I have
worked in the business and industrial fields many times in my life, and quite
frankly, didn’t care much for it. It tends to be cold and impersonal for the
most part, striving towards “efficiency” and “cost-productive procedures”.
Sure, I use products that they make. But maybe they could just be a bit nicer
to the people who work to make those products for them, instead of sitting in
their conference rooms in their suits ordering in lunch before heading to the
tanning salon in their newest Lamborghini while the poor schmucks drag their
tired bodies into the break room for a Spam sandwich (Don’t get me wrong, I love
a good fried Spam sandwich, just for your information.) before heading back
onto the factory floor to churn out more widgets before plopping into their hoopty cars and wheezing their way home to their families and a night of
cable tv.
Not saying that
all the workers are dedicated, tireless individuals who actually earn their
wages, though. I was once fired from a factory, believe it or not. And have to
admit that I could understand why the management felt that they were justified
in firing me, as well. A fine example of the statement “And the truth shall set
you free.” In my case, it did set me free… unemployed could be construed
as being free, right? Just because I told a guy who I was supervising that he
“was the laziest bastard I have ever seen.” Well, it was just a fact.
I worked in a
factory when I was fresh out of high school. My dad had worked there for as
long as I could remember, so I would give it a try. I decided quickly that
being a worker in a factory environment was not for me. Perhaps it is all right
for others, I don’t know. All I did was pick up two small boards, stick them in
a machine, step on a pedal that automatically finger-jointed the ends and
applied glue, then reverse the pieces, step on the pedal, then put the two
pieces on a conveyor belt next to me. When I got enough pieces jointed and
glued together, I went to the end and used a saw to cut them to (I think) an 8
foot long ‘board’. These were put on a pallet, and when it was full, another
worker appeared out of nowhere to haul it away. I walked out at lunch break…
and went home.
Another job had
me taking bins full of freshly made pliers and inspecting them. I was to look
at them and see if the handles and jaws were straight. If they weren’t, I put
them in a vise and bent the offending piece until it was aligned. After each
bin, I would stop and spend about ten minutes with the factory-furnished
tweezers pulling all the metal slivers out of my hands. I believe I worked
there for a couple of weeks before deciding there must be more to life and
moving on.
I am sure that
there are factory workers everywhere who are happy with their jobs. Well, maybe
I’m not really sure… but I would like to think that not all of them are
miserable, anyway.
I suppose that
business and industrial junk is needed… I just wish that elves and little
gnomes did it at night while we slept… and that they were all ecstatic that
they were able to help out.
