Old news: Spring Break has arrived at Geneva College. It's been a few days, actually, and in a mere four weekdays we will be back to the daily grind. I find it amusing that so many people say "Spring break, already?" Me, I was the exact opposite. Seven consecutive weeks of full-time school and three-quarter-time work wear me pretty thin. I'm all for break in the middle of March.
New news: I went for a run last weekend. Oh, wait, that's not new... the new news is that I sprained my ankle on that run and today I finally made it to the doctor. I have a bright, shiny (well, textured black, so not shiny at all) boot to wear for the next two weeks, and a brace after that. So many things I could say on the topic, but I'll keep it light-hearted: I've learned my lesson about running on the Sabbath.
Borrowed news: So many things to choose from! I suppose I'll go with what I consider to be the most important (and what you will think the most nerdy) - I love Doctor Who. Not because he's British (rather, it's British and he's a TimeLord), and not because it's science fiction (although that definitely helps); because it is so rare to watch a show that is honest about the failures of mankind, our cruelty, thoughtlessness and ignorance, and also takes the time to reaffirm the inherent value and potential of mankind, unique amid the splendors of the universe.
Complaints: If you're going to write that you have particular skills in either communication or English (or both), please proofread your Bible 300 paper before you turn it in. Just sayin'.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
3.07.2012
12.31.2011
Post Post Office Ramblings, aka "The Milkshake Made Me Do It"
Two full weeks and one day later, I turned in my badge and quit the postal service. I promptly purchased a celebratory milkshake at Sheetz along with a few Reese's cups, and for that I apologize to you, my voluntary audience. Judge me gently for what follows - there is no plan, and I'm on a sugar high like you've never seen.
Before this summer when I thought of the USPS, I don't know what came to mind. Definitely the cranky lady who delivers our mail - it's not our fault that Zelienople denied our plea to be part of their city - and a lot of bored-looking clerks sitting behind counters. Maybe the mailman from Christy, he always made me smile...
So my world has been made a little bigger, in the most basic sense, by this little brush with industry. Did you know that it costs less to ship almost anything through the Post Office than any of the other shipping companies? True story. I've learned a lot of other things, too...
For example, I always thought that when Quentin Tarantino put language in his films, he was being hyperbolic. People don't actually cuss that much, right? WRONG. They really, really do. They swear when they're upset, when they want you to do something differently, when they're frustrated, tired, stressed, or injured.
They also swear when they're happy, in the middle of normal conversations, when they're joking, indifferent, or have nothing better to do. It's ridiculous.
Then there's unions. I've watched North and South and I'm pretty well-read in Pittsburgh's history - I have half an idea of why unions exist and, even, why they're important. I'm grateful that union labor regulations require the post office to give us 15 minute breaks every two hours and a half-hour lunch (even if it is off the clock). What I don't understand is... well, everything else about them. And how casual employees survive as long as some of them do - we do roughly twice the work at half the pay, with no hope of improving our position and desperate not to be fired.
Of course, you also have to be careful, because there are two ways to yourself kicked out - not working enough, or working too hard. The best advice that I should have followed earlier in my casual employee career was "Sometimes working smart means working dumb." There's no way we're a threat to union jobs, but if a regular decides they don't like you they will make your life hell.
Oh the things I could say... but I'm coming off that high and realizing how pointless this post is. So what's the deal? What's the moral of this story?
First, never assume you know what you're getting into. When in doubt, don't ask a supervisor, ask another casual so you can look dumb together. Never volunteer for extra hours, because if they don't keep you today, they'll keep you tomorrow. Don't pull the mask off the Lone Ranger, and never, never, eat off of the break room table.
Before this summer when I thought of the USPS, I don't know what came to mind. Definitely the cranky lady who delivers our mail - it's not our fault that Zelienople denied our plea to be part of their city - and a lot of bored-looking clerks sitting behind counters. Maybe the mailman from Christy, he always made me smile...
"Beautiful, ain't it! Just been told us by the gov-ment in Washington. Now looky here, I figure that if rain or snow, nor none of those things are meant to stay us couriers, then we shorely can't have no gal-woman stayin' us."Nothing I've ever seen prepared me for the "Logistics and Distribution Center." I know that shows my age and inexperience, because my father isn't at all surprised when I describe the machines we work with. Maybe some of you would be surprised, too, if you walked into that rush and clatter. Semi trailers docking, unloading, loading, and departing at more than 60 doors are just the beginning - five sorting machines, and an army of people just like us either feeding machines or sorting packages manually. I've gained an appreciation and healthy respect for conveyor belts, one that grows every time I finish a shift.
So my world has been made a little bigger, in the most basic sense, by this little brush with industry. Did you know that it costs less to ship almost anything through the Post Office than any of the other shipping companies? True story. I've learned a lot of other things, too...
For example, I always thought that when Quentin Tarantino put language in his films, he was being hyperbolic. People don't actually cuss that much, right? WRONG. They really, really do. They swear when they're upset, when they want you to do something differently, when they're frustrated, tired, stressed, or injured.
