Hitchhiking Memoir Part 2, globalization, callcenters and drywall

You are about to read part 2 of a many, many part autobiographical memoir. It involves the happenings leading up to a nearly 10,000 km (6000 mile) hitchhiking adventure... and the happenings of that hitchhiking adventure. If you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment. Upvotes and resteems are particularly welcome as I think this story would be enjoyed by many... but likely only 15 people know about it at this point... I will continue posting this story until it is all up... so stick with me if you enjoy it.

You can read part 1 here (and should read it before you read part 2):

https://steemit.com/life/@allcapsonezero/hitchhiking-memoir-part-1

Here is part 2... Enjoy!

In the job market today, there is no certainty that an employer is going to keep its workers, and there is no real loyalty workers hold for there employers. It seems like a truth that people accept... I must work for the man, but I won’t be loyal to the man. The days of serving a company for 25 years and getting a golden coffee mug as a token of appreciation are over (or so I hope and pray). This is not a conscious choice of the workers or the employers, this is just the way that the economy and market has evolved... constantly cutting corners and moving to new frontiers in search of larger gain. Behind closed doors in boardrooms, the masters of your time, and the holders of capital make decisions based solely and soullessly on the bottom line.

The bottom line has no concern for job security, the bottom line does not care if your daughter needs braces or your wife is terminally ill. The bottom line does not care if your dog needs a costly operation to live, the bottom line just does not care about you... not even a little bit. The bottom line sees you as a vital part to its success in getting larger and larger. If your shop decides to form a union or to demand better benefits, the bottom line could see a threat to its growth and pull the plug on your operation and find people that would be happy to work without benefits.

I worked in a call center which shall remain nameless to maintain consistency with the status of its face, heart and soul. The first time I entered what was known as “the floor” I was shocked. Since many people either have worked or know people who have worked in these call centers, this should not come as a surprise to them... but it was certainly a surprise to me. There is a large warehouse essentially, the size of a few football fields, with rows upon rows upon rows of cubicles. The call center that I worked at for nearly a year had the seating capacity for over 800 people, and then expanded. It was a buzzing hive of activity and efficiency. Supervisors were not entirely necessary due to the fact that one needed a magnetic strip to enter the premises, one needed to punch in a code to log into the phones, and the computer kept track of when you start, when and how long you take your breaks and when you leave. If you took too long of a break, the computer would inform the supervisor, and then the supervisor could do his or her job. In 11 months, I had 4 different supervisors due to the fact that people are constantly starting and quitting and a supervisor has a “team” that they take care of. For a guy who stayed there for 11 months when the average stay for an individual at one of these jobs must be less than 3 months, he would find himself losing all his team members until he gets acquired by another team.

This callcenter was a new and exciting enterprise which was based on the concept of outsourced labour. The callcenter was not affiliated with any company. Rather, it took on companies as clients. This way it was more easy to pay the workers less and provide less benefits. Indirectly, the workers worked for some of the largest names in business, but, were employed by a third party. All calls that came to my call center were originated in the United States. Most of these people were already conditioned to the facts of globalization, in which their nation is the leading force of this crazy train. I felt a lot like Ozzy Osbourne too when they made me work every other black sabbath. Many callers would call in and ask “Where are you situated?” I started out by saying Edmonton, but this was far to exact for most callers and also apparently a security risk for the call center (finally, those callcenter workers will pay for their crimes...BOOM), so I would simply answer Canada. Many callers were happy to speak with “someone who spoke English.” Many callcenters are in India and other nations where the hunters can make wages virtually non existent. This makes the bottom line very happy. It still is cheaper to hire a third party to outsource callcenter labour in Canada rather than have Americans answering the phones directly for the extremely profitable corporation. A small victory for the man, and the fact of the matter is that Canadians do have to work. The few hunters would rather have the majority of Canadians under their thumb in a sterile soul eating callcenter working for $11 an hour and for a major global corporate force rather than the many other alternatives such as working towards self sufficiency, community building, an finding alternatives to certain global phenomenon (namely the utter dependence on oil).

Whenever I take a step into an unknown area of the world, I am always shocked to be brought back so quickly into the insanity. There are so many people and so much ridiculousness and so many people who seem to take this ridiculousness as absolutely normal and see no problem. Whether it is a callcenter, or a construction site, the fact that I am shocked remains constant. It refreshes me, in a manner of speaking, and lets me know that much of the world is oblivious to much of the happenings as well as to certain innate rights. When I am unemployed and spending time with my friends, who seem to be relatively close to the same wavelength as me, I forget what the rest of the world is like... you could say, in a way, that it is very healthy for me to require to go out into the “real” world for stints of “grab all you can.”

