The morning is slow. I receive a vocabulary list from the United Parcel Services, a nice touch I figure, and place it upon my tintub.
_"Orientation will take place under that white tent. I know the listing said it will be four hours, but it will be closer to ten minutes, really."_
We are directed to a small white awning, propped against a dark grey shipping containing. The awning covers two tables and ten wastebaskets. The two tables are not large enough to accomodate the fifteen or so fresh recruits. Some of us stand, some pace, most stare at their phones.
Orientation was but eight minutes of paperwork. After (somewhat) joining the Union (local 63) - and agreeing to pay at least $46 in dues - I am released for the day and further instructed to await a text message with our first assignment details.
Hurry Up and Wait: the Way of Logistics.
I received the call for assignment. My training was to begin at 1415h local time. Upon arriving ten minutes early, I discover my driver is busy training another SSD (Seasonal Support Driver, the temporary title for the position.) I use the the down time to catch up some thoughts.
As far as I understand it, I will be playing the role of batman to an established driver; a dingbat free of the trenches.
Coordination is not easy. Mobilising a platoon-sized work force of our average citizenry is even harder. I ha e few qualms waiting around. I would prefer to be paid, I suppose - further evidence of the Obsession of Coin infecting me also - but if I can sit under a tree with my LitPak and some water, I will be content.
I strike up a conversation with a manager on his smoke break. An engineering major and former marine, he has been with the United Parcel Service for seventeen years and currently oversees roughly "four hundred guys" from here to Arizona. A commendable career, to be sure.
He thinks things worsened for him after the Teamster agreement, and has daily headaches caused by Artificial Intelligence being further incorporated into the dispatching process. He takes a call mid-sentence and leaves me to my patience.
Well what a boring, drab, and poorly run position this was. My trainer hardly had nine minutes for me. I am _still_ not certain what exactly the point of my position was.
At dinner this night, whilst my parents watched a ridiculous Irish Drama, I wondered if we as humans always feel the need to deem ourselves important. Or, at least, more important than our neighbour. What an earthly aspiration.