It’s been a quiet week. Very quiet! I have found myself daydreaming, looking at the clock, fast forwarding a couple of hours and thinking about what may be happening at the Sheraton on Denerau Island, Fiji. The “Feast” restaurant would be filling for the buffett dinner as would the more upmarket “Flying Fish’ with it’s sand floor and predominantly seafood cuisine. The stream of faceless tourists, the endless circuits of the “Bula Bus” and the veneration of the greeting “Bula” would be in full cry, but for the locals who earn their living in these resorts it would be just another day of toil, catering to the petty needs of arrogant Australians and others, people who for the most part have no sense of anyone but themselves. It’s a living I suppose but the constant pandering to the hordes who congregate in the resorts and the need to be forever friendly would grate on the kindliest of souls eventually.
Yesterday, as I entered the workfloor, the apprehension I had been feeling towards the day evaporated somewhat and the thought of spending the ensuing hours in my own version of a worthless job didn’t seem as bad as it normally is. I was unusually calm and serene as I plotted my efforts for the day, knowing it was to be nothing more than the repetitive slog that I am use to. Perhaps I have finally settled back into the groove after my two weeks leave and life, returning to normal has conditioned me for what lies ahead each evening. Still, it was a dull day and each second on the clock seemed to weigh more than it should, the wonder of how I ended up here and the ambition to do something more creative with my life is a constant tickle in the back of my mind.
Dave and Neal, the two fellows I have the most to do with on the floor are both on leave for a month. I didn’t realise how reliant on both of them I am for my entertainment during the long, dreary evenings in the “happiness factory”. Until they were both gone!
It doesn’t auger well for the future. Dave is nearing sixty, his health a bit of a worry and retirement is always gnawing at him. I think if he could afford to leave he would. Finances keep him pinned in place. He is tied to the fire with the rest of us. No white knight is riding to the rescue. It’s a bitter fight to the finish for him.
Neal is a different kettle of fish altogether. He is an MPC3, basically a shift supervisor. He was one of the first people I met when I came out of the training school, oh so many years ago.
I had just turned seventeen and he was in his early twenties. Despite the long hair he sported at the time, and his “tree people” attitude, I liked him right off the bat. It’s hard not to but there are plenty who would disagree.
He is quite a complicated fellow although he doesn’t seem so on the surface. Still waters run deep. For someone who is among the most affable people I have ever met, he sure annoys a lot of the folk with whom we work.
Part of it is his supervisory role. No one likes being told what to do and Neal’s latent streak of arrogance can occasionally rise to the surface as he directs traffic on the floor, his own demons tormenting him, the subdjugation of his freedom by his own superiors jading him, causing him to lash out in his own way, to the chagrin of some of his subordinates on his shift, often causing a sharp rebuke to come his way, sometimes heavy verbal abuse. I too have been guilty of some of this behaviour. Sometimes I was right, sometimes wrong. But in verballing Neal badly, I was always wrong. Even when he was too.
He is a sensitive soul and whenever it has become apparent that his behaviour has upset someone he never fails to apologize. He is a bigger man than me in that respect.
As he rose through the ranks he became part of a tight management team to whom he gave great loyalty, sometime to the detriment of the friendships he had formed earlier in his career. Another red flag which caused him problems. Not being able to judge a good order from a bad one from the higher levels he maintained a black and white attitude to what he did, common sense sometimes absent, stupidity reigning as it often does when those chosen to manage staff get it wrong as they often do. Another cause of tension and unpopularity for him.
With a changing of the guard in the management ranks a few years ago, Neal no longer has the confidence of his superiors and the trust which was placed in him before has evaporated, leaving him struggling, his rigid nature unable to cope with his changing situation. He is angry, frustrated and seemingly lost. But much more human. Much more like the “old” Neal who I first met. A jolly good fellow.
Like the rest of us he is looking for more from his working life but he seems trapped in the morass with the rest of us, battered by the prevailing winds of change over which we have no influence or control. He comes in every day, bottom lip dragging on thr ground, depression consuming him. It’s a worry.
The personal relationship he has with a lady we work with, a situation which has gone on for twenty years is a very odd one and he never talks about it. That is his way but I don’t think it is healthy. I don’t want to denigrate her as she is a pleasant person but he could get so much more out of life if he broadened his horizons, cut loose his baggage and got out and met some new people. But he is unable to break the shackles of his past. I don’t know where he is headed. Down the pottholed road to nowhere one feels. It is a shame.
