A story of trying to change jobs

This week I made an attempt to leave FedEx and start a career at the US Bank call center in my area. It seemed like a logical change. My body is broken, my pay was shit, and I was generally unhappy with the way things had gone at FedEx. At US Bank I would have been sitting in a chair all day (arguably just as bad for my back), my pay would have been better, and I would have had real opportunities for advancement. And yet, even with so many pros, I was terrified of switching to this new job. I thought perhaps it was my fear of telephones. Email and text are okay, but ask me to talk on a phone and I'll sprint in the other direction like my life depends on it. Obviously that makes willingly working at a call center a rather big decision for myself. Despite all of my fears and misgivings, I wanted to push forward and at least try.

For a little background information, I suffer from depression and anxiety. A lot of people don't see it right away or shrug it off like it's something everyone has these days. It's not like that. Depression and anxiety are serious disorders, both of which have led me to attempts to take my own life, along with other damaging behaviors. If I don't have those two troublemakers under control then the rest of my life starts to fall apart too. Some of you who have known me for a long time will know that I have made some difficult decisions in the past with seemingly little difficulty. When I was sixteen I chose to transfer from my little private school to the big public school in the area. I hid the stress well and I adapted. Most people did not know that I had a depression and anxiety disorder back then. I had known since high school, if not sooner, that something was there, eating away at me. I fought it and hid it from everyone as best as a could. Maybe some of you remember me being the quiet, reserved one at school.

Immediately after high school I chose to travel over six hundred miles away to college. For whatever reason that decision felt right, though I can't explain the feeling well, and all I really suffered from was the typical social anxiety and the nervousness from being away from home. But I handled it all really well at first. When things didn't go well with my first roommate I began to fall apart. That was when the dark cloud of depression - and it's friend, anxiety - really began to loom it's head over me. I barely made it through my first two years alive, but I came back to my third year feeling stronger after undergoing some treatment. Unfortunately, having a roommate that decides to confide in you that she has a date set for her own suicide does not help with your own mental problems and I completely shattered again. My roommates all turned against me, even though some where close friends. I was hurt more than I care to explain or remember now. I made the decision to leave that school and come home halfway through the year.

I would like to note that I have some wonderful friends left over from college and I wouldn't trade a single one of them for anything. I love them all. But I lost a lot in school, and I've found that I'm afraid of losing people I care about. That made leaving FedEx especially hard.

I made the decision to leave college very easily. It was a decision made out of desperation. I knew that if I stayed in Montana then I would most likely wasn't going to make it past my twenty-first birthday. So I left; escaped, so to speak. I knew it was the right decision. Once home I looked for employment, and when I found FedEx through a member of my church it felt right somehow, as if I knew that I would find a place to fit in there. So I made yet another big decision and began my employment with FedEx. I wasn't afraid, only a little nervous.

In all those decisions I did not doubt that it was the right one. My anxiety was under control. I felt like I was somewhat normal for once. I was still recovering from what happened in Montana, but I was starting to live again. I met my first boyfriend and fell in love for the first time. I had my heart broken and nearly lost control before I pulled myself out of a downward spiral. All this time I did everything I could to keep my anxiety in check. I survived.

When I stop taking my medication bad things happen. Every once in a while a prescription is late or there's an error of some kind. Most recently I was simply too tired to get up early before work and go get the prescriptions. That happens with depression sometimes. So we decided to switch to a twenty-four hour pharmacy where I could get my meds after work. But the transfer didn't appear to go through on two separate occasions and I ran out of meds. I started to lose it. I was nervous, my heart was racing, and I wanted to sleep all of the time. It was right at this time that I had to decide whether or not I wanted a new job at US Bank.

I wasn't sure about it from the start. I knew that it was a great opportunity, but I hesitated. I finally took it because I knew that it would be good for both me and my fiance and, hey, you never know until you try, right? Once I accepted the job and went through the steps to fill out paperwork and get verified I though I would feel a little better, but the anxious feelings about the job continued. It didn't feel right for whatever reason, but I knew I had to give it a try. I told myself I had no choice because it had worked for other major decisions I had made. I hate to quit something once I've gotten involved.

The Saturday before I started I had to go to an emergency dental appointment. I found out that there was a cavity beneath an old filling that had gotten worse. I needed a root canal. I had some pretty bad experiences with dentists as a kid and I have a deep-rooted fear of people who want to stick their hands in peoples' mouths for a living. I also lack enamel on some teeth, most likely due to antibiotics and other things I was given after I was born. I was lucky to survive birth, in some ways. So a root canal was suddenly the most terrifying, anxiety-inducing thing on earth. That coupled with starting a new job and I turned into a train wreck. It didn't help that I could see it all wearing on my fiance, which distressed me that much more. I hated knowing that I was the one hurting him in a way.