They also swear when they're happy, in the middle of normal conversations, when they're joking, indifferent, or have nothing better to do. It's ridiculous.
Then there's unions. I've watched North and South and I'm pretty well-read in Pittsburgh's history - I have half an idea of why unions exist and, even, why they're important. I'm grateful that union labor regulations require the post office to give us 15 minute breaks every two hours and a half-hour lunch (even if it is off the clock). What I don't understand is... well, everything else about them. And how casual employees survive as long as some of them do - we do roughly twice the work at half the pay, with no hope of improving our position and desperate not to be fired.
Of course, you also have to be careful, because there are two ways to yourself kicked out - not working enough, or working too hard. The best advice that I should have followed earlier in my casual employee career was "Sometimes working smart means working dumb." There's no way we're a threat to union jobs, but if a regular decides they don't like you they will make your life hell.
Oh the things I could say... but I'm coming off that high and realizing how pointless this post is. So what's the deal? What's the moral of this story?
First, never assume you know what you're getting into. When in doubt, don't ask a supervisor, ask another casual so you can look dumb together. Never volunteer for extra hours, because if they don't keep you today, they'll keep you tomorrow. Don't pull the mask off the Lone Ranger, and never, never, eat off of the break room table.
12.22.2011
Musings from the Post Office
Happy December 22nd from the United States Post Office! That's right, my Christmas break plans included rejoining the ranks of "casual" postal employees. It's a bit of a disappointing transition from the rush and bustle of finals week - along with all its celebration and study and friendship - to the rattle and hum of a distribution center, but my bank account and future plans tell me that it's necessary.
Every time I get off an 8...9...12 hour shift I have to give myself a little pep talk about resigning my appointment, as in, convincing myself I shouldn't. Tempting as it is to turn in my badge and spend two weeks doing nothing, I have to remember that this is valuable, not only because it pays better than anything else I could be doing over break, but because of the things I learn from it.
For instance, just yesterday as I was talking myself out of quitting it occurred to me that I really am spoiled. My little sister says I work too much, and I'll admit that the transition from a school day to the night shift was ill-conceived, but at the same time... this is what real people do. Real people have real jobs that don't end the second week of December and resume in mid-January, with nothing between but reading and cookie-making. Real people put in hours when they would rather be at home loving their families or soaking their aching feet or planning Christmas shopping. Real people have to say "no" to good things on a daily basis because there is less appealing life stuff that must be done - and I shouldn't hide from being a real person.
I got off my shift early today and thus found myself wandering around Walmart at 3am hoping I would be struck by brilliant gift ideas. I didn't get any, unfortunately, but I was struck by the number of employees that were also there at 3am, restocking shelves and sweeping isles. Here in America our standards for customer service are pretty high, and I wonder how often we overlook the people who are right there, doing the things that must be done - especially during the holidays. They're men and women made in the image of God and doing their best.
I tried to pretend I wasn't there (difficult, when I was one of five customers in the whole store) and stayed out of their way, but I couldn't help but think that they and I were both suffering through the same graveyard shift experience. I looked down at my painting jeans and work shirt, evenly covered with "priority dust" and realized that I'm not anything special because I'm in grad school. I'm just a Walmart employee. I'm just a postal employee. I'm just a member of the working class... and I could show them a little more respect. Maybe you could too?
Every time I get off an 8...9...12 hour shift I have to give myself a little pep talk about resigning my appointment, as in, convincing myself I shouldn't. Tempting as it is to turn in my badge and spend two weeks doing nothing, I have to remember that this is valuable, not only because it pays better than anything else I could be doing over break, but because of the things I learn from it.
For instance, just yesterday as I was talking myself out of quitting it occurred to me that I really am spoiled. My little sister says I work too much, and I'll admit that the transition from a school day to the night shift was ill-conceived, but at the same time... this is what real people do. Real people have real jobs that don't end the second week of December and resume in mid-January, with nothing between but reading and cookie-making. Real people put in hours when they would rather be at home loving their families or soaking their aching feet or planning Christmas shopping. Real people have to say "no" to good things on a daily basis because there is less appealing life stuff that must be done - and I shouldn't hide from being a real person.
I got off my shift early today and thus found myself wandering around Walmart at 3am hoping I would be struck by brilliant gift ideas. I didn't get any, unfortunately, but I was struck by the number of employees that were also there at 3am, restocking shelves and sweeping isles. Here in America our standards for customer service are pretty high, and I wonder how often we overlook the people who are right there, doing the things that must be done - especially during the holidays. They're men and women made in the image of God and doing their best.
I tried to pretend I wasn't there (difficult, when I was one of five customers in the whole store) and stayed out of their way, but I couldn't help but think that they and I were both suffering through the same graveyard shift experience. I looked down at my painting jeans and work shirt, evenly covered with "priority dust" and realized that I'm not anything special because I'm in grad school. I'm just a Walmart employee. I'm just a postal employee. I'm just a member of the working class... and I could show them a little more respect. Maybe you could too?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)