21st Century

We know how lawsuits slam the innocent; therefore names, places and dates will not be mentioned. I will showcase this article working within the Big Apple in America based on my own insight and experiences.

The question invariably asked is, what kind of expectation of one's capability is required when hired within various companies in the 21st century? And does it encapsulate those working conditions of sweat factories? Remember, there comes a time in a person's life when one must seek out and acquire some extra cash for various reasons. If you're in desperate need, switch on cyberspace and seek to find yourself one of those big "Apples." However, beware, my experience flickered those flicks of Zombies and Cheech & Chong, "Up in Smoke." Americana ways and present-day showcased outside breaks are just the proper antidotes for a quick fix of exhaustion and pain muscle aches.

The first time I walked outside for a break indeed made me feel welcome into that past of humorous scene where drug sales offer freedom, a redemption of sorts for that backbreaking killer ethic. I highly recommend the parking lot. Mingling with others seeking a dose of adrenaline and observing those newbies' first few days of excoriating pain. What's more of a mind trip are the old-timers who are fortunate enough to still be employed and who try so desperately to lift their feet instead of drawing them along the pavement, kind of a freaky scene of real human zombies. If you are more adventurous and turn down those free aspirins packed in vending machines like candy bars. Some employees try the natural entertainment of drug-related humor; this will eventually offer a hit of someone's Kandypen Special-K. Maybe I was simply lucky enough to be part of the Alice got hired in Wonderland experience, and this is my story. I'll lead you backward in the fantastic creation of WTF.

While I'm sitting here listening to Al Green and Tupac blow it up, I'll move on forward to the day life collided with reality. The money is gone. My divorce is running in the slow lane, and my family disowned me for travelling out of the county. So, you can see the problematic situation that plagued me into another trial and error and choices. Then, there came the thought, why not try the exciting world of employment within the Big Apple? After all, I had not worked outside my home for years. Self-employed was my gig. And under the current circumstances, this was no longer an option. Well, I was in luck. Three of the largest internet companies made their home close by. Fortunately, eighteen to twenty-minute drive.

However, I heard about the rumors, "dungeon sweatshops," but they are just rumors; never know until you get a look inside. In that respect, I was sitting at my desk attempting to examine the pros and cons of this choice when suddenly I found myself applying online. And what a miracle this turned out to be! Immediately I receive an email! The basic blah, blah, blah. The real surprise came ten minutes afterward. Another email with an orientation date. What a kick-in, you know what! There was no choice of position to request when I applied. I was leery, no doubt, but what the heck, give it a try. If they don't care that I may be a mental case with a split personality, maybe they don't care if I find out they are.

A few days later, off to the orientation I go. The significant buildings, not a problem to locate. These places are massive. Although searching for the right door seemed a mile-long drive was an adventure, finally, when stepping through the correct entrance after thirty minutes of searching, I was welcomed with a choice of sitting wherever. There were about 20 folding chairs, and I was the only one who occupied the first row. It was a small room with a nice view of evergreens, trees, and a relatively small parking lot off to the left; kinda strange after parking into the lot that resembled a runway for passenger planes. Then here comes a youthful human being, maybe late twenties. He plays around with the laptop on the table in front of the few of us newbies, blasting some semi-relaxing guitar music, and I'm thinking, "Okay, why not," go with the flow and have fun! After another 10 minutes of waiting for potential new hires that never showed, the young man went on with a mixture of comedy and several one-sentence overviews of the company. I had to smile for support. I couldn't go off letting him feel bad in that once semi-whaling musical spotlight.

Silence domineered the next twenty minutes after that. The major surprise, I remember from that orientation is lining side by side with about six others. A heavyset bearded man came by as another figure, checking to ensure the swab test is performed right. Immediately after the test, we trailed off through another set of doors for the photo shoot. I wished I had known about that; I would have brushed and styled my hair. One week later, I walk through the entrance of my assigned building; it was no use to go any further than a few steps inside due to the heavy iron rotating bars. The first thought was, "do people try to escape from here?" It's a good thing I glanced off to the left, there was a long white table with a young man sitting behind it, and indeed that's my connection. I was so right. He gave me my badge and instructed me to get through those somewhat scary bars. I must travel along the hall to the lunchroom, and he will be there in five minutes. I had to lock both hands onto those rotating bars to get to the other side; strength was required. When I was on the other side, I thought I was at the airport with all the security and body scanners, I didn't want to move forward, but I had to. Lucky for me, one of the security men who resembled the terminator raised his arm and pointed off to the left. Jeez, there is a hallway there; everything is so white it all blended. After my long walk, the entire room opened. I never saw so many microwaves and empty tables. I kind of had to pick and choose where I wanted to sit, then I decided to keep my back facing the wall with a clear vision of who may come through the entrance there was another entrance on the other side of the room. There was a clock up on the wall, ticking away for about thirty minutes; I felt alone. Suddenly, the echo of footsteps caught my attention, and here came a semi-large group of people following behind that young man who sat behind the desk. He said with a smirk, "I bet you thought I forgot about you!" I couldn't say anything. While all eyes locked upon me, my thoughts ran wild, like, "Was this some kind of sacrifice, test driving the newbie into the unknown areas of the mind experience?" He asked everyone to have a seat, slowly fading off that squint-eyed stare, he explained a few rules, and after that, we all went on a tour, it was cool, but that wasn't my same thought after the training stage. The usual classroom experience followed, which was easy enough. After that, three older women divided us into groups, and my group went to learn how to receive incoming merchandise. It was candy-coated training for sure, and after I got used to the trainer making several mistakes himself, I thought to myself, "so easy I got this!" The trainer seemed calm, but we all know how disguises work; I shall name him the "Dutch Man."