One such stint in the world of making money landed me as a 5 tonne truck driver. My grandfather, who seems to be very much on the level encouraged me to get my class 3 drivers permit, which essentially, allows me to drive a truck with 3 axels. He would say, “I don’t think that truck driving is going to be your career, but this might make you a little more money in the meantime.” I took his advice because after my callcenter gig I had stagnated pretty good and had no idea how to get going again. I took a week long course and somehow got my license... this is a frightening fact because those trucks are very big and very dangerous and a week of instruction is not nearly enough to properly equip someone for the road. Nonetheless, I had my class 3 drivers permit and was now looking for a job to utilize this new skill. I put out resumes to every local outfit that required no experience and got a call the next day. Interestingly enough, all truck driving jobs that require no experience also require ridiculous amounts of manual labour. I was ready for a new challenge, so, I took the job driving a drywall truck and hauling drywall.

On my first day all of the people that worked there sized me up (for the record I am 6’1” and all of 140 pounds soaking wet) and decided that I would last for a day. I got on the road with a couple of other boys my age and drove off to the suburbs where a lot of new houses and renovations are taking place. I got to the site and said, “OK, now what?” The other guys started laughing and replied, “Start hauling.” There were hundreds of sheets of drywall from 8 foot to 12 foot. They were also very heavy, especially for a guy sitting in a cubicle for 11 months where you don’t even have to lift a receiver. I somehow managed to haul the drywall and make it past the 16 hour first day of work, which later I found out was a test to weed out people who did not want to work as hard as the company wanted. I made it to day 2 to the surprise of many people.

I got paired up with all sorts of guys at this job. Mostly roughnecks, many on parole. One guy told me a story that he was going to be going to jail, for quite a while, but asked the police officer if he could have a smoke first. When the cop let him go for a smoke... he ran. He alluded to certain newspaper headlines which I do remember and told me that he is that guy. I found this rather humorous, as he seemed like a good enough guy and all... he just had to live looking over his shoulder without much of an identity.

Identities seem to only serve the purpose of allowing certain powers to keep track of you. As long as you are good, you have nothing to worry about... except maybe the fact that someone is keeping track of this. Once you cross that line, like my friend who hauled drywall... the story changes. The workers at this outfit were all hard and rough and seemed to have no problems working without breaks and for as long as required of them. I managed to follow suit but would sneak off for a sandwich whenever opportunity knocked.

I was lucky enough to have my friend lend me her car for the summer while I was working at this outfit, otherwise it would not have been possible. I was quickly paired up with Jay, who had his license taken away due to an impaired driving charge, which he had no problem admitting his own guilt to (and stupidity for that matter). Jay asked if I could be his carpool for work and I accepted his offer, which included a bit of cash. I worked with Jay for a while who was perpetually going to quit smoking “after this f__king pack.” That f__king pack lasted as long as I worked with him.

I worked with Al for most of the summer. I was grateful to be teamed up with Al. Even though I seemed to have earned the respect of all of the roughnecks and did not have much heat to face (anymore) when I worked with them, Al was really easy going and just wanted to get the job done right. He was critical of my driving, as he also had a class 3 permit (which allowed us to switch off). My 1 week of drivers training was not enough, and driving with Al for the few months actually brought me up to speed in the truck. Much like me, Al didn’t really fit in with the crowd of drywall haulers... hotboxing the truck and hollering and anything with breasts being the everyday norm. We took coffee breaks and lunch breaks and talked about philosophy, religion, Buddha, Jesus, comic books and what constitutes a good man, if such a man exists. We both learned quite a bit from each other.

Al was a balding, early 30’s, overweight guy whom the rest of the workers insisted was gay. Al was not gay, but rather not as into women (which is a good thing believe me) as the rest of the workers... whom, if they could would never be out of women. Al was a somewhat devoted Buddhist and found his life rather challenging as he was alone and didn’t see that changing anytime soon. We would talk about karma and he would sadly ask why he still felt like it was not on his side despite living well for such a long time. I would always tell him the same thing. People that appear happy and abuse themselves constantly are not necessarily happy, but may actually be hiding from themselves completely and encouraged him to keep living within his beliefs. This always seemed to make him feel better and usually sparked some pretty good conversations too.