The Post Office
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Monday was sunny like springtime, unseasonably warm, and then a huge hailstorm and wicked thunder in the evening, and when I woke up on Tuesday there'd been accumulations of snow.

Some of this is familiar from Februaries in Seattle when I was a kid, but never one thing after another like yesterday and today.

My first eight hours doing postal work was mind- and leg-numbing. I stood beside an enormous sorting machine that's about a block long, with a conveyor belt on the top that carries packages, and automatically dumps each package off the conveyor belt, based on its zip code, down chutes and into one of hundreds of jumbo-size bags — different bags for each small geographical area.

I was one of a large crew of people standing beside this mammoth machinery. Our assignment was to replace the bags as they're filled with packages, then label the freshly-filled bag and toss it into the appropriate enormous wheeled cart that'll take it to trucks at the loading dock.

This was my entire shift last night — standing by the machine, replacing sacks, tying and labeling and tossing the sacks, and pre-labeling the next sacks to be used.

It kept me busy, though. Occasionally, packages landed on the floor instead of in a sack. More rarely, packages got stuck in the chute.

The machinery never stops, until all the day's packages have been sorted and sacked. When employees go on a break, other employees take their spots beside the machine. It was exhausting, but the mail must go through.

Chairs are not allowed, nor are headphones. My legs held up, and I only complained once about all the standing. You might spend five minutes leaning, as nearby bags fill. Or, a bunch might get filled up at once, and you'll be sweating like a boy on his first date.

With about 45 minutes remaining on my shift, the day's last package had been sorted, and the conveyor belt was empty. We wheeled all the bag-holding frames out of the way for the janitor, and then everyone walked to the break room and did nothing until our assigned leaving time. I finished a book I'd been reading, and my book count might go up if early quitting is the night shift's norm.

I won't be working the block-long package sorting machine every night, though. I'm supposed to be sort of a utility infielder, working with any/all the enormous postal-sorting and moving machinery that fills the building, depending on any night's needs.

The guy who showed me what to do has been working at USPS for three weeks. By halfway through my first shift, I could've taught new hires to do the work. It's work so mindless I could've left my brain at home.

My impression is that this will be the most boring job I've ever had, and all the loud and complicated machinery makes it like working in the movie Brazil.

We're all supposed to punch a time clock, but none of the new hires have been given a time-card yet.

Nobody's told me my work schedule, except that I was supposed to work 6PM-2:30 AM on Tuesday night. I'm going back tonight at 6PM, not because anyone's told me to, but because there's no money in waiting around for someone to call me and say "come to work."

I've asked co-workers about all this, and they say it's ordinary. I haven't asked my boss, because I haven't met him or her yet.

At orientation, and even in the email telling me when and where orientation would be, they were sticklers on shoes — you're not allowed to wear sandels, athletic shoes, canvas shoes, clodhoppers, casual flats, etc.

Well, in the break room after the line had been shut down, I noticed that none of the other employees were wearing the required footwear. None. Neither was I — I wasn't planning to buy new shoes until it felt like the job was working out.

So far, only one co-worker seems likely to get on my nerves. He's a very talkative guy who stood adjacent to me, beside the giant package-sorter.

He said that he writes a blog and has a podcast, where he likes to complain about everything that's wrong with America. I didn't ask him what's wrong with America, in his opinion, because I know what's wrong and don't care about some stranger's opinion, so I don't know whether he's left, right, or tin-foil hat.

I also hadn't asked if he has a blog.

And now, some non-work-related complaining:

Some months ago, I bought a mouse from Amazon. It's shaped 'ergonomically' (i.e., weird) but it works. Until today I'd never noticed that it has an extra button — the ordinary left-click, right-click, and scroll wheel in the middle, but also a small, unmarked button above the scroll wheel.

That button is perfectly placed for an accidental click, and several times I must've accidentally clicked it. Today I figured out that it it changes the scroll rate, from an inch on the screen to a mile. Every time I've accidentally touched it, I've had to stop whatever I was doing to reset the scroll rate through the computer's settings. That's the way God intended people to adjust the scroll rate.

I had assumed that the laptop forgetting my setting for scroll rate was an indication that it's getting old and I'd need a new laptop soon, so I'd already bought the new one (I like to plan ahead). But nope, it's just some son-of-a-bitch engineer at Amazon giving a mouse a new feature nobody asked for.

News you need,
whether you know it or not

• Worried residents near Ohio train derailment report dead fish and chickens as authorities say it's safe to return

• How Climate Change is spreading malaria in Africa

• Sarasota climate expert urges preparation for climate change as Florida faces 'triple threat'

• Greta Thunberg says world leaders not even ‘moving in the right direction’ on climate

• "Extreme situation": Antarctic sea ice hits record low

• After release of video, lawsuit claims Alabama man froze to death in police custody, was ‘likely’ placed in jail freezer

• One in 20 US homicides are committed by police – and the numbers aren’t falling

• FBI announces investigation into Harris County jail system after 32 inmates die

• Georgia police officer accused of raping, dumping body of missing 16-year-old girl's body in the woods

• She asked the police to help her husband. They killed him instead.

• Republicans launch probe into COVID origins with letter to Fauci

• Virginia Governor opposes effort to shield menstrual data from law enforcement

• South Dakota passes first law that will force trans kids to detransition

• A standing provocation: the right’s ploy to overthrow student debt relief

• Mike Pence says 'we need to' ban abortion pills nationwide in new leaked audio

Mystery links
There's no knowing where you're going

• Click

• Click

• Click

Clicks ahoy

• Media "spy balloon" obsession a gift to China hawks

• 9 rules for the Black birdwatcher

• The ruin and revival of the city that built America

• 1933 article refers to the legendary Frida Kahlo as the “wife of a master mural painter”

• Cars are rewiring our brains to ignore all the bad stuff about driving

• All Shirley Jackson Award finalists get stoned.

♫♬ Mix tape of my mind ♫

• All Who Pass By — The Shaolin Afronauts

• Crying — Roy Orbison

• Five-Hundred Miles — The Proclaimers

• The Sound of Silence — Simon & Garfunkel

• Oh Yeah — Yello

Eventually, everyone
leaves the building

• Joyce Dopkeen

• Kit Hesketh-Harvey

• Emory Kristof

• Eugene Lee

• Bob Orben

2/15/2023
Tip 'o the hat to Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf's, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate's Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I've stolen without saying thanks.
Special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S, Wynn Bruce, and always extra special thanks to my lovely late Stephanie, who gave me 21 years and proved that the world isn't always shitty.
The Post Office
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3