All posts by X Teri

Workers

This is a long post. It’s not funny. A few people might read it and take offense or exception to it. Such a defensive response only happens when someone is speaking the truth, usually one that isn’t favorable. I have hundreds of stories.

Last December, a woman was basically decapitated while cleaning pizza-making machinery. She was doing so without being able to lock out the machinery. It seems preposterous to most of us. But not to me. She had less protection than most because she was working as a temporary employee. Many of these facilities are operated and cleaned by employees who don’t have a lot of options, much less training. Even with both things being true, the financial pressure exerted to be efficient tends to overwhelm even common safety measures. This happens all across the United States every single day of the year. People are expected or required to work faster and to cut corners. Companies tend to say the right things when it comes to safety, but so many employees go to work every day knowing that they will have to cut corners to get the job done with the staffing and time allotted. It’s no secret that most companies cut labor costs. Fewer people are expected to do more while maintaining the quality of whatever they’re producing while simultaneously building a house of cards in regard to safety.

When I was very young, I was involved in an absolutely astounding case involving food safety that also dovetailed with personal safety. It had such a huge impact on my attitude. Working in a dairy removed any doubt as to the process of what goes into milk.

Later, although years ago, when I worked at a food manufacturing facility, I watched a lot of this happen. I had several near misses, a couple of which I still sometimes dream about. One of them could have easily ripped my head off, and only luck kept it from happening. The machine was a huge rapid cooling machine with interconnected mobile shelves connected to a dual elevator. It was -40° and 40 plus feet tall. A huge bank of powerful motors constantly roared to feed the gigantic cooling coils.

Prior to my introduction to the machinery, a maintenance person had almost been cut in half by the moving elevator portion of the apparatus. It was interesting hearing management’s perspective on this. The maintenance person survived but was severely impacted by the injuries for the rest of his life. It wasn’t until I became responsible for the machine on my shift that I realized just how pernicious the demands of efficiency were and how they constantly violated safety protocols.

I had subcutaneous frostbite on both knees from working on the incredibly cold surfaces. Getting shots behind one’s kneecaps is not something I recommend. When I’m about to do push-ups, I go through long periods where I have to use one knee to kneel. Otherwise, there’s a strange pain that has lingered through the years. I’m sure some of my hearing loss is attributable to those roaring fan systems.

Working in negative 40° environments required very specific and expensive protective footwear. Many employees, especially those from staffing agencies, were not given proper footwear and often had to work in this environment with rubber boots. I know it sounds like I’m exaggerating. There was more than one occasion when I took the employee and bought him boots, using my own money, that would protect him. And even those weren’t up to the expected standard demanded of the machine. On one occasion, my middle manager threatened to write me up or fire me if I bought boots for another employee again. He was angry that it made him look bad. Shame would have been a better response. Had Jesus been in the room, someone would have been smitten.

When management would decide it was time to defrost the system, the engineers who developed it indicated it needed at least 3 days without use simply to defrost it to the correct temperature. Of course, management allotted less than a day. Even though it cost millions of dollars to construct the immense machine on an insulated pad, It was no surprise that huge cracks formed in the foundation constantly. The powerful drive shafts constantly failed as the junction boxes warped. Metal shelves weighing hundreds of pounds fell or got hung constantly.

At one point, I fell about 20 ft from the elevator platform. My padded freezer suit helped lessen the fall. I didn’t break anything but was impossibly sore for several weeks. A co-worker was on the platform with me at the time. He later said he was certain that he was witnessing a death. In some ways, I was a much different person back then. Had the wrong thing been said to me about this incident or ignorant questions about safety protocols implemented at the time, I would have handed them a list of several hundred contributing factors that had not been addressed. Everyone knew we were running the operation under the “wink” system. Just remember the Manhattan Project and the first nuclear bomb if you’re not sure what the “wink” system is. While the scientists were certain that the first nuclear bomb would not ignite the entire planet, the people authorizing the project would have proceeded anyway. They wanted a bomb and a test to prove its viability. The infinitesimally small risk of setting the entire planet ablaze wasn’t much of a concern.

