Tis the Season: Blowing the Whistle on the Big Blue Box
And Now I'll Tell You Why
Thirteen years, I tortured myself. I was a very young man when the pain started.
When I was the great young age of twenty, I was desperate for a job. It was "tis the season" then too. My girlfriend and I just moved into our first apartment together. We had only recently found out she was pregnant with our first child. It was the year 2000.
I didn't have very many options. The city where I lived is small. My education levels, minimum. My wage expectations, minimum. Stress levels at maximum, I took on a temporary position at the big blue box as a trailer unloader to help with the seasonal rush. For many of us, life keeps chugging along, forward. We simply can't stop, achieve a higher education, start the lucrative position and earn the pay we think we all deserve. The magnet holding the electricity bill snugly against the fridge will wear out long before one can achieve their desired quality of life.
Six dollars and ninety cents. That's what I was worth to them, every hour.
In the late 90's as a teen, I was already employed as a land surveyor's assistant, earning ten dollars per hour. This new value placed on my livelihood was a tough pill to swallow. Many of the other people working along side of me complained about wages, while the managers were out of sight. A seemingly negative group, a few ass kissers, but yet I enjoyed working with these people. I also saw opportunity. Nobody working around me was interested in trying to make this big blue box work for them. I saw many people in positions with higher pay, better shifts, less grunt work... and majority of these people had severe entitlement issues. I knew it would only be a matter of time. I knew I could be applying for their job at a moments notice.
The First Time I Saw It
I'm still unloading trucks, it has only been a few days on the job. I had seen it before, but nothing like this, not at this magnitude. Before this, we would drop something, it would break. Merchandise damaged, it comes with the territory. Nobody is angry, accidents happen, fill out the "slip" and send it to claims. Clean up, carry on, finish the trailer, the next one will be here in two hours.
This all settled in, a few days after the big event.
The morning came and went for all those who celebrate. They were finished throwing the beauty of their decorated generosity into the shredder that is Christmas morning. They were finished placing an entire month's worth of packaging into the plastic time capsules. They had already placed these capsules on the curbs for the historians to retrieve and analyze. The only thing left was to go back to the store and return unwanted items.
When you shop, how do you treat that blender on the shelf with the bruised box and tape bandage? Does it heal? Do you buy the dented can? Where are the pictures to go along with this article? Why is that significant?
It's Store Policy
Unless you shop at second chance style stores, you'll rarely see that ugly product. Flawless merchandise sells. So where do the vacuums go when they cannot afford to photoshop their selfies? Where does that tiny stick of deodorant go when it plummets to the floor and smashes it's face? When you ram your cart into that bag of dog food only to find yourself engulfed within a kibble tsunami, once the meat cereal wave subsides, where does it go?
The garbage, of course. Who will buy it?
I showed up for my first shift timed for after the greatest day. Half passed three in the afternoon. A normally well kept backroom is jammed to the tits with shopping carts. Each cart overflowing with the unwanted. I did not know, so I asked.
Why is all this stuff back here? What is this shit? ...we have work to do.
"Claims," I was told.
You see, before this day, all claims were processed long before I had ever arrived for my shift. I did not know what happened to that half full bottle of liquid laundry detergent once I filled out the slip and placed the damaged merchandise into the blue bin located next to the processing area. The same processing area I'd walk past each day on the way to my station. The normally tidy processing area with the happy woman who always smiled in frustration. I should have known something was up when I nearly tripped over a "Power Wheels" toy vehicle for small children and was nearly ripped apart by that smile turned upside-down by that day, while I was on my way.
The slip said: Defective, did not come with decals.
Pitch in, help your team.
So, what do I do?
Well, everything you see in these carts has been processed and is ready for the garbage, so have fun. Cut all the cords with these scissors, hack up all the clothes, put the cardboard aside for recycling. Destroy everything so nobody has a chance of jumping in our trash compactor and retrieving anything of value. Do not eat the food, do not sip the drinks, do not take anything. It is theft to take this garbage. You will lose your job. That child's bicycle, slash the tires, cut the cables, throw it in the compactor. That dvd, scratch it. Those magazines, rip them up. No you cannot take that box of crackers to the staff room for everyone. No we cannot donate that dog food to the shelter. All of this food with Christmas packaging, this will not sell, open it and spill it in the compactor. Recycle the cardboard.
