Yes, that's right, it's my fault. Snowstorms? My fault. Wind? That's me. Icky drizzle? Me again. Thunderstorms this afternoon? Let's wait and see, but you'll know why. Yesterday on my bike, I fought through the wind, with gusts up to 26 mph, both to and from work. This morning it was a miserable drizzle, plus wind. Like I said before, I don't think God likes me and is trying to annoy me with the weather. I suppose there is some unconfessed sin in my life that is the cause of all this, but I'm too lazy to do an "inventory" to figure it out. Also, it would take too long. I'm waiting for some blanket amnesty to clear this all up, but for now you'll just have to bear with me.
Not everything is bad though. At work we get deliveries from FedEx, my former employer, fairly frequently. The last two times our delivery courier, Ron, has stopped in he's had a manager with him on a check-ride. They are grading him on his "Best Practices," the standard routine that some pointy-headed engineers have deemed must be followed at each stop. Lock your truck. Use the grab bar entering and exiting the vehicle. Carry the keyring on your pinky finger so you don't have to dig for it. Shoe your tracker in the DADS unit while getting into your seat. Grab your seatbelt while simultaneously putting the keys in the ignition and starting the truck. There's so much more, not even connected to driving. Demerits for not following set routine. I knew plenty of couriers who would smoke their routes every day without these helpful suggestions. But rules are rules. FedEx always had that big brother mentality, your manager could look at your route trace and start grilling you about why you took too long at any one stop. How about chatting up the customers?
My experience there wasn't all bad. I loved the people I worked with. Our station was such a mishmash of races, political views, ages, sexual orientations, all working together to get the job done. I remember one summer day I was in a downtown elevator drenched in sweat after humping some stupid delivery to the customer (on time). A woman got in the elevator, took one look at me and asked, "Do you like your job?" I told her I could do without the stress, but I really, really liked the people I worked with. She got this wistful look and said, "That's so nice." It's all moot now. In their infinite wisdom, the bean counters and engineers have concluded that MICA is redundant and they will be closing the best damn station in the system come September.
Fast-forward to today. Now I sit at a desk at the lowest stress job I've ever had, except maybe for the bookstore. My worries here? Telling Jon we need to quit buying junk and selling the stuff we have. I also get to drink coffee all day long. But I wouldn't trade my FedEx days for nuthin.
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2 comments:
Oh, come on. What kind of stress did you have at BGEA? Except maybe worrying about infestation by vermin from all the food that was stashed in the desks around that mail room?
Try staying awake.
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