Despite the fact that there were very rigid protocols on paper for correcting mechanical issues, the truth is that there was enormous pressure from management to do whatever had to be done to keep the machine operating. Half of the plant’s food production required the use of the machine for chilling or freezing. Some of this is also why I shake my head at our alleged USDA inspection system. The truth is that companies producing food are given too much leeway to monitor their processes. Time and time again, food-borne illnesses prove that processes can’t be trusted. Trust God but keep your powder dry.

When I read restaurant inspections, all of the swirls in my head. The people who own restaurants have a complete list of requirements. They are a part of doing business. Yet, when inspected, a wild variety of problems get noted. And most of these have been going on for a while when they are caught. Again, some of it is due to improper behavior by employees. Noting that, however, never negates the obligation of the people in charge of the restaurant to ensure that things are done correctly. It is their job to hire, train, and keep people functioning safely. The blame always falls on the people whose job is to ensure standards adherence.

When I worked at the food facility, I wasn’t proud that I ducked participating in the alleged defrosting and cleaning of the system. There were a lot of accidents during these shenanigans. I’m not sure how to characterize what we were supposed to be doing versus the objective. There was no correlation in reality. I can say that most of the motivation for doing it was to satisfy the perception that we were cleaning and maintaining the machine properly. A couple of times, I probably should have been fired for not participating. I expected to come back to the immense department to a vertical crack in the machine platform, similar to after an earthquake.

Everything about it was handled improperly. Both from a food safety perspective and its mechanical operation. People who had no knowledge of the apparatus were constantly making outrageous decisions about every facet of its operation. Were the department and machine mine, I would have required lengthy training for everyone associated with the machine. But we were constantly tasked with doing whatever we had to to keep it running, with people walking in off the street or from staffing agencies. The language barrier wasn’t a problem for me because I speak Spanish. But none of the operational or safety literature was provided in other languages. Even if it were, we were never going to be allotted sufficient personnel or time to train people. Most days, we felt exactly like Lucy as she attempted to eat all the chocolates as they went past her.

There were a couple of other operators whom I trusted with my life with that machine. (Because I was trusting them with my life.) We were often in the machine while it was operational. It was during one of those occasions when I was inside, and one of the operators I trusted was attempting to keep the machine operational in order to keep the plant moving. The sweep arm moving product was behind me as I observed the mechanical arms in conjunction with the photo sensors. It hung up and dropped just as I stepped away. It caught me across the back of the neck and shoulders and began pulling me. I realized immediately that I had to act fast. So I fell to the floor a couple feet ahead of the horizontal shelving. Had I not done so, I would have lost my head.

One afternoon, I was lying on the conveyor system, attempting to keep the output window functional. I’d been in there several minutes, and my nose was running freely. It’s important to remember that the huge banks of fans were blowing hundreds of horsepower of wind through the machine while I was in it. You learn to ignore a runny nose or wait until it freezes on your face. Once it freezes, you forget about it. My face mask had hardened too much, so I pulled it up to be able to breathe. Since the system was running, I rolled over to avoid getting pushed out of the narrow output window. On each side was a stainless steel gear case encompassing the conveyor system gears. As I rolled over, my face made contact with the stainless steel that was around -40°. My face stuck instantly to the metal. Because the product was coming out at my feet, I rolled again, and as I did so, the mucus from my nose that had instantly froze stuck to the metal gearbox. It took me several minutes to realize I lost the skin across the side of my nose and above my lip. That’s what that kind of extreme cold will do.

I don’t dream about that machine much anymore. I tend to have them if I have a fever. Most involve injury or metal platforms falling off the elevator system from 40 feet in the air.

When I see news stories, especially ones that have marked similarities to what I experienced, I get irritated again. Because I know that more people will get injured or die. It’s true that some of these cases are a result of the employee being negligent through their own fault. Is it a secret that we can be stupid? It’s equally true that another portion of these are the consequence of employees being required to do things unsafely or too quickly in order to get the job done. People who are not familiar with such industries or jobs object and say that the solution is for the employees to simply refuse. The work world does not work that way for most of us. Most of the things you enjoy, from your chicken sandwich to your phone, get produced through the efforts of countless people who are risking their safety constantly.

