As stated in a previous blog entry (see Changes Are Coming), I had been planning to leave my job at the pawn shop in the hopes of becoming employed at an ice-cream factory for a change of pace and higher wages over the summer. Done and done. I submitted an online application to this ice-cream factory several weeks ago and received a reply that I was REQUIRED (yes, it was in bold and caps lock in the e-mail they sent me) to attend what they called a Career Fair.
When I think of a Career Fair, I think of those things colleges set up to help students get internships or summer jobs which will provide useful experience to aid them in advancing in their future professional fields. This Career Fair, however, was nothing more than a hiring blitz this company regularly conducts throughout the summer to find much needed temporary help. Hundreds of people show up, fill out applications, are interviewed, and are hired on the spot. Thus, the stipulation for me to attend this meant that they wanted to mix me in amongst the droves of people they planned to interview and hire. But it doesn't matter that the label of Career Fair was just a shameless attempt to inject pride and legitimacy into what they were doing because I knew what I was getting myself into and I was doing it strictly for the money. I'm like a prostitute like that. It's okay.
So, the Career Fair was situated in a community center and I got there right before the masses really started filing in. There were several steps throughout the hiring process, but while I waited for this process to begin, I was seated in an area where there was a TV showing a video of various production lines, and it looked miserable. People moving boxes off conveyor belts or mechanically filling boxes with frozen treats. That was it. No cheesy smiles or thumbs up. To be honest, I think the video was meant to scare away the people who didn't realize that production is not terribly unlike the eternal torture poor Sisyphus (the guy who pushes the boulder up the hill in Hell for eternity) must endure. Luckily, I was given a tip.
There are a couple summer positions open, but my brother-in-law (who currently works for this company) told me to ask about a job in sanitation. Someone in production either fills product into machines, makes sure the machines are making the treats properly, fills boxes, or moves boxes from location A to location B. Someone in sanitation, on the other hand, moves around the entire plant and takes apart, cleans, and reassembles machines. Apparently, this is better because it provides you with more mobility throughout the day and is not quite as painfully monotonous as being on a production line.
The Career Fair was composed of several steps: preliminary interview, comprehension testing, final interview, paperwork, all of which were interspersed with healthy doses of waiting. For me at least, the Fair went smoothly. The man who conducted my final interview ended up knowing my brother-in-law and thought very highly of him. Hooray for in-laws!
One thing I found disconcerting was how miserable and exhausted the man conducting my interview looked. He didn't attempt to reassure me that the job wasn't going to be horrible. All he seemed able to do was look at me with this pitiful deadness in his eyes. It was obvious that he hated his job. This was not a good sign, but I only have to put up with this for two months. I can do this.
In the end, I was offered a position in sanitation (pending I successfully pass a drug test and physical) at 11/hour and 60+ hours a week. Money, money, money! I know that the man who interviewed me looked like he wanted to kill himself, but I respect him for his scruples. He could have lied about how interesting and rewarding the job was, but he didn't. Besides, my current naivety convinces mto to think that my new job won't be that horrible. I will get to dissemble all kinds of machines, which sounds pretty cool to me. Plus, I get paid pretty well and get free ice-cream while on the job. That's really all I need. I would sell my soul for free ice-cream, and, in a way, I am.
Today, I went to the drug test and physical. The drug test should be self-explanatory, but the physical was a bit more interesting. I had to prove that I could lift and move around various things of various weights. I also had to squat and hold my wrists in strange positions. I squatted and walked across a room on my heels. I told them what colors I saw on a wall. I squeezed and pinched devices that measured how much pressure I put on them. I even flapped my arms a little bit. It was kind of silly, but the worst part was how impersonal the woman doing my physical was. She didn't feign a smile or indulge in chit-chat whatsoever. I have concluded that this woman also hates her job. And to add to the list, my brother-in-law has told me that he wishes he could quit everyday. I recently met a friend/co-worker if his who also told me the same. Everyone--literally everyone--that I know who works for this company has either told me or given off obvious signs that they hate their jobs. This should be interesting.
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