Vilifying UPS through icy stories

Everyday my ice-laden uniform and wet boots go in front of this heat duct with hope that they will dry enough to wear the next day.

I’m a UPS driver helper. I work nearly 40 hours per week jumping in and out of a loud, brown van carrying packages in the rain, snow and sleet.

I work with a UPS veteran whose allegorical tales of driving should one day be compiled into a memoir. If ever published, the cover would cite the New York Times Book Review saying, “Profoundly uninteresting … The Boys in Brown is an emotional rollercoaster through the mind of any person who hates their job in 21st century suburbia. A solid reason why there are metal detectors installed at UPS buildings.”

I don’t think we make eye contact but once or twice per day. He drives and talks. I deliver and listen.

Since the last post more than 30 days ago, I’ve managed to accrue enough money to graduate from college debt free, which was my goal. Earning that money, however, was not without cost.

The main cost was nearly my sanity and I’m pretty certain almost my life a couple times (e.g. – one dog bite, one van spin-out, and two near misses by speeding cars).

Monotony
function: noun
pronunciation: \mə-ˈnä-tə-nē, -ˈnät-nē\

Knowing that everyday will cause you the same amount of nearly unendurable physical pain and mental suffering as the day before, but knowing you must still get out of bed in the morning five days per week.

My breaking point:
Being soaked from head to toe at hour eight of a ten-hour day carrying a 40-pound package up a quarter-mile, uphill driveway in an ice storm. Finally making it back to the truck, we notice the house to which the package was supposed to be delivered.

My sanity point:
Knowing that it’s only a few weeks and knowing that it's self-inflicted.

His breaking point:
Working with the same people out of the same building since he was 18 years old. He earned his MBA through evening classes. His recent-undergrad-alumni superiors treat him like a child and hold the carrot of promotion just out of his reach to quell any outbursts of undesirable behavior.

His sanity point:
He’ll be eligible for retirement in a few years. Two months of vacation time each year.

What good are complaints and oh-woe-is-me tales without a lesson? Lessons learned at the next post...