If you’ve never stood on a production line needing to go to the bathroom but can’t, or you’ve realized that the only reason your job exists is because that machine can’t do it, you’re lucky. You can say that a particular person can get another job. That’s true. But our production machinery requires someone to do these jobs. If it’s not you, it must be someone. A lot of ‘someones.’ Not that it’s related to this post, but in part, this is why I get so annoyed at those who object to the idea of a living wage. If we expect people to be in those jobs, those jobs exist because we expect the result to be available to us. Whether it’s a hamburger or our car washed. Anyone performing a job that we require through our choices should be able to pay their bills based on that exchange of time for money. As for whether someone who unclogs a toilet deserves to make as much as someone providing healthcare, the answer is that it’s complicated. I certainly expect my sewage to disappear and don’t need to wonder too long about what happens if it doesn’t. That result is valuable. We need brain surgeons. But go a week without a working toilet and see how quickly you dream of working pipes.

There’s a whole hidden world of production and service around us. If you’ve never seen it, you might see the story I mentioned at the beginning of this post and easily shake your head at the stupidity of the person who was injured or killed. I have the opposite perspective. I know that in most cases, that employee was put into a position most of the time where reality imposed a different set of rules. She came to a job with minimal training, a language barrier and quickly saw how other employees got the job done. She did not have a lot of options regarding work. I am certain she was glad to be employed in order to live and provide for her family.

We need our world of workers. It’s easy to fall into the trap of failing to respect that they are assuming a risk each day they work. The very people who need our support the most often get scorn for the jobs they’re doing.

There’s much more I could say, even though you might look at the length of this post and wonder how that’s possible. I’m pragmatic about work. Most of us are. Even when I’m loving my job, I often think of the hundreds of thousands of people doing more with less for less money. I might not be at risk of literally losing my head while doing my job, but somewhere, someone is.
X

Infectious Memory

One song which gets my feet tapping is “Dedication To Me Ex” by Lloyd. It’s infectious and gets stuck in my head like a badly-thrown ax. There’s something about the funky old-school feel of the song that’s never aged for me.

Years ago, I was blasting it on the work computer, filling the warehouse with the vibe of the song. I downloaded a mess of songs, most of which I’d never heard before. I still play it at high volume at 3-4 a.m.

A co-worker came running up to say, “X, you can’t play THAT song in here. You’re gonna get in trouble.” I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Why? It’s a cool song!”

My coworker looked at ME like I was crazy. “Yeah, it is a great song, but it’s dirtier than Grandma’s Sunday dish towel.”

He walked toward the back where I keep the computer loaded with music. He listened for about a minute and returned.

“Huh! I’ve never heard that version before, X.”

“What other version is there?” My coworker still thought I might be joking with him.

“Well, he isn’t talking about love in the version I know. Look it up, and you’ll see why.” He laughed about almost running to the back to shut it off when he heard it begin playing.

I did listen to it a little later, the explicit version. He wasn’t kidding.

The weird thing? I didn’t watch the video until a couple of months ago. There is both a clean and an explicit version of the video, too.

This song, and a few others like it, pulled me out of a funk this morning. I lit the warehouse up with booming energy. I sometimes remember my coworker’s face as he ran up to me, wondering if I might lose my job.

X

P.S. I remember the first time I heard the newer song “Favorite Song” by Toosii. I’m not a fan of his music. I heard the song without knowing the artist – a habit that I love doing. There’s something undeniably hypnotic about the chords and melody. I’m the same way about the artist Lloyd. I’m not drawn to any other songs of his I’ve heard. And that’s okay with me.

Doubtful!

I start these kinds of posts by saying, “I’m a liberal, but…” Every person needs to be DNA profiled at birth. Not just for paternity but also for identification. We all submit fingerprints and other biometric data, as well as register for selective service. Of course, such data can be misused. Everything can be misused and often is. I still participate in GEDmatch, the service which law enforcement uses to compare DNA for crimes. My DNA allows investigators to triangulate relatives across generations and an incredible number of people. Obviously, this is a problem for people who mistakenly believe they avoid detection due to choosing to have no DNA samples taken. DNA belongs to all of us, whether we like it or not. For example, if they can guess someone’s age within a few years, they can identify almost everyone by taking a random DNA sample from anything. Anonymity is a smokescreen, just like privacy.

