Ah yes. FedEx Ground. When an average person thinks of this company, they think of sending a box. Others think of sending a few boxes, or just some letters they want to get somewhere quicker than the US Mail. But when I think of FedEx Ground, I don't see the sending and receiving side. I see the other side, the side that the average person was never meant to see. What goes on behind the scenes, the real meat and bones of this global shipping conglomeration. I guess I can only say one thing to sum up my experience working at FedEx. I'll never look at a cardboard box the same way again.
It's a pretty common substance in this world, cardboard. We see it occasionally, and deal with it when we move things. We really don't give it an extra thought, it's just something we use to better ourselves. Well, I when I started working at a FedEx Ground hub, that's what I thought of cardboard too, which was not much. I went into training my first week of work with my friend Andy, who had also been hired as a package handler. It was quite an adjustment working the sunrise shift, getting up at 3:30am and then driving for an hour to get to work, so I was glad that Andy and I could take turns driving each week.
For the first three days, we didn't see any boxes at all. It was all classroom work, learning about dock safety and how to deal with hazardous materials, or "hazmats" for short. Then, on the fourth day, we were all assigned to our work areas. I was assigned to Primary Sort. Andy was assigned to Loading. Our trainer took us to our different areas. Andy's loading area was right near the entrance to the complex, but my area... gah. Primary Sort, as it so happens, was in the extreme opposite end of the hub facility. And this facility was big. Really big. Like, think of an auto manufacturing plant, only with conveyor belts carrying boxes instead of car parts. And it was upstairs. Now, keep in mind that this is an open facility, just like a dock. So out in the loading and sorting areas, there is no air conditioning or heating. And I worked at FedEx from June to August in the upstairs of this factory-like facility. I could tell the first day I started that this wasn't going to be fun.
Speaking of the jobs us package handlers do, let me explain what Andy and I did every day. Andy was a loader, so basically his job was to climb inside of trucks and load boxes. Very simple, but very hard on the body. My job as a primary sorter wasn't as physically challenging, but it was more mentally so. My work consisted of standing in front of a large metal chute in which boxes would slide down from a conveyor belt, looking at the box's zip code, and putting it on one of three belts according to the number. Zip codes starting with 0's and 9's went to red, 3's and 7's went to green, and 5's and 6's went to brown. There were a many other smaller zip code divisions to be concerned with, but I won't bore you with the details. Sound easy? Well...
Not only did I have to sort these boxes, but I had to sort 1000 of them an hour. That's a box every 3.6 seconds. And not all of these boxes were little or of normal shape, either. Some were huge. Some were heavy. Some were oblong and clumsy to handle. But there is one box in particular that every FedEx Ground package handler loathes to see coming his way. One particular product that is the bane of every primary sorter in the land. Power Wheels Jeeps. 5 feet long, 3 feet wide, 2 feet tall. 50 pounds. Cumbersome as hell. And we're not talking about just a few of these boxes. We're talking thousands of them. Fisher Price seems to be doing very well, selling these products. And just my luck, Fisher Price ships all of their merchandise FedEx. So basically, the whole summer of 2002, I was raped by large toys designed for children ages 1.5 to 4. Yay.
But it gets better. In primary sort, there are no breaks. Boxes come down that chute, and they don't stop coming down. Unless of course, there is the inevitable jam. Then one has to scramble up the chute, unclog the jam, set aside any destroyed boxes, and slide back down. I did this for 3 to 5 hours straight on average. Box after box after box after box... It's mindless work, really. Once you get the sort chart memorized, you just grab a box, look at the zip code, and throw it on the appropriate belt. Over and over. Once in a while the flow of boxes lessened, and I had a chance to rest and get a drink of water. But more than not, the chutes were overflowing, not empty. And that means more "opens" and "destroyeds." Opens are just what they sound like: boxes that are open when they come down the chute. Destroyeds I defined as any box so crushed that it could no longer hold it's shape and spews it's contents all over the chute. These boxes we had to set aside, as well as any hazmats that the unloaders didn't catch. Lifting, and sorting. Lifting, and sorting. A funny thing happens when you pick up 3000 to 5000 boxes a day. Grime gets everywhere. On your arms, on your hands, even on your chest through your shirt. This stuff seems to magically seep through all known fabrics and coat your skin with a thin layer of dirt. Just another plus of the work.
And so it went. My daily routine consisted of:
This is how it went for me all summer. Sleeping during the daylight, and working nights at a place that I loathed to see every day. It was like one long night for 2 months. Then in mid-July, Andy was laid off. They no longer needed more loaders, so they let him go. For the next three weeks, I drove to work every day by myself, dreading getting there, and driving home alone, dirty and worn out. Then came a day in early August. Something had to give. And something did.
Throughout the summer I'd been working near a certain individual who I really, really disliked. He would make sarcastic comments about my work practically every day, or just generally be a complete jerk to me. That day, he was merciless. When I got off work, I looked around as I was clocking out and started thinking. This is simply not right. He has no right to treat me like that and get away with it. I have the right to come to work every day and be free to do my job in peace, get paid, and go home. Enough. As I walked the long metal adorned walkways leading out of the building, I made up my mind.
I quit. I didn't file any report, make any scene, or say another word to that jerk. I was so sick of that place, so sick of sorting, so sick of getting up early.... I just said a few words to the head of primary sort, collected my time card, and left. I walked out of the building into to 9 am sunshine. And for the first time in months I felt relieved, relaxed, and.... happy. I got to my car and drove away from that FedEx Ground hub, and didn't look back.
All summer I made about $1200. Considering I was paid well per hour, $11.00.... but I only worked about 3 or 5 hours a day on average. Then there was paying for gas to drive the 45 miles each way every day.... gah. I quit. I quit, I quit, I quit. I made 3 times as much money the previous two summers working at an office, which was much easier.
By all means, ship your boxes FedEx. I really have no problem with the company itself. But don't work at FedEx Ground if you value your sanity. Being there every day for 2 months made me depressed, made me irritable, made me stressed.... it's just not worth it. Lugging boxes is not for me. But it's all right now. It's over. I quit, and I've never felt so good about a decision in my life.
...but I'm still allowed to be pissed about it. After all, what are rants for?