I went to the first day of training, trying to control the pain in my tooth with ibuprofen at regular intervals. That might have worked if it hadn't been turning into a migraine at the same time and causing me to constantly feel like I had to vomit. By the second day I knew I needed the pain pills to be able to function, but I can't drive on hydrocodone. I can't stay awake, either, it turns out. I informed my managers at US Bank what my situation was and that I was already missing Wednesday for the root canal. I ended up missing the second and third days of training. I was so far behind that they were going to have to struggle to catch me up. On top of that, Thursday morning I was disorganized and exhausted, though the pain was gone and I could function. I left my social security card at home, which they needed that day, and in order for me to continue working there I had to go get it immediately and bring it back. I was so tired and so lost that I decided that I was not ready to take the new job.

I flat out told them that all of this disorganization was not like me and that I was exhausted and stressed about the issues with my tooth, which still require three more dentist appointments. I wasn't ready to start a new job, even though I had been less than a week before. They were very polite, even though I was barely holding in the tears, and told me that I would be welcome back if I ever chose to reapply in the future. I have no hard feelings against US Bank. It seemed like a nice place and perhaps I will return one day to try again.

The majority of my friends and family have been there for me through this. I can't even begin to describe how grateful I am for their help and support. I couldn't do it without them. I hate feeling like I failed. Even though I know this isn't failure my disorders trick me into thinking that it is, just as they trick me into thinking that I am worthless, fat, or pathetic on other days. Every single day is a new battle in a war that I hope I will win someday, even if that day is seventy years from now. What I do know is that choosing to leave US Bank behind for the time being has lifted a weight off of my shoulders. I don't feel that it was wrong of me to decide that I needed to focus on my physical and mental health before starting a new job. Some people might be frustrated with me or angry at me. But I know that the people who really care about me are here for me.

Sometimes one door closes so another one can open. I hope that I manage to find the right door this time.

Package Handling 101 - The Mezzanine

With the arrival of my highly anticipated, week-long vacation from FedEx, I find that my head is filled with thoughts about the work I will be missing this week. Though I am supposed to be going to bed, I feel the need to share with you the secrets of the FedEx Ground Mezzanine.

I've written about loading and unloading and work conditions at FedEx, but until this last week the Mezzanine was a complete mystery to me. I knew that the privileged few who worked up there were given a radio each, with which to communicate with the control room and with maintenance. But I knew nothing of what the job itself entailed, other than that, on rare occasions, someone might be sent up there as a respite for loading downstairs. Because of that, surely it had to be an easy job, I thought.

The Mezzanine is not easy. Perhaps, physically, it is less demanding and doesn't damage the muscles in your lower back in the way that loading and unloading can. In that sense, yes, it is easier. When it comes to being able to move and make judgments quickly, it is significantly harder than any other job that a package handler might be given. The Mezzanine is a job that completely overwhelms and terrifies me, to the point where I can't even make sense of how I actually feel about it.

Boxes fly at you far fast than they do when they slide down the chute in the load ends. You have to be quick to pull trash off the rollers, identify problem boxes, and pull off boxes that need to be sent to QA. At any moment you may be called away from your post to fix a chute jam on your load end, or to check the end of sorter photo eye, where trash can make the system think there is a jam. It is on your shoulders to keep the machine that is the hub running smoothly and efficiently. You, and a few other select package handlers, are responsible.

In light of the stress that working in the Mezzanine can cause, I also have to say that it is exhilarating. I enjoy the work. Using my mind at FedEx was something I never thought I would be doing, but now I have the chance to exercise both my brain and my body. It may seem boring at times, but at any moment I may have to make a split-second decision or rush away to fix a problem that could shut down part of the system.

There are three unload wings in the hub. Therefore, there are three primary singulators where packages are separated into a single-file line. From those primary singulators, packages are sorted into four other areas; A1, A2, B1, or B2. Each side has a secondary singulator. At each primary and secondary singulator there is a Mezzanine worker posted to help separate the packages into a single-file line. Singulators received their name because of their job of separating the packages. From the secondary singulators, the packages are sent along a belt where they are scanned, their measurements are taken, and they are then whisked off to the proper chute to be loaded into a trailer. Occasionally those chutes jam near the top, if a package sticks to the metal or doesn't have enough momentum to make it past the entrance to the chute. If this happens and the photo eyes that report jams are blocked, a Mezzanine worker posted on a secondary singulator will be sent in to clear that jam with a large metal pole. Occasionally there are jams in other areas as well.

