So I’m sitting in my hotel room in Anaheim, California not two blocks from Disneyland and I have nothing to do. Now some people might take a stroll over to the famous amusement park and take in the sights, jump on a few rides and buy a set of Mickey Mouse ears. Not me.
Call me boring but the idea of visiting a place that has loads of couples and families reveling in the Magic Kingdom is unattractive to say the least. As I write this I’m not lonely. I have a book and my laptop to keep me company in my non-smoking, king bed cocoon. Yet, if I were to venture out to be among all these people, loneliness would set in like the thick fog that settles into the smoker’s lounge at the airport. Not having someone to turn to and say, “Isn’t that Dumbo over there” is depressing you know?
This is the nature of business travel really. My work here is done. All I have left to do now is fly back to Nashville tomorrow morning. People that don’t travel for business often think the road warrior’s life is glamorous. To be honest, when you first start traveling it is exciting. You feel as though you are doing important work; so important that the company is sending YOU to the meeting in Boston. It’s YOU that is flying off to San Francisco, through two or three time zones, to meet with the prospect that can change everything. Certainly cities like Boston and San Francisco come to mind when non-travelers fantasize about hitting the road. It never occurs to them that, more often than not, people are headed to places like Springfield, MO and Waterloo, IA.
And it’s not until you’ve done it for a while that you notice the looks on the faces of other business travelers. They look weary. They look bored. Some of them look angry. When you’ve run your laptop and shoes through airport security checkpoints enough times, eaten a fishy tasting piece of chicken in yet another chain restaurant, and slept in a strange bed for enough nights that it adds up to years of your life, glamorous is not the word that comes to mind.
Yes, business travel has its perks. There are travel related points that you can use to pay for vacations. (If your vacation requires air travel, your companion may have to resort to gunplay to get you to board.) You meet many fine people you would otherwise never know. I’ve made friends that have made my life immeasurably better. Of course, business travelers also meet people they could live two lifetimes without meeting and be eternally grateful. Then there are a few people who make it clear that you fall into that category for them.
Another travel perk is you might get to sit near a famous person on a flight. I’ve sat behind Fred Thompson, (bored) across the aisle from Bob Dole, (weary) and within shouting distance of one of the Mandrell sisters who definitely looked angry. None of them said or did anything I could blog about though.
You do get to see landmarks and other points of interest. Mostly you see them from your rental car, often limited to a fleeting, accidental glimpse because you are lost. Having no chance to make it to the all important meeting on time, you aren’t actually happy to see the Washington Monument when it comes down to it. Speaking of Washington, years ago I attended a seminar there that was worse than a sleepless night in hot, muggy weather. A colleague and I decided to skip an afternoon session to see the White House and the Smithsonian. It was delightful but another employee thought it was a good idea to tell my boss about it. That’s something non-travelers probably don’t consider when they are envying your expense account. Squeezing in a little time for sightseeing isn’t as easy as you might think. The boss was kind but only because my colleague had actually witnessed him shaking hands with Goofy on another trip. I’ll bet he wouldn’t have done it had he been there alone.
I wouldn’t want to discourage anyone form taking a job that requires travel. The pay tends to be good and here’s the best part. No matter what you tell people about the trials and tribulations of business travel, they won’t believe you. They’ll think you have it made.
Copyright 2009 len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Ever Work in a Factory?
Have you ever worked in a factory? It’s been many years for me but I remember well the summer jobs I had while in school. They were punishing enough to make me long for fall semester, classes and even homework. I have no idea of what factory work is like in 2009, but in the sixties it was like this:
• The work was repetitive and boring
• There were long stretches of sitting or standing in one place
• Breaks were few and far between
• Wages varied from minimum wage to a living wage but no amount of overtime could make you rich
• Nobody thought a thing about workplace ergonomics or workplace environment
As I saw it, men held the great majority of factory jobs back then. No doubt, factory floors had plenty of women, just not in the industries where I found jobs. With apologies to the women that worked their fingers to the bone under bad lighting, I’ll speak of the men I watched and worked with, knowing that for women it must have been infinitely harder.
There wasn’t much to keep laborers going in plants like these. There was nothing attractive about the surroundings or the smells. Foremen stood watch to be sure workers kept working. Not much to look forward to but a lot to fear like layoffs, accidents and debilitating illnesses. How did they do it? These men lived on dreams. For many the dreams were about quitting time, about Fridays and making it to payday so they could pay the rent and buy groceries. And on a good week there might be a little left over for a beer at the corner tavern on the way home.
Some men stood over their lathes, knees hurting, and shoulders aching; dreaming only about boilermakers, the kind one drank after all those very noisy hours staring at a machine. For them, bliss was the shot that took the edge off, allowing them to forget the bone crushing, spirit smashing work they had to do every day. The tavern was a second home for some of them. Some let their wives worry about raising their kids. And, one way or another, they paid for their sins.