A loose quote. So wasteful, take note.
Years go by, many big events, many more average days. I'm now on a new shift. A job I was denied six times before they finally realized.
Roughly ten years later. I had moved along the backroom quite nicely. Started out as a temporary trailer unloader, promoted to a full time unloader. Became an inventory specialist, better shift, small raise. Seventh time was the charm. Applied to be a shipper/receiver. Denied twice. Third time, I'm now working the morning shift, weekends off, small raise. Got pissed off, it happens. I moved to the night shift. Lost my previous raise, gained night shift premium wage. Burned out, demoted myself back to trailer unloader, then applied again for inventory specialist, got it, then applied for shift supervisor, got it, better raise.
I'm now experienced with every aspect of the backroom process, the daily cycle, it never stops. I know this place better than all of those who came and left. On a higher level of related logistics intelligence than many of the top dogs, who came, and left. Perfect timing to take my craft to all new levels. The store is being renovated. A full line of groceries is on the way.
Despite my many errors, I was given much of the related responsibilities involved with planning where all of these new products would be stored. Head office had their plans, we all had a loose outline of how things should be. I clashed with my inexperienced manager a few times, about a lot of things. While he was trying to get me fired for missing work, I was busy at work getting things done. My next promotion was his job, not long after. At least he knew how to sense a threat.
This company had rewarded my accomplishments, recognized my experience and loyalty, looked through the surface flaws and found themselves feeling confident in their decision. I was finally what I'd consider a rich man...
The waste was giving me a headache.
Now I'm calling the shots, signing my name all day, wearing my nice shirt. Living two lives. My true self can be found anywhere else but at work. For the most part, I was a nice guy. I would be as generous as I could with raises. I was offering jobs to people who most would prefer to overlook. Some worked, some didn't. My true self wanted to give people the same opportunities I was given. I didn't hesitate to promote a few people, I had to let a few people down, it's the nature of the game. Then the bell rang.
No, it wasn't recess. My shift wasn't over. This was my trucker friend, late with our load of produce. Meats, dairy products, fresh fruit and vegetables on one side. Frozen foods on the other. Enough to feed a city, of course. This was our daily delivery, one of many for that day.
There Seems to be a Problem
You were late today, did you have any problems on the way up? No, it's not a problem, glad you're here. I'll just stick a few thermometer probes into these pallets as I pull them off of the trailer. Could you just stand there, out of the way for me. Thank you. It seems warm in there today. Did you shut off the refrigeration? You heard it cut out an hour ago? I'm glad you stopped to check and came here as fast as you could. This thermometer is showing me a few problems. It's six degrees too warm.
Celsius, Rising
Following procedure. Many in the industry know this as basic food safety. Guidelines set by government. Corporations found in neglect of following certain rules stand a chance of being penalized monetarily. Someone like me had to ensure those standards are met or I could be found guilty of gross negligence. There's no room for dealing with things on a case by case basis and allowing room for rational thought process combined with the highly elusive common sense.
Hello my friends reading this on an empty stomach worldwide. I saw your pain. Daily. That day, an entire truckload of food went in the garbage. It was standard procedure for the company I no longer represent to distance themselves as far away from any potential financial loss incurred by situations like these. The food was hauled off of the trailer, found to be slightly too warm according to industry standards. It was then to sit there, while a claim was made to the trucking contractors. Of course in this situation, the trucking company was at fault. The food had to sit out, as is, while the trailer temperature and other details about it's condition were logged for future reference. No detail was overlooked. Photos were taken of the food. This all took time, the food warmed up further.
Had we simply hustled our asses and ignored procedure, that food could have been in the proper storing facilities and chilled back down. Maybe not sold, but at least saved. It took hours and a few people to throw it all in the garbage and destroy it once there was a long enough paper trail in place.
People go to the store, they pick up milk, they browse the movie section, they flip through pages of a magazine, they pay for their milk, they drive home, they stop at red lights. The milk, is fine.
Sit down, I'm not finished.
