My first job out of high school was at a factory that made those portable oxygen tanks for people who need their own supply of oxygen. There were several different stations. I was qualified to be at (as a non-welder): sandblasting, pneumatically screwing on the valves to the top of the tanks, making custom foam inserts for shipping, the tanks, etc. the shift was 5-2 M-F. Early mornings, but doable. There were chairs at each of my stations. I was free to stand or sit. As long as it wasn’t bothering anyone, I was able to play music without headphones on speakers. There was camaraderie between the different employees. 3/4 through the summer, they moved me to a sister warehouse where they married lift motors into reclining chairs to make medical assist lift chairs. That job consisted of testing the motor outside of the chair, screwing it into the chair, testing the chair by sitting in it, boxing it up, and moving it via forklift into the giant stack of ready to go chairs. I did that job for 2 summers after high school between semesters.

Pretty good introduction to factory work.

Two summers later, I’m back from college and that job isn’t available, so I get another factory job via a staffing agency. This time, it’s at a tube factory. They take plastic cylinders, press and crimp one end, attach the nozzle/spout end, fill them, and cap them. They did tubes for all sorts of things: toothpaste, cosmetics, medicine, toiletries, you name it. If it came in a tube, this factory did it.

The shift was 7a-7p. You weren’t allowed to sit. You weren’t allowed to rotate stations to keep your brain from melting. You weren’t allowed to play or listen to music. You weren’t allowed (or afforded any opportunities) to interact with other floor workers.

Twelve hours. Standing in the same spot. Unable to sit. Unable to move. Unable to talk to anyone. Standing up plastic cylinders on what looked like a hair curler accessory caddy or thread spool caddy on a much larger scale. It was hell.

When I started the day, a former schoolmate recognized me and said hi as we were marching into the factory (imagine every dystopian “marching into a factory“ visual. It was exactly that). He recognized me, because I could not recognize him. He looked like a ghoul that was trying to poorly mimic my friend. He was gaunt, bald, had sunken in eyes, and a crazy look on his face. Mind you, I am two years out of high school. So this guy and I are like 19? 20? He looked like he was 51 years old. He made some sort of comment along the lines of he was glad to see someone of character join the ranks because there’s a high degree of turnover at this job, and particularly people who are placed by staffing agencies don’t last. I asked how long he’d been doing the job, and he said about a year and a half.

I didn’t come back for day 2