Men working a drill press, packing parts and pieces for shipment, loading those packets onto long hot…cold trailers bound for places they would never see, were dreamers too. They silently counted the long days until they would have a week off. Spare change placed in a can, their wives scrounging for a few extra pennies, sons and daughters collecting pop bottles for the deposit money, just so they could spend a week, a glorious week, at the beach. Never in the big cottage of course, but thanks to a little overtime, maybe a night or two on the boardwalk, Philly cheese steaks and snow cones all around. Later they watched the kids thrill to the Tilt-a-Whirl ride, wondering as they sweetly held hands, whatever happened to their childhood.
Some of the men; forklift drivers, men that put tires on new Buicks or riveted their way from skyscraper to skyscraper, dreamed bigger dreams. Johnny Junior would get an education. He would not go to work every day wearing a workman’s uniform with his name on it. He would not have to lather his hands with sand soap when the work day ended. Little Linda Sue would be a nurse or a teacher and live with her husband in a fine A-frame home that they owned. What really drove those men to work day after day were their families. Home was a sanctuary. It made their labor possible and gave it meaning.
Most of us work in service industries today. There are difficult challenges to be sure but most of us come home clean, our lungs clear. I have never met anyone that experienced both a drill press and data processing that would choose the former, given a choice.
Factory workers then and now have done their jobs. America grew and became greater than ever thanks to the strong backs, the iron wills and the dreams of these men. Labor Day is a great day for a barbecue, a swim in the community pool and yes, a day off from work. But we wouldn’t be where we are today without the men that answered the whistles call and punched the time clock. Just before you take your first bite of a hot dog, before you dive into the deep end, remember someone in your family who was willing, as JFK said, “To bear any burden,” Then whisper these words: Thank you.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
• The work was repetitive and boring
• There were long stretches of sitting or standing in one place
• Breaks were few and far between
• Wages varied from minimum wage to a living wage but no amount of overtime could make you rich
• Nobody thought a thing about workplace ergonomics or workplace environment
As I saw it, men held the great majority of factory jobs back then. No doubt, factory floors had plenty of women, just not in the industries where I found jobs. With apologies to the women that worked their fingers to the bone under bad lighting, I’ll speak of the men I watched and worked with, knowing that for women it must have been infinitely harder.
There wasn’t much to keep laborers going in plants like these. There was nothing attractive about the surroundings or the smells. Foremen stood watch to be sure workers kept working. Not much to look forward to but a lot to fear like layoffs, accidents and debilitating illnesses. How did they do it? These men lived on dreams. For many the dreams were about quitting time, about Fridays and making it to payday so they could pay the rent and buy groceries. And on a good week there might be a little left over for a beer at the corner tavern on the way home.
Some men stood over their lathes, knees hurting, and shoulders aching; dreaming only about boilermakers, the kind one drank after all those very noisy hours staring at a machine. For them, bliss was the shot that took the edge off, allowing them to forget the bone crushing, spirit smashing work they had to do every day. The tavern was a second home for some of them. Some let their wives worry about raising their kids. And, one way or another, they paid for their sins.
Men working a drill press, packing parts and pieces for shipment, loading those packets onto long hot…cold trailers bound for places they would never see, were dreamers too. They silently counted the long days until they would have a week off. Spare change placed in a can, their wives scrounging for a few extra pennies, sons and daughters collecting pop bottles for the deposit money, just so they could spend a week, a glorious week, at the beach. Never in the big cottage of course, but thanks to a little overtime, maybe a night or two on the boardwalk, Philly cheese steaks and snow cones all around. Later they watched the kids thrill to the Tilt-a-Whirl ride, wondering as they sweetly held hands, whatever happened to their childhood.
Some of the men; forklift drivers, men that put tires on new Buicks or riveted their way from skyscraper to skyscraper, dreamed bigger dreams. Johnny Junior would get an education. He would not go to work every day wearing a workman’s uniform with his name on it. He would not have to lather his hands with sand soap when the work day ended. Little Linda Sue would be a nurse or a teacher and live with her husband in a fine A-frame home that they owned. What really drove those men to work day after day were their families. Home was a sanctuary. It made their labor possible and gave it meaning.
Most of us work in service industries today. There are difficult challenges to be sure but most of us come home clean, our lungs clear. I have never met anyone that experienced both a drill press and data processing that would choose the former, given a choice.
Factory workers then and now have done their jobs. America grew and became greater than ever thanks to the strong backs, the iron wills and the dreams of these men. Labor Day is a great day for a barbecue, a swim in the community pool and yes, a day off from work. But we wouldn’t be where we are today without the men that answered the whistles call and punched the time clock. Just before you take your first bite of a hot dog, before you dive into the deep end, remember someone in your family who was willing, as JFK said, “To bear any burden,” Then whisper these words: Thank you.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
