Eight to Five.

One day I woke up before the crack of dawn. It was not long until my eyes had met with the golden sunrise as I watched it light up the sky over the south Pacific ocean. I stood on the tiny wet droplets that were clung to the blades of the thin grass as I drank my cup filled with black java, and weighted half a cigarette, on the other hand, balancing the yellow bud in between my fingers. The memory of a pleasant dream had slowly faded. A disturbing feeling had crept up my spine. It was a daunting fondness of depression; another day in a meaningless, dead-end warehouse job.

Driving within the speed limit, the thick black tires of the dirty silver Nissan Pulsar moved forward and pushed against the wind as they rolled on the steep bending narrow road, avoiding the potholes as the two lanes merged into one. The motion of the traffic suddenly changed and the cars were lined up, bumper to bumper. Nothing was flat and straight on the roads around the national park as the cars turned left and right. Dead Kangaroos were shafted to the edge of the road and the furry tailed Possums were squashed into pancakes from the night before. A white Cockatoo laid in the center of the road. The feathers departed from his body as the cars rolled over the corpse. It saddens me and made my heart bleed. Life gone too quick for the creatures. I flicked from station to station, searching for the sound of a guitar. Radio personalities never stop feeding my ears with the unpleasant news: we're all going to die eventually. Pushed the button and drove in silence. My mind wanders off to figure out how I ended up worthless. My thoughts were deep and lost in my career choices. People compromise in their life when what they saw for themselves feels out of reach. A difficult time of acceptance arrives with a pang of guilt; To earn a real living to survive and make it through another day. To follow a dream is only a dream, very few people with talent in this world can turn a dream into a reality; that is life.

The warehouse felt cold as I opened the door and entered into the windowless building. I am always the first one to arrive and set up the day; scanned the employee card onto the timer, turn on the lights, set up the computers, and log into the programs. Unplug the Forklifts from the charger, open the roller door to drive the monstrous truck without a permit as I parked the beast along the side street. I amble back into the warehouse kitchen to boil the kettle for another cup of coffee and fire up a sneaky cigarette in peace and harmony of the empty building before the familiar face shows up to perform their mind-numbing roles. The owner of the company is habitually the last person to arrive at the plant. He never shows any appreciation for the hard-working team with a simple "Good morning" or not to be bothered to even say "Hello". The body language clearly indicated that he felt somewhat better than his staff, but in reality, he was a miserable person, especially after the divorce from his wife who had left him for another woman; the rumors of the company had delivered faster than a parcel shipped from one location to another. The mentality of the employees was to do their part and go home at five in the evening and collect a paycheck at the end of the month.

A new kid started his first shift and the manager pressured me to train him for the day. It did not bother me to take up the responsibility as it was exciting to bring in new faces to the team. I gave him a history lesson about the company as I introduced him to some of the staff members on the floor. I took him to our mandated safety meeting area, partially leading him as he veered off almost into oncoming forklifts, explaining to him that the yellow painted walkways are there for pedestrians, and brought him up to speed on all the usual safety policy guidelines. I explained how the company layout was divided into separate sections as they import a variety of different products from China; clothes, toys, books, electronic gadgets, kitchen tools, household items, perfumes, and other products that they sell throughout the year. During the exchange, I had learned that the skinny brown-eyed kid had been employed in a retail store that sold shoes after he had finished high school. He was overwhelmed with fear about the different sections in the steel building. I saw water in his eyes as it was too much for him to follow the simple layout of the floor."Don't worry kid. It seems too much to take in for one day but after a week or two, you'll find that it is really quite simple to follow. It is only your first day" I said to him with consideration. "We'll work together today, and most likely throughout the week, so don't stress over nothin. I need a cigarette and let's take a break. Help yourself for some coffee and biscuits in the staff kitchen. Meet me in section B in ten-minutes". He already had forgotten where section B was located and I pointed to the area before I walked out the door with a bud in my mouth. I had a feeling that the kid wouldn't last long or put himself in danger.

There was a continuous blaring sound from the forklift, echoing as the high pitch sound had bounced from wall to wall before it stopped."Get out of the way! Stay within the yellow line mate! Jesus! You trying to get killed bro?!" I heard Jordan yell angrily at the kid, who was standing in the middle of the path with a phone in his left hand, holding it up in the mid-air, clearly, he was taking a selfie. "For chrissake, put your phone away and move outta da way" The kid ran nervously back over to the pedestrian pathway. I rubbed my forehead with embarrassment as I had spent time explaining to the freshman about staying within the yellow lines as forklifts move frequently all day long. If he needed to cross over into different sections, he had permission to do so when it is safe and clear. Jordan was a big Maori from New Zealand. He loves Rugby, hip hop, tattoos, and having a good time with his boys, just like most Kiwi's. He is actually a very friendly guy, but when he is pissed about something or someone, he has no fear to let the world know about it. I walked up to the newbie and gave him a hard look and said "No phones! Absolutely no phones during work time" I said aggressively. He had apologized and I warned him not to do it again. We walked together to section B to collect the orders as they were ready to be picked, packed, and shipped by the end of the day. I intentionally choose the simplest orders for him and we set out to begin his new daily routine.

A fifteen-minute task turns into forty-five minutes. The kid couldn't follow the order of the bay locations nor pick the correct products from the shelves. My frustration had ground my patience thin. No matter how simple I explained how to locate the correct product and double-check the product code, he was a lost fool. He had hesitated and asked me an irrelevant question,

"But why does it have the number seventeen on the railing above?" I bent my head down and closed my eyes. My right-hand covered my face as the thumb and middle finger squeezed both sides of my face with tension. I looked back up at him and changed my tone in a direct way for him to understand that he had irritated me.

"Alright, I will explain this to you for the very last time. These are bin locations. These are bin location W05a, W05b, and W05c" I tapped the three shelves"The next bin location is W06a, W06b, and W06c. Anything ABOVE, that is on a PALLET, is known as BULK location. You do NOT need to worry about Bulk locations, NEVER." I paused for a split second and took a deep breath.

"The beams above the bin locations are known as bulk. This is bulk U17, the next one up is bulk U29 and the last pallet is U41. You only NEED to pick the items from the Bin locations. Understand? Bulk is the forklift drivers job." He looked up and down. "But we picked something from number seventeen just a minute ago, therefore, I don't understand why there is number seventeen on the railing" I gave myself a facepalm with a hard slap. It took a few seconds to hold my temper and not let the fire out."That was V17b. Bin location." I said to him flatly."Listen, these orders have to be completed by the end of the day. There is a pile of boxes that needs to be cut up and thrown into the recycling bin. I think you can handle that while I complete these orders." Naomi was nearby and I was in love with her but all my imageable love affairs were forgotten when I asked her in her native Brazilian tongue to take him to the recycling station, "Tire-o de mim e corte caixas" as I wanted the kid to be as far away from me as possible.

I arrived home with a pounding headache. I walked right up to the fridge and grabbed a beer, cracked it open, and poured a good mouthful. I stepped out to the lawn and lit a cigarette as I watched the sun sink beneath the ocean. It took its time to disappear and it was satisfying. There was a disturbing feeling that had crept up my spine. It was a daunting fondness of depression; knowing there was another day in a meaningless, dead-end warehouse job and I would have to do this all over again. This was my eight to five, five days a week...