December 23, 2019 - FormerInmate@T-554
Target Corporation Distribution Center: Gulag
The best way to describe a Target DC is a Gulag. It felt like an unjust punishment; like I had been wrongfully imprisoned. Upon entering the building, my only thoughts were about prison riots. We were all armed with blades, jam poles, shepherds hooks, and a new device called a “measuring stick”, which resembled a wooden bow staff, and lots of heavy machinery…
Escape into the imagination of what it would be like to incite a riot is how I made it through my shift. If that sounds extreme, then chill out. Because it’s better than the guy from Packing, the new department I was assigned to after my injury in Outbound, who actually threatened to shoot up the workplace. He was fired and the DC was put on lockdown. Apparently Target never even contacted the police although the guy is said to have access to high powered firearms.
Packing reminded me of experimental rats. We perform a function, and we either get a pellet or zapped. Except there were never any pellets. We scan a label and a button lights up beneath a box labeled with a store number. We use lingo like “puts” and “eaches”, and we put each item into a box and press the button and look for the next light. Over and over again. Scan times are the only thing that matters. I will never get back the time in my life that I spent considering the popularity and validity of adult diapers.
We clapped our hands every “Recognition Monday” for the highest producer, usually it was the one who showed me how to sacrifice safety and quality to make numbers. If we use a flattened cardboard box, it is easier to climb on top the conveyor belt. Bravo! Just chuck extra product into random boxes or discard it in the massive bailer. Nobody will know.
Store people, I’m sorry. From an outbound perspective, I resisted their shitty ways. But you must know the awful boxes I’m talking about.