Day Four

As some old disco queen warbled back in the tail end of the 70s, what a difference a day makes. There is suddenly work to do. Unfortunately it is bull work and I am feeling my age as a result. We have a big and important client undertaken audit coming up and I have been commissioned to help rearrange the staging area for boxes and supplies. Thus for two days running I have been working with my back and the literal sweat of my brow. I was quite the perspiring mess at the end of work yesterday. Today bodes darkly for more of the same.

But am I complaining? Yes. I suppose I am. In the larger picture however I have a job and soon my bank account will reflect that. I will be able to put away my credit card, that evil bit of plastic that has been my sole source of money for several weeks running. My coffers will soon be in the black and I will be able to undertake some needed self care. In the mean while it is as any 12 Step adherent could tell you one day at a time.

Now let us turn our attention to the plant itself, a modern day cinder block constructed machine shop some 150 by 100 yards in length and width. The facility is divided in half by a centralized walk way. The side I work on is called Production. The other is referred to as Insertions and the chief function of that realm is the filling of envelopes with paperwork and accompanying plastic card which are then sealed inside an envelope. The insertion machines do the great majority of the work. It is the operators main function to feed and monitor the machines and sort the finished work into appropriate bins.

Production is primarily focused on the manufacturing of cards, for instance our company is now under contract with Macy's to produce 13,000,000 credit cards by early October. That is the main reason why the plant is running three shifts a day, seven days a week. As to how I figure in all this, my major function is to act as a liaison between the production machinists and the warehouse crew. I also have been charged with inspecting/monitoring each production side machine three times a day to see if it has the exact number of ink cartridges that have been assigned to it. I've yet to find any machine or machinist errant in that regard.

Through out all this the machines on both sides of the divide create a din and clatter, each machine with its own rhythm and syncopated sounds. I can't help but think of the overall noise as a dada inspired symphony.