had there, and by a long ways. Sometimes, the job gets annoying, of course, but if you keep in mind that working hard there could get you a decent job later on, it's not overcomeable. For me, once I get home, I'm no longer worried about anything work-related. It's one of the joys of working manual labor, I suppose (inasmuch as there are any...my fucking guns are another, though - Jesus, I could whoop someone's ass). So if tonight is the worst this place has, bring it on!
Actually, it's not the worst the place has. Peak season is coming up, and that, obviously, is when things get really busy. And about a half-a-million motherfuckers all get the urge to send Vermont Teddy Bears to everyone they goddam know, and every single one of those little furry shits goes right through our hub. I've dealt with them before, sometimes 20 boxes in a load, all right on top of each other. They are obnoxious, but I've never seen a whole truckload of them. But by then, I'll be ready. If I can make as much prgress this month as I made last month, then I'll be plenty ready for peak.
I was going to write a big ol' thing on the moral of the story I told last night (I figured out what it was), but I'm far too exhausted from merely relaying to you today's events. Tomorrow, look for an entry in the sports section about the start of the NBA season, and the politics blog will have an entry on whatever story catches my eye in the news tomorrow.
Mahalo.
posted by k - L - g | 5:14 AM
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