Monday December 24th 2012
Those of us who have spent time within the confines
of a Fulfillment Center will be familiar with a phenomenon that begins
to proceed apace at this time of year. You come back from the
State mandated "fifteen minute break with pay," smile at you
neighbor, roll the eyes and otherwise signal associative-ness.
There's a bonhomie, to use the French word, a camaraderie which is
a word that looks better if it starts with a 'K', but which if it starts
with a 'K' it does not pass the spell test, or when uttered in public
subsumes a person to the bottom layer, a category that includes
Then you turn to the lonely business of
maintaining a 'productivity,' which is a measure through mathematics
of 'quality and quantity,' around which the ambitions of managers revolve in
their never ending quest to achieve what I guess must be some idea of their
own perfection as measured against the perfection of others of their rather
unpleasant and venal kind. And oddly enough in that part of the
Fulfillment Center that occupies me, the manager has his picture on
the department's notice board, and under his name is the word 'owner.'
When the Afternoon arrives there's "Jingle Bells" through the loud speakers
and you look up to grin at your neighbor, but your neighbor is gone,
disappeared. It's to the Rapture perhaps, to the infinite made
possible, but more likely it's to a winter without work.