That was only one bell ringer. Still hungry? Every day in a grocery store, someone walks around at least twice per day, examining. Anything that doesn't look like it should be there gets thrown on a cart. An ugly apple next to all the other nice apples ready for the next photo shoot, pulled. A downed can of tuna, dented and done. If one egg breaks inside a carton of twelve eggs, eleven eggs go on the cart. A damaged external box holding a perfectly fine bag of foodstuffs within, carted. Only flawless sells. It must look like it does in the photo. The cart full of superficial nonsense is pushed along. Slowly. The slips are filled out, the door to the trash compactor opens. Goodbye lunch.
The expiry date. To prevent people from ever purchasing expired products, the examiners also check these dates. Meat products are always pulled early, long before the expiry date. They do not go on ice to be shipped to a future hungry stomach. They go in a bin, to rot. The bin is much larger than a coffin. The bin sits there all week, every day accumulating more and more. A large collection truck comes along. Where that meat goes, I do not know, but I do know it smells of death. A human is not eating that. It was fine before this standard practice.
All bread products are pulled from the shelves two days before the tag dictates it's best before date. They do not go to the freezer to be preserved. They all go into the garbage. I've personally thrown out more bread in my life than I've ever eaten. Standard practice.
I want to yell, who can I yell at?
Everyone involved is to blame. From the customer all the way up to the leader of the country. Nobody is left out. The customer does not want imperfections. The corporations don't want to get fined. The government doesn't want to look like it doesn't care for the health of it's populace. It's all superficial nonsense.
Buffoons sit around all day scratching their heads. They wonder how they will ever be able to keep up with the increasing demand for food. They sit around trying to figure out why so many starve. They do this over lobster dinners and Cuban cigars.
The commoner, your average person. They sit around wondering what's going on, they write long stories about how they will solve world hunger. They sit on their hands and talk about agriculture practices and healthy lifestyles while contributing to the problem on the daily.
I currently work for a certified organic farmer. Truthfully, the season has ended and I won't see work there until spring. There's a difference between growing a garden without the use of chemicals and a certified organic farm. Why is the food so expensive? The amount of fuel consumed to pull an ancient weeding implement along the field with a tractor the size of a starving village is astonishing. The smaller yield which leads to wasted land. Having to use certain plants which take time to grow, only to plow them into the ground to fertilize and enrich the soil. If you do not do these things, you kill the soil and nobody can eat from that land until you bring in chemical alternatives. Of course I don't agree with toxic food, but do you truly know what you're eating when you buy certified organic? Next time you see a fuel truck drive by, don't forget to remind yourself the part about being what you eat. You are that truck, I am that truck. Superficial nonsense possibly led you to believe a hippy in a straw hat is out harvesting your organic wheat with a sickle.
What happens if the grain truck, fueled by the fuel truck gets denied at the train terminal due to a technicality based on standard practices? The extra effort and fuel to provide certified organic is then converted to livestock feed or garbage.
The world is overpopulated and starving, right? Get out your calculators. Divide the world population by the land area of Canada. You see that number? Is the world over populated, or is this just a case of mismanagement? Is the world starving, or are we throwing nearly one third of our food in the garbage while one third of the world starves? Pardon me if I don't have my numbers exact. Do the numbers matter? We've been playing the numbers game for how long? It's getting us... where, exactly? About six degrees warmer in the temper column.
Fine, I'll calm down.
I was only one person guilty of this reckless abandon, from one store, in one city. There are thousands of cities, thousands more stores, millions of contributors to this mess. If numbers are your thing, please multiply. I personally witnessed millions of dollars worth of merchandise get tossed away. I personally witnessed ton after ton of foodstuffs go in the trash.
Recently and quite by accident, I came across a story about a man from Ghana named Jibrill. Right here on Steemit, of course. I simply said hello from Canada. I was met with praise and caught a glimpse of the rumors they hear of in Africa about this great land known as Canada. So I told the truth. The truth that day has transformed into this entire set of words. If I understood the text correctly, Jibrill was incredibly shocked to learn about how one broken egg means twelve dead chickens, though I did not word it that way. For some reason, I thought they already knew.
For Only One Dollar a Day...
I wonder if Jibrill would also be shocked to learn how much we in the west generally know about Africa. If there is one thing we know, it's about the constant food crisis. The starving people, the sick children. We are not exposed to any sort of regular day in the life of the general African citizen media, unless we look for it. One hour of watching television on a Sunday might yield at least two commercials about a suffering child in Africa. The commercial is tragic and slowed down to the motion of the reality of this attempted portrayal. The tear slowly rolls down the child's face. The cameraman hits the home run, the interviewer gets her golden globe. They pack their shit up and head back to the hotel for brunch. I've seen this same script my entire life.