I did great for the next two weeks, so I thought until one chubby-faced supervisor came along interrupting my progress. She explained if I didn't hit a certain quota, I was going to be written up. So, I said, "quota, seriously, I'm' busting my ass here, what's going on? She replied with a worried kind of half-smile. "If you need re-trained, let me know." The following week I came short a few points and was written up. I said, what do you want from me? I'm lifting boxes off the conveyor belt that are not supposed to be over fifty pounds into a 24 by the 24-inch stainless steel table. Slicing the boxes open as instructed, emptying out the merchandise, scanning each item, repacking, then lifting again or dividing into totes because the computer will not accept anything over fifty pounds. Some of those boxes have over 200 parts in them." She smiled and replied.

"Work harder and faster."

I wanted to pull her glasses off and explain that she need not wear them if she can't see with glasses. When you're working the line, various weights, shapes, and sizes of boxes come along the belt. Many parcels are double boxed, depends on who they are coming from. There are also those boxes that are busting through the seams, heavy and dirty. The work is fast-paced only when the person uploading the packages has the pallet ready to unpack. There are many stations to work out of, and the very end stations are the ones you do not want to be at. This is where all the problem boxes pile up after this repetitious agonizing procedure is followed day after day.

You pretty much learn what packages not to touch. Whoever is assigned to help figure out those problem boxes when you call for help does not always fix the first time around. Every box left on the end station is usually a problem. These wheeling go-cart problem solvers often possess a nasty attitude. They are also in charge of switching your station every two hours. This is due to the boxes coming on that belt, so everyone gets a fair chance, so they say. Time is of the essence; surveys often pop up on the screen. There must be an answer, even if you don't know the answer. For instance, the question may be," does so and so do a great job with safety?" You can't begin to use the computer unless you check off an answer, their pre-written answers, not one of your replies. Unfortunately, no one ever introduced themselves; I had no idea who is who. After a while, I was approached by the four-eyed girl again and a member of human resources, questioning me due to the answer I checked off. I was straight-out explained, "I don't know these people." That wasn't the end of the conversation, though, they continued to pry into my personal life, which I told them it's none of their business. I believe those surveys are put in place to protect these companies from lawsuits due to unethical working conditions; I'll explain this later.

I did great the following few weeks, only because other employees taught me the natural way to process that arriving merchandise. And that was to cheat. They see and know what goes on when supervisors are watching. The secret is not to count and not take out all the merchandise from the box. That's the only way to top your score off for the week. Then, if you're lucky, there will be several boxes containing the same item or items, which is where you only open one package as the master, scanning, pushing the others down the line. There is another problem, though, if the boxes are slow to arrive or the problem boxes are many, or the conveyors are shut off for various reasons at the worst time. There are boxes previously processed that waste a good deal of your time that should not be on those conveyors. If all the merchandise must be divided into totes, you are to cut down those empty boxes with nothing more than what felt and cut like a butter knife. Break times are fifth teen minutes. Practically every company is like this. However, working within these companies" is not always true, at least in my experience. It takes a good two or three minutes to arrive at a safe-haven cafeteria or outside wonderland experience. A sound-off will ring three minutes before the break is up. You must begin walking back to your station at that three-minute bell and be at the station upon the 15-minute bell. Although just to reach your destination was more than I bargained for, if you're stopped through the body scanners, "Lord Have Mercy!" It was a Nazi experience for me. One minute security is smiling at ya, but if something suspicious pops up on that screen, it's an unreal experience. I understood what a Jewish victim felt condemned to one of those death concentration camps! For instance, on one exit into that wonderland experience, my clear see-through purse was x-rayed. I had no idea my earphones were in my bag, and that smiling guard's expression changed in an instant! Her voice was so loud, so thunderous, that I couldn't concentrate on what she said. She became a different person. Her eyes had warped into a miserable black. A look of great bitterness swept across her face. I could go on with this experience; however, she pointed her finger to a table nearby after handing me a piece of paper, roaring out. "Go over there!"

