Solitude

A pounding press machine's vibrations, clanging metal, forklift's horn, steel-toed boots shuffling on the cement floor, and voices fading away with distance are all activities that exlcusively or simoultaneously can be heard. An outside observer can marvel at the structured activities. Men and women inside the company's plant press a button, watch a few sparks fly, briefly examine the once flat steel flap that's now shaped as a wheel, and start the process over again... Over and over again. It's mass production technology at its best where human and robot are expected to fuse. There can be no structural breakdowns. Period.

How long can a robot last? I guess if you apply the proper maintenance it can withstand several straight hours of wear and tear six days a week. Eventually, a chip will burn out and the robot gets sick. The robot is healed by a general practice doctor who is otherwise known as a maintenance man. How long can a human last?

It's Friday and close to 8:30 a.m. Dennis and John, two of this plant's most personable and seemingly happy-go-lucky employees, approach my desk in the lobby. You see Dennis carrying that familiar brown and tan cup with a black lid from McDonalds, while John has his usual docile smile. Naturally, I know the guilt trip is coming.

"TGIF, Phil," Dennis loudly says with that ring of sarcasm.

"It's Finish Line Friday," I loudly reply.

"Yeah, for you," as Dennis' tone of voice lowers with frustration.

I empahtize with Dennis and John, because I had a similar schedule for three straight months. They just finished working an 11 hour shift yesterday. On Saturday, they have the luxury of coming into work at 4 a.m.

The physical toll turned from tolerable to pure exhaustion. I simply couldn't handle it. One day, a physical injury turned into a blessing.

It was a cold, winter morning and a box of hubs weighing approximately 60 pounds was set on my cart. I was annoyed having to pull this extra weight. The day before, I was told to bring the box to our office. There were some defects I found. So, I obliged. I decided to slide the box off my cart and in the process, felt a sharp pain in my back after successfully placing it against the wall. The pain intensified. Something was wrong, and I saw the man who hired me who had a good business relationship with my dad outside the Quality office. I approached him.

"I just hurt my back while trying to slide a box of hubs off my cart," I told him.

"Well, can you work or not," he coldly asked.

"I think I need to see a doctor."

"Go see Dave (Quality Manager who has half a set of teeth still in his mouth)."

I went back into the office and started composing an e-mail to my job coach. Yes, when things went sour here after I was moved to the plant, I played the disability card having been diagnosed at 17 with Asperger's Syndrome. While composing this e-mail, our defacto supervisor, Donna said I can only use the computer for work-related activities. We got into a contentious argument before I finally walked out with a mug of coffee in my hand.

While walking through our machine shop where our maintenance crew works, Paul (President) was chuckling with two of our upper-management guys. He flashed a smug look at my coffee mug. I couldn't hear with all the machinery noise, but he motioned for someone to go into the Quality Office. Dave later informed me I was selfish and should've known better than "flaunt a mug of coffee in front of Paul." I told Dave we're all adults here and the double standard applied for management and employees.

While filling out an accident report, Dave had a matter-of-fact tone rhetorically asking, "You don't need to see a doctor, do you?" "Actually, I think it would be best if I did." He shrugged his shoulders and continued filling out the report. My accident placed me to where I will finish my time with this company on March 12 -- at the reception desk.

I've enjoyed my solitude here and don't miss dealing with overstressed and overworked people. Outside of here, I think they might be reasonable. I've always enjoyed reaching out to others and making them feel good about themselves. However, in a place with so much tension, this proved to be a wishful approach.

Over the past few weeks, I've reflected on these experiences and also have lost faith in humanity. Do people really just want to remain apathetic? How long will they be able to function before their mind and body becomes permanently injured in this extremely fast-paced environment? Ultimately, the main question all of you and these guys need to ask themselves is this: Do I want to live to work or work to live? As they continue to accept this authoritarian environment, I'm reminded of what the late Pat Morita's character, Mr. Miyagi said in The Karate Kid, "No such thing as bad student, only bad teacher. Teacher say, student do. No questions."

Paul, our HR Manager, and I had another contentious meeting where I thought he'd fire me. We talked for over three hours with some great talking points he used. One stood out. He said when his time on Earth is done, "I want to be remembered as someone who was compassionate and helped other people." It's one thing to say the right things, but it's quite another to apply them to action.

This meeting could've been set as something already predetermined. My job coach made the foolish decision to forward an e-mail to the HR Manager that had some unflattering things said about an obnoxious, petulant Scheduler who I work with here. "We can trust him," she kept repeating. I knew she was wrong. This reached Paul's attention, and they came to the conclusion this wasn't a good fit. I couldn't agree more.

My next endeavor will be in government or nonprofit if lucky. It will be a job where human capital is valued. I'm looking at openings where I can make a difference in people's lives. Hopefully, my passions will open the eyes of just one out there who can give me a chance. I know the reality of receiving no responses, becoming frustrated finding jobs, and receiving little to no income will be a harsh one. However, as I mentioned in a previous post, "Sometimes you have to die a few times to live life just once."