Toy Factory Notes 10 years Old
I work at a toy factory in NW Minnesota; I’ve done so for nearly 30 years. I drive a forklift now after various roles of my tenure. There’s not a day that I go to work that I anticipate enjoying my work; but many more, that had I planned well enough in advance, I’d rather be working full time at something I do enjoy, like writing and publishing to earn a living.
These days I hurtle backwards from one extreme end of the building to the other extreme end, hauling raw materials down uneven concrete aisles, sounding the horn repeatedly, slowing for pedestrians and busy intersections, and looking across my industrial terrain through the reflection of an rectangular convex mirror. I sit facing forward on a well-cushioned seat that helps keep my body relatively comfortable compared to the bone-jarring ride of forklifts of old.
Having worked at the facility for so long I experienced lift trucks that were first powered by propane. I saw the evolution to various battery-powered models that gradually improved operator comfort although too many seem designed by engineers and not the people who drive them for a living. Today the transmissions of the forklifts are hydrostatic, instead of having a gear shift and clutch, and the hydraulic mechanisms are activated by two joysticks on a pedestal instead of long unwieldy levers jutting from the dash or protruding from the floor. The adjustments of fork width is adjusted from the driver’s seat, while yesterday it was done manually every time you had to pick up material of varying dimension.
Many more forklift operators drive while turned in their seats, looking over their left or their right shoulder, their corresponding foot operating the pedals for forward, or brake. Their torsos and necks are twisted as they steer their machines through their work related areas. Over time, as I painfully learned, an operator’s neck and shoulders become very sore. It was for that reason I resorted to using my mirror as I drive so I can keep my torso and neck straight in the seat, as it was designed, and prevent neck and spinal discomfort and perhaps injury, over the long-term.
Looking through my mirror, I have a wider, more comfortable, angle of view. I used to drive a bulk milk truck when I lived in Iowa and I learned to back up long distances, using my door mirrors, snaking my way in reverse through a slalom course riddled with cars and pickups, grain wagons and combines regularly parked on the road to the milkhouse, despite our clock-work pick up schedules; to otherwise drive a forklift now seems totally unnatural.
My early evening shift existence aboard a forklift these days is a solitary drive through sometimes uncharted territory as the floor layout in this facility changes daily due to the new construction conducted on a 24/7 schedule. New obstructions, bottlenecks, and dead-ends affect aisles. Pedestrians are rerouted or choose their own paths across the facility to exit or enter the building so a driver always has to be aware of their location--even if pedestrians don’t have to be aware of forklifts.
Despite the resounding back-up alarms, the flashing strobe lights and loud horn, pedestrians become oblivious to forklift traffic pretty quickly, especially in this era of cellphones and texting. Although there are rules prohibiting cellphone use in the facility, except in designated break areas, pedestrians ignore all except what is in the palm of their hand and walk with their eyes on it instead of their safety. I think they quickly learn there are no consequences to ‘the rules’ and just continue doing what they want to do, much to a forklift driver’s disadvantage.
However, cellphone use is not a limiting factor when it comes to pedestrian safety awareness. Managers, vendors, group leads, supervisors, the company nurse, VP of Manufacturing, maintenance workers, and planners are among the most oblivious as they walk pedestrian aisles or stray into freight aisles. Rarely, one of the group may acknowledge an on-coming forklift and warn the others, either with a nudge or gesture to make sure the others are aware--it does happen occasionally; so a forklift driver should always swing wide of such a covey of personnel if possible, or stop motion altogether for, as do jackrabbits ahead of a car at night, any one of them may laugh at a joke or gesture animatedly and step backwards into your path, as experience has taught me.
Maintenance owns the building and thus owns the aisles. They will park anywhere they want, how they want, parking their little yellow tool cars at the scene of machine breakdown no matter what material is regularly transported down that aisle. Pedestrians, tugger and forklift traffic must alter their route to circumvent the blockage, then in turn create scenarios that affect one another.
Pedestrians walk into freight aisles, tuggers and forklifts avoid the aisle or get stalled taking turns around it. Maintenance personnel seldom use their horns at intersections and often cut corners, rounding them; inattentive drivers are usually talking to co-workers who stand behind them in the back of the cars. As with cellphone usage, there are no safety consequences. No one is paying attention--but forklift drivers must.
Like the earlier mention of my days as a bulk milk hauler, milk pickup from the farm--and parts delivery in this facility are regularly scheduled on a daily basis. At this manufacturing plant raw materials are transported throughout the facility to specific locations, on particular routes, over the course of three shifts--just like clockwork.
Yet, similar to the earlier example of farm obstacles on the road to the milkhouse, every shift is a new shift and the same problems resurface, day in, day out as aisles, shelves, work areas are in a constant state of flux and confusion; work stoppages is rampant. Tempers flare. Impatience rules the day. Nothing seems to improve. There are no consequences.
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Winston Churchill