Sorting and Getting Sorted

Anyone who was to walk into my workplace lately might think that we are actually a living, functioning factory. There is fabrication going on, a little production, some painting. Parts and things to make parts out of still come in the receiving door and finished goods still go out the shipping door. There is frenetic activity and piles of stuff everywhere. There is also overtime a-plenty, at least for my group (shipping and receiving). But the factory is in its last weeks of existence. All of the activity is geared toward finishing the final orders and packing things up. Most of the shipping going on isn't finished goods, but parts from the stockroom and machines from the floor being sent to their new homes, or to the scrap yard. One day there will be a brand new open space on the floor, and the next it will be filled with a collection of items being assembled for the final auction of things no one else wanted (scheduled for December). A kind of factory OCD seems to have gripped the maintenance guys who put this stuff here. Groups of like-items stand in rows - shelving units, carts, plastic skids, bubble wrap dispensers, chairs, wastebaskets, wire-carrying-rack-things that I don't know the real name of. There is still a production meeting every morning, though I don't really know why. I don't fill parts bins anymore because all of the areas that I supplied are shut down now, and gone. The most memorable one was last week. In the morning I filled their bins, and they worked the line until lunch. By the end of the afternoon, the floor was clear - every table and piece of equipment was in shipping waiting to be crated. And the next day everything was gone. My main job now is to empty the stockroom of "scrap", which is everything that doesn't belong to a line that is moving. It has to be sorted into precious metal (things like copper, brass, and aluminum), regular metal (going to a local scrap metal dealer), and everything else (being bought by a company that pays some kind of salvage price for it all). As I dump each tray of finished metal parts into the scrap bin I have to try not to think too much about it. I see parts that I used to use to build things, and things that I have moved around the plant during their production stages, and I can't help but remember how much time and effort they paid for to create this item that I am now just throwing away. Sometimes I see something that triggers a memory of a job I had here years ago that I hadn't thought of in a long time, hardly even remember doing at all. And it just makes me sad to think, once again, that it's all about to be gone forever. I've been taking surreptitious pictures when I can, both of things that have changed (empty rooms, the OCD areas) and things that I want to remember. My favorite row of the stockroom shelving - dark, quiet(er), soothing to drive down. What it looks like to sit in the shipping dock door early in the morning, enjoying the breeze and the quiet. The train tracks that come right into the receiving area, from some long-ago time when this place had its own railroad siding, when so much came in to be processed that they needed to bring it in by the train carload. I wasn't here during the peak of employment and work, but it must have been a very different place than I know. It's back to being horribly hot, and even when they have the a/c on I am constantly sweaty. And every day this week I have been dirty by fifteen minutes into my day. There have only been rare occasions when I have truly gotten dirty at work here, even though it's a factory. Now, though, I'm constantly surrounded by dust falling off of parts that haven't been touched in years. And in case you hadn't figured it out yet, sweat plus dust equals mud. More than once I have seen myself in the restroom mirror with a smear of mud across my cheek where I have wiped sweat from my face with the back of my glove. I have sneezed more in the last week than I have in the last year, probably (no, I don't actually keep track). And I haven't had time to swim much, so I'm just thiiiiiiis close to homicidal by the end of my 10-hour days. Yesterday I was handed my packet of retirement papers, only eight days after they were requested (that might be an efficiency record for our "HR" person). I haven't yet really looked at them, but I'll have them signed and returned on Monday. There aren't a lot of actual decisions to be made if you're single, except for assigning beneficiaries for various things. I just have to sign up for everything, then wait for November 1 to see if I actually get my first check on time. We'll see.

Feeling Cheated

This morning on the radio they were interviewing a local semi-celebrity who is retiring this week after 23 years or something at his job. It got me thinking about retirement today, and kind of feeling sorry for myself.