It sounds easy. But jams can happen anywhere. Just on Friday I had a box on my transporter (the belt that leads up to my singulator) flip up and get caught between the belt and the ceiling. Boxes piled up behind it, and before we could break the jam it broke free, breaking the box that had caused it and nearly taking part of the ceiling with it. I had to rush back to the singulator to meet the massive river of boxes that threatened to spill over the edge of the rail guards on the belt and slam right into me. At any other time, some other section of belt or rollers may jam, shutting the entire system down. It is our job to keep that from happening to the best of our ability.

I never would have thought that I would be offered the chance to work in the Mezzanine. I don't regret my decision to take the position, for all that the work scares me at times and I sometimes wonder if I will be able to meet my manager's expectations. I didn't think a job at FedEx could be fun.

A note concerning the statement that men should never hit women.

Twice last week I had presented to me the idea that a man should never hit a woman for any reason. The first was in a form of an image that simply presented the statement. The second time was during a conversation with a very good friend of mine. I never really knew that this was a statement I felt so strongly about until that conversation, and in this I would like to refute it. During this process I will quote my friend several times, as he is the one who brought up the points that I would like to discuss.

I want to begin by saying that, if someone hits you, whether they are male or female, you have the right to defend yourself. If they are going to hit you again, then hit back. Just because someone is a woman does not mean that you cannot defend yourself against her. When I posed this to my friend, I was given the response,

"And no I will take a beating from a woman before I swing. Not saying it wouldn't hurt, but my mom and dad raised me with manners, which is something that few people have now days."

I want to point something out. Manners refers to customs or a way of living. Saying please and thank you is, in our society, manners. Taking a beating is not. When someone hits you and intends to continue hitting you, manners do not dictate that you continue to take a beating and possibly suffer serious injury. That, simply put, is stupidity.

My second argument against the idea that men should never hit women is that it is sexist. Yes, I know that card has been played before, but I have a different take on it than some people do. I believe that it is sexist in favor of women, not against them. I believe that using this statement is a way for people to elevate the female sex above men. Why? Because it is an enabling statement. Look at it this way. If we turned the statement that men should never hit women into a rule that we had to live by, what would happen? Women could hit men as much as they wanted and the man would not be allowed to hit back. Essentially, we could do what we wanted without fear of being physically reprimanded. Men would not have that protection. Now, this is most likely not going to happen, but if this statement were put into law, then what would be to stop it from turning into a situation like this? In short, it enables women to push men around more than they already do.

Of course, I also see it as sexist against women, because I believe that it does promote a certain sense of inequality because it suggests that women are somehow more delicate, weaker than, or deserve different treatment than men. We will never be completely equal because of our physical differences, but that does not mean that we should have values that demand that men treat women better than they treat other men.

Near the beginning of the conversation, my friend made this statement:

"(not trying to be sexists) but I don't hit women. That's the right way and the way I was raised, actually since birth. And I wouldn't wanna be raised any other way. mom and dad did a good job at raising me."

Apart from the atrocious grammar and spelling, I can point out a significant mistake in this statement. Refusing to hit women is not the right way. I'm not saying it's the wrong way, either, but there is no right way, whether it was the way you were raised or not. Since we're talking about what I think here, I will say that it is both the wrong and the right way. Should you hit a woman for a reason other than self defense? No. That's not acceptable. Should you hit a woman if she is throwing punches, running at you with a knife, or otherwise threatening your well being? Yes! Getting seriously injured just because you won't hit a woman is stupid.

I want to make one final point concerning this statement. Unless it's in self defense or to protect someone else, you should never hit anyone. Not women. Not men. Not children. Not adults. Hitting is not okay. Ever. Women aren't the only ones men shouldn't be hitting. Men shouldn't be hitting each other. Men shouldn't hit children. How come those statements aren't running around along with "men should never hit women"? Where is the statement that says women should never hit men?

This statement is flawed, wrong, medieval, and no longer relevant to society today. No, men shouldn't run around hitting women. This is true. But you should defend yourself if attacked by a person, not let yourself get hurt because the person is female. Nor should women hit men, because that is equally unacceptable. Women have been victimized by men throughout history, but there are also men who have been victimized by women. We're not equal. We never will be. But that doesn't mean we need to continue to hang onto such an unequal, narrow-minded, foolish statement.

We are all human. Humans should never hit humans.