It’s also spectacular to see archaic/ancient DNA family members, such as the Neanderthals 49,000 years ago. What’s fascinating is that Erika and I overlap with almost all the known ancient DNA samples. It is wild to think that we have common ancestors 2000+ generations ago who moved across the continents and started new lineages that once again converged. This is true for most of us. We usually only think of the last few hundred years for ethnicity. The reality is not so short-sighted; most of us derive from the same vast gene pool hidden in the shadows of forgotten and unrecorded history.

Rarely does a day pass when I don’t think momentarily about the satisfaction of knowing my suspicions about my family were true. My relatives kept secrets for their own selfish reasons, blissfully unaware that technology would soon rip the ability to conceal truth and people from the rest of us. I missed decades of knowing a sister was out there, that my cousin Jimmy had a daughter he would have loved to get to know. I am certain there are other surprises and people on the fringes of being discovered. I waited almost a decade to find my sister.

As gigantic as my family tree is, I still have several ‘floaters’ who escape placement. When I first started, I had my grandma’s family tree back for hundreds of years. It was obvious by five or six generations that somewhere along the line, the parents attributed to them were not biologically related. I deleted dozens of generations from my family tree branches as a result. I still love family trees. The research, the triangulation, and the discovery. But none of it compares to the black magic science of DNA, the stuff that literally codes us. It also makes the inevitability of one day having a billion-person family tree a reality. With incredibly sophisticated computers, not only will everyone’s DNA be codified, but each of us will be woven into the most complex family tree ever imagined.

In theory, each of us has 128 5th-great grandparents. I have only about 1/2 in my family tree, and a portion of those are due to DNA only. Due to pedigree collapse, this is often not the case. (A fascinating concept in itself.) Going back further into history, our trees were not coned-shaped. Due to the mule rule, most marriages happened within the range of 2nd cousins or closer. Most people lived their lives in a 5-mile radius. You can’t trust family trees based on paper trails and documents. At least a 1/3 of such trees become inaccurate by the time your great-grandparents are involved. This is true even if the best researcher in the world does your family tree. DNA steps in to fill gaps you didn’t even realize were there. I don’t look at family trees like I once did thanks to this. They simply are not reliable.

Intermittently, the databases used to calculate ethnicity get updates. More people participate, and science gets increasingly more exact. It’s the perfect analogy for science; what you think you know evolves with new information. Whatever you identify as it’s usually an agreed-upon and arbitrary association when you factor in the span of modern human history.

I am in awe of the science. I’m certain that as our curiosity builds in tandem with technology we’re going to find even more striking revelations built into the tiniest components of the cells of our body. For many, this is troublesome. Not for me. It’s a revelation of discovery.

Love, X

Ceraunophile


This is a fancy word for lightning lover. The meteorological kind, not one afflicted with a lack of bedroom longevity. It’s a word without a certain je ne sais quoi, which is a French phrase meaning, “Don’t stand under a tree when it is lightning.” I probably took some liberty with the definition of that. The French gave us a statue that basically gives me the inalienable right to make stuff up.

My cat wanted no part of the light show this morning.

I got absolutely drenched standing outside watching it. At times, the streaks of lightning branched into dozens of tendrils. Oddly, it made me a bit melancholy despite the fierce beauty of it.

Cursing Squirrel

Corky the squirrel ranted at me for a couple of minutes. I accidentally walked right up upon him as he sat on the transformer dining on tidbits left by a fellow animal lover. I didn’t see him. Because I startled him, he did a flip on top of the transformer, crouched down to give me the evil eye, and then leaped up the tree a couple of feet to stare at me further. I  That’s when the rant commenced.  Though I don’t speak Scuirusese, the official language of squirrels, I did catch the sounds for trespass and butthead. I took a picture and then reached up toward him and he didn’t move. After a few seconds of me staying motionless in that position, he fluffed his tail up in indignation and casually went up the tree and out of sight. I’ll leave him some food offerings later today or tomorrow in penance.
X

Shenanigans?