"Jesus Christ," I said!

Then again, she roared. "Over there!"

I had a minute left of a break after a second scan was performed on me with a statement, I was instructed to write about why I had earphones in my purse, which caused me to be late. Another time I accidentally left my cell phone in my bag. Now that was a triple psychotic mind game when this male security guard looked as if the anger curled hot and unstoppable in his gut, like a blazing inferno; that wanted to burn him from the inside out! My phone was taken away while they took pictures of it. Again, I had to write a statement and wondered as to why others had their cell phones. The only conclusion is, they hide them well when exiting. I did ask why this is happening, and that person was not too bad. He didn't slam his fist down onto the table as I expected; the reply was in case secrets being stolen. I had to ask twice if he was serious. Believe me, there are no secrets; only unethical working conditions existed in that place, like many companies these days.

In the following weeks of torturous employment, the Dutch Man came along informing me my score was grueling low again and wanted to watch me perform my job. After the Dutch Man finished observing me for some time, he approached me and said, "I don't see you doing anything wrong, is there anything you want to tell me?" Well, this kicked me a good one.

I told him, "Yeah, it's not me; it's this company and these ignorant problem solvers who are supposed to help don't know their job! " Curse words flowed quite elegantly after being in captivity for so long."

He then replied. " Seriously?"

I felt like I was in a Star Trek movie talking to one of those strange creatures. I could only respond with, "Not yet." But he kept staring into my eyes. I asked. "What do you want from me to keep my score up?

He spoke. "Seven boxes a minute. That's what you must do to keep your score up. That is what this company demands!" Of course, I couldn't believe this and asked if he was sane; he replied strongly with a nod and yes. I know I looked at him like he was crazy. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving me in a paralyzed state of mind.

Soon after a terrible night of slow-moving boxes and assigned twice to the very end of these stations, the place you wished didn't exist was pure hell due to the fact, almost every box I touched was a problem box. I asked to change stations due to the vast open vacancy of stations and was told, "NO!" It was another manager who seemed to not understand work ethics. I shall name him "The Butcher." He then explained to me my production was reasonable, and in all the years, he has never seen anyone fired for a point and a half.

Then he said. "Work faster."

I walked away thinking about my question within my journey there at work and had the answer to why so many employees have marbles for eyes, "it's the freak-en speed!" Oh, and the conveyors were also shut off that evening, so it was like I can't run along searching for boxes due to the fact they weighed too much to carry back and forth. I never had a chance to make closer contact with others because employees were there one day and gone the next. It seemed the majority who has been always around lived in that wonderland, at least in my experiences.

Well, the following week, this company let me work a part of the shift one night. There came one younger man, clean dressed, short military haircut. The first observance and thought, "easily manipulated type." However, I liked him. The calm voice and demeanor were pleasant, and we took a stroll into the human resource office. As I'm sitting there, in walks a foreigner, I have nothing against anyone, although I would like to understand what they are saying. I got most of it, especially his first words to me, "I want you to know you are an outstanding worker, but your score was low." I was thinking, yeah, "by one and a half points." I had no choice but to let him know that the whole system they have going on there is "curse words followed." There is more to the story; however, it's not worth it to continue onward. Working at these Big companies is an Alice got hired in Wonderland experience, which is the end of my story. Besides that, there is some advice I'm letting out for those future souls, those who want to know what it is like to be a living, breathing zombie. I was lucky enough to be told by a whistle-blower in management after getting fired, though you can't mix the various incoming boxes when processing them. These boxes have multiple pieces of merchandise. When small packages are combined with large boxes, the rating will jump up and down. Therefore, the score may be very high one day, although it can drop way below the next day. These companies don't want anyone to know this because they want all the merchandise done as fast as possible; I'm sure they have other reasons, though, but hey, good luck in that repetitive injury waiting to happen position. My experiences are not based on one single company, and there is defiantly an age factor involved that goes unconsidered. Be careful what you sign. If you lose a body part, there could be a clause in those papers. A clause that will never let you have enough money to get you through the following year, don't even consider a lawsuit because you wavered that right when you signed up, in most cases. I highly recommend this type of employment to anyone seeking drug-related humor or a look into the modern enslavement of the future within the 21st century.

Writing...Marsha L Ceniceros