Usually, when people retire it's because they planned it. They know they have the money to do it, they have other plans, it's time. And it's a joyous, though scary, occasion. I know there are a fair number of people who find that it isn't really what they thought it would be, or what they wanted, once they have made the leap (that's the scary part). And some find they really DON'T have the money to do it (even scarier). At the time, though, there are lot of congratulations passed around, and people are envious of the retiree's coming freedom from working. It's a different deal at my work now.

In past years, like when my mom retired, there was a "party" at break time, where the honoree's family was invited, and there were little gifts, collections taken up, a cake and a plaque, a guestbook that everyone signed, pictures taken. I'll never have that. My retirement, while just as final and scary, is missing the joy and the envy. We are all leaving, whether it's for retirement or the unemployment line. Is it petty of me to feel cheated by not getting to be congratulated, not getting even the stupid little party that they had before? I never meant to retire at 54, maybe not even at 55. In some ways I feel like I don't deserve to not have to work, you know? But I would have liked a chance to look forward to that day instead of being sad. But hey, I hear that we still get our cakes.

Stress Relief

Some time back (April, actually) I rejoined Gold's Gym with the intention of swimming again. Through the plant-closing process and its associated stresses, swimming has come to be my main stress reliever. It also makes my knees feel better, and I sleep better, though I have yet to lose any discernible weight. I tell myself that I weigh the same because I have gained muscle weight and lost fat, but it's not true. It's still fat. (OK, I actually use swimming as a way of allowing myself to still eat the bad stuff.) But I can go a lot longer and faster without gasping for breath like I did at first. And my swimming has been officially endorsed by both my orthopedic surgeon (who is a swimmer) and my gynecologist (not because "that" has anything to do with swimming, but because he is a swimmer, too).

Once the plant closing is over I plan to do what I do in Florida. When I'm there, the first thing I do every day is put on my swimsuit and go to the beach. I swim, or whatever, for as long as I want, then I go home, clean up, and go on with my day. I plan to do the same with going to the gym here - get up, swim, shower, then go on with the day. For now, though, I have to squeeze swimming in between work and whatever else is going on in the evening, which means that many days I don't get there at all. And when I do get there, I might have limited time, so I can't get much distance in.

I last swam on Sunday morning, which is my favorite time. The pool is usually empty and quiet, and there is sun coming in the window... it's very soothing and peaceful. Monday I couldn't go. Today at work I just knew that I HAD to get to the pool tonight, no matter what. Work has been incredibly stressful this week (as of today, we have 41 working days left). The final push is coming, and in my group, we have been promised lots of overtime as we pull the remaining stock out of the stockrooms and get it sorted to be scrapped or sent away. Particular people have been even bigger idiots than they usually are, and no one seems to know what anyone else is doing. Machines leave every day, strangers are all around pulling equipment and doing the environmental cleaning, and we are both busy and looking for something to do all the time. My knees have been horrible lately (since I've spent less time on the forklift and more on my feet). In short, I knew if I didn't swim today, there was a good chance that I might kill someone tomorrow. (It could still happen, but it's less likely now.)

I've discovered a pattern to my workouts. For the first few laps I just stretch, check in with all parts of my body to assess what hurts or what my limits are, and get settled in the water. Then at some unknown time, sometimes 10 laps in, sometimes 30 laps in, it feels like I could just go on swimming forever. At the risk of sounding like a total dork, I feel like I live in the water, like there is absolutely no effort in going from one end to the other. And at times, I even wish the pool was longer, when I really get a good rhythm going and I don't want to stop and turn. If there are other people around I completely tune them out at this point. They just don't exist. That's when I really love it - when it feels like the water is where I belong.

Since I got the Zoomer fins and the paddles, I have been able to mix up my workout a lot, which has been great. It makes it more fun, and I get a better workout from it. I can really feel the difference in the morning. When the amount of time I have decided on is up, I quit, check my number of laps (I never look until I'm done so I don't know how many I've done along the way), sit in the hot tub and stretch for several minutes, then get back in the pool to stretch further and to cool down. Tonight was really great, but I wish I had had an additional 30 minutes. No one will die at work tomorrow, at least not by my hand. Unless it's an accident - or I can make it look like one. :)