It’s getting hot here. And working in a warehouse get miserable. We rejoice whenever the huge blowers kick in, bringing in fresh, sun-soaked air from off the paved loading dock.
But at least I’m not being timed pulling.
Hell is actually being forced to perform Sisyphustic tasks in intense heat. My team leader went on vacation a couple of weeks ago, leaving Mark (my shift’s forklift driver) and me in charge of the dozen or so college kids working for us this summer. We had instructions to finish building two valleys, though our team leader didn’t think we’d get as far as finishing the first one. But we did. And it looked beautiful. I was really proud of us.
Except one of the rows of metal shelves poked out an inch off the edge by the offices.
So the next week the order came to tear it all down. Not just the offending row. All four rows, both sides of the middle aisle break, all had to come down. We restacked the cardboard, restacked the metal shelf mesh, took out all the pins and hooks, restacked the beams. Then some main warehouse guys came over and used lasers to straighten it all out. We finally finished putting it all back together today.
Today I was swiping some CD jewel out of the store supplies department for some cracked CD’s that had come in, when the girl who’s in charge of Send Outs sidled up to me. She’s quiet, and I’m quiet, so we’ve probably only exchanged about three sentences since I started working there. “Don’t tell anyone,” she murmured, just above the noise of the blowers, “but during our meeting just now, the boss was bragging about you.”
“Don’t tell anyone!”
“I won’t, but what was he bragging about?”
“About how good you are with the college kids.”
Well, duh, I think. I’m a natural leader. But I grinned and thanked her.
“Don’t tell anyone!” she repeated.
Hell is where the prideful go.