I used points to get this roll of “for rectal use only” labels at no cost. Something compelled me to purchase it. What kind of shenanigans could I possibly get into with such an amazing item?
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Yestreen

Yestreen

This is another word that fell out of usage. It literally means yesterday evening. It uses the same bastardization that Halloween derives from. It doesn’t have the same poetic fluidity that overmorrow does, which is one of my favorite words. The word evokes the name of a strange pharmaceutical, probably one invented to combat the effects of constipation. Judging by many of the faces I see, it’s likely that a lot of y’all need it.

Yestereve, of course, means last night. Yesternight is another synonym.

I was in the pool by 4 a.m. When I climbed out of the pool into the chilly air, I briefly turned on the strings of Edison lights to watch them sparkle. It wasn’t quite as beautiful as the lightning storm I witnessed yesterday. But with the moon peeking through the branches of the huge tree overhanging the fence, the odd mixture of clouds passing overhead, and the subtle birdsong melodiously echoing, it was beautiful in its own way.

It reminded me of the joke about the chicken crossing the road. To which the answer is: why does everyone question the chicken’s motives.

X

Stolen Saturday Moment

I’m in Springdale at a beautiful Airbnb. Erika found it, of course. It’s a large beautiful house on Tara Street. My favorite part are the hidden Narnia rooms upstairs. I’ve been walking the streets since 3:30. The sky is flashing and rolling with lightning. Though no rain had reached me yet, the crackling of thunder occasionally surprises me. It’s gorgeous out on the wide expanse of Don Tyson parkway with almost no traffic. It’s as if all of it coalesced just for my private enjoyment. It’s definitely a stolen moment, one impossible to plan. The rain started at 4: 43. I made it back to the house a few minutes later. One of the best people at work, Carlos, brought delicious dark coffee back from his trip to El Salvador. It’s brewing now. If you’re a coffee lover, I probably don’t need to describe how delicious it smells as it’s burning. As is the case with these moments, I wish time would stand still for a few hours.
Love, X

A Little Revenge

Several years ago, when I worked at Cargill, one of the guys that worked In my department took pleasure in telling one of his favorite stories. His brother’s application for continued residency was denied. His brother had bought a decent vehicle from one of the pay-as-you-go car lots. After his brother returned to Mexico, my coworker continued to go in and make the payments. After making the payments for several months, he went in to pay the car off. The car lot suddenly decided that because the car wasn’t in his name, he could no longer have it. It’s not that they were wrong legally. You get the idea. My coworker was angry, but didn’t argue. He jumped in the car and drove it home.

That’s where he got creative.

A couple of days later, a truck pulled in with a very simple towing bracket to repossess the car. The tow truck driver was expecting an argument. He pulled up quickly and attached his tow truck to the front of the car. My coworker went outside and was very polite to the driver and said he understood that he was just doing his job. He told the driver that something had gone wrong with the car and that a mechanic had been working on it. Further, he told him he should check it to be sure it was safe to tow. The driver still acted like he didn’t trust him. He didn’t get out of his tow truck to do once-over on the vehicle.

The tow truck drove away quickly.

While my coworker did not get to witness the ensuing mess, he did get an angry call from the dealer who owned the car lot. At some point while towing the car, the tow truck driver realized that both of the rear wheels of the car had come off during transport. He did not however realize this until he was most of the way back to the car lot. Dragging the car directly on the pavement evidently did not increase the car’s value.

The dealer was belligerent and angry. My coworker told the dealer what he had told the tow truck driver. And he reminded him that he was not the owner and was not liable either way. The dealer threatened to call the police. To which my coworker replied, “Make sure and include the part where your tow truck driver failed to check the car for safe transport before he drove it.”

He listened as the dealer cursed at him and used racist language.

A couple of months later, my coworker went to the lot with a friend. His friend had thousands of dollars of cash to buy a car. They negotiated the sale and right before closing, my coworker said, “We’re not actually going to buy the car. We just wanted to make sure you understood how much business you lost for what you did to me and my brother. Make sure and tell (owner’s name here) that I said hello.”

They both got another racist cursing. But they left laughing.