None of us like the work. We build a life outside which enables us to operate for the eight hours we are required to earn a living. Then we return home and start living properly again. If only Neal could find it within himself to even edge forward that far, life would improve for him, He deserves it.
Have a nice day.
Yesterday, as I entered the workfloor, the apprehension I had been feeling towards the day evaporated somewhat and the thought of spending the ensuing hours in my own version of a worthless job didn’t seem as bad as it normally is. I was unusually calm and serene as I plotted my efforts for the day, knowing it was to be nothing more than the repetitive slog that I am use to. Perhaps I have finally settled back into the groove after my two weeks leave and life, returning to normal has conditioned me for what lies ahead each evening. Still, it was a dull day and each second on the clock seemed to weigh more than it should, the wonder of how I ended up here and the ambition to do something more creative with my life is a constant tickle in the back of my mind.
Dave and Neal, the two fellows I have the most to do with on the floor are both on leave for a month. I didn’t realise how reliant on both of them I am for my entertainment during the long, dreary evenings in the “happiness factory”. Until they were both gone!
It doesn’t auger well for the future. Dave is nearing sixty, his health a bit of a worry and retirement is always gnawing at him. I think if he could afford to leave he would. Finances keep him pinned in place. He is tied to the fire with the rest of us. No white knight is riding to the rescue. It’s a bitter fight to the finish for him.
Neal is a different kettle of fish altogether. He is an MPC3, basically a shift supervisor. He was one of the first people I met when I came out of the training school, oh so many years ago.
I had just turned seventeen and he was in his early twenties. Despite the long hair he sported at the time, and his “tree people” attitude, I liked him right off the bat. It’s hard not to but there are plenty who would disagree.
He is quite a complicated fellow although he doesn’t seem so on the surface. Still waters run deep. For someone who is among the most affable people I have ever met, he sure annoys a lot of the folk with whom we work.
Part of it is his supervisory role. No one likes being told what to do and Neal’s latent streak of arrogance can occasionally rise to the surface as he directs traffic on the floor, his own demons tormenting him, the subdjugation of his freedom by his own superiors jading him, causing him to lash out in his own way, to the chagrin of some of his subordinates on his shift, often causing a sharp rebuke to come his way, sometimes heavy verbal abuse. I too have been guilty of some of this behaviour. Sometimes I was right, sometimes wrong. But in verballing Neal badly, I was always wrong. Even when he was too.
He is a sensitive soul and whenever it has become apparent that his behaviour has upset someone he never fails to apologize. He is a bigger man than me in that respect.
As he rose through the ranks he became part of a tight management team to whom he gave great loyalty, sometime to the detriment of the friendships he had formed earlier in his career. Another red flag which caused him problems. Not being able to judge a good order from a bad one from the higher levels he maintained a black and white attitude to what he did, common sense sometimes absent, stupidity reigning as it often does when those chosen to manage staff get it wrong as they often do. Another cause of tension and unpopularity for him.
With a changing of the guard in the management ranks a few years ago, Neal no longer has the confidence of his superiors and the trust which was placed in him before has evaporated, leaving him struggling, his rigid nature unable to cope with his changing situation. He is angry, frustrated and seemingly lost. But much more human. Much more like the “old” Neal who I first met. A jolly good fellow.
Like the rest of us he is looking for more from his working life but he seems trapped in the morass with the rest of us, battered by the prevailing winds of change over which we have no influence or control. He comes in every day, bottom lip dragging on thr ground, depression consuming him. It’s a worry.
The personal relationship he has with a lady we work with, a situation which has gone on for twenty years is a very odd one and he never talks about it. That is his way but I don’t think it is healthy. I don’t want to denigrate her as she is a pleasant person but he could get so much more out of life if he broadened his horizons, cut loose his baggage and got out and met some new people. But he is unable to break the shackles of his past. I don’t know where he is headed. Down the pottholed road to nowhere one feels. It is a shame.
None of us like the work. We build a life outside which enables us to operate for the eight hours we are required to earn a living. Then we return home and start living properly again. If only Neal could find it within himself to even edge forward that far, life would improve for him, He deserves it.
Have a nice day.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 