Everyone, young and old, they know. They know about the struggles in Africa, they can't deny it, not one person here can deny it. Not one!
Hello Africa. We know, and now you see what we do.
Jibrill sees potential in this food we call garbage. Jibrill's story tells you of his good intentions. He wants to change the world some day. He told me all about how second hand stuff is big business over there. I can understand why. I'm not in denial of a damn thing. That entire continent seems to get the shitty end of the stick on the regular. Our trash is their treasure, the unfortunate way of things. I do not know anyone here who would look me in the eye and tell me with full honesty that they do not care about these things. The truth simply hurts too much, they are too weak to face it. They dispose of their morals, much like their food.
Those in the power positions. They are too weak to face it. They can only sit on their hands, apply fake plastic smiles, do meet and greets and pretend to be strong. Would the CEO of the big blue box ever write this article? Cowards, all of them.
I Issue a Challenge
As you will soon see, my conversation with this man from Ghana quickly cornered me. I mentioned these things briefly, they came out of nowhere, I was just being honest. Then I felt hopeless. Then I felt like everyone else. I nearly moved on. I decided I'd sooner not let an entire continent down.
I am not a perfect person, I will never claim to be anything great. I like to joke around about it, but that's as far as I take it. I know I have demons of my own that I must defeat. I can't make any promises. I told Jibrill about the only thing I could do, that we could do, the only place to start is here, like this. Tell the people, create awareness. I nearly told him to google how food is wasted in the western world. I nearly said you'd find your answers there. I nearly walked away. Instead I put this on google. Seems easy enough, right? This was not easy. This was not meant to be easy.
My challenge is simple. This message must be heard. These big heavy hitters with their fancy clothes need to grow some big fancy balls. This message needs to be shared far and wide. It must end up on the desk of... "to whom it may concern." They then must contact Jibrill and start negotiating for he sees potential in this thing they call garbage. He doesn't seem angry with us, he seems excited and ready to take on the challenge. All salvageable food must be diverted to the hungry, not the trash. All those who are hungry must know about this atrocity. It must end, happily ever after.
World leaders, corporate leaders. How did you folks become so high and mighty? Did you take a short cut? Are you going to continue to sit on your hands now, while the entire world is glaring at you, waiting for you to make your first move? Are you really afraid of changing the world for the better? Will you prove to the world your weakness, or your strength?
My final question is this...
...and I think the answer is simple.
- I received an interesting question recently so I'd like to explain. "Why should they contact Jibrill?"
The answer is simple. I would question this waste. I thought there must be a better way. I was always told there was not a market for this food or merchandise going to waste. "Nobody would buy this and it's too expensive to ship it away for free." Standard business model, correct? I'm sure many are familiar with this excuse.
I do not know Jibrill. Jibrill was the first African currently living in Africa that I've ever had an online conversation with. I mentioned these problems to him, as you now know. He was instantly interested, and saw this "garbage" as valuable. The first African I ask said they would take it. The first one. How the hell did these people in charge get so high up the ladder and not be able to achieve this?
That excuse is now dead. I know Jibrill isn't the only one in Africa who would be interested either. It's bad enough these corporations, governments and the general public's superficial nonsense can't change and simply give this stuff a proper home. There's a market out there, and they won't even sell their garbage to them. This needs to change.
Great post, This always bothered me so much about grocery/shopping stores, yet it feels like there is nothing I can do about it. Very frustrating. Thank you for writing about it.
Upvoted and following ^_^
There is something we can do. I suggest people print this out and leave a few laying around the stores they frequent. Bring it to the managers attention, ask them how much progress they've made so far. They will give you a glazed over look. "Pro... Gress?" Have the definition of the word quickly available on your phone, just in case.
I truly thank you for your support. This practice needs to stop, and the answer is simple.
Ok, I will definitely consider that. Lots of things to prepare for before I got to steemfest though, so i am pretty busy atm :p
I completely agree, the waste of foods and Perfectly used items going in the dumpster is disgusting to see how much waste there is.
Thank you for promoting this @optimistic. I will match your contribution.
Article edited. Added answer to recent question.