A Working Class Hero is Something to Be

So you may ask yourself, just what do I have against my job that's burning such a hole through me that I'm delighting in such malicious revenge. And you may ask yourself, what has Sue done to me that's caused me to behave in such a spiteful way. And you may further ask yourself, how many axes do I have to grind. Well, I'll tell you.

#1. The Seal Room, part 1. This goes back to the fall of 2001 when I was on second shift. There was so little screening to do that I'd been farmed out to another department over the summer. My friend Adam put in a word for me with his boss when a vacancy opened up in the Seal Room, and I was approached about possibly transferring in there. So I opted to do that. Dave, the boss, put in a good word for me and things went through. I started training in there with Adam and all was well.

Until Brian, the screening supervisor, made a case for how much I was needed back down there, enough so that I was dragged back out of the Seal Room kicking and screaming, and thrown back down in the screening area. Mind you, this was after submitting an official bid for that job, winning the bid, and working in there for almost a month. Then, when I got back to screening, there was so little to do that I ended up working in screenmaking most nights.

I was so bitter about that for months, and it was hard to even go into work.

#2. The Seal Room, part 2. Now I'm on first shift and it's the spring of 2003. Another vacancy is opening up in the Seal Room, and I'm approached by Dave again, and also The Other Brian, who is now supervisor for the entire production floor, about going in there. It's known that I'm not terribly happy in screening, and kind of burnt out, and I am the person they want for that spot. I am told, in no uncertain terms, that the job is mine if I want it. The job is *promised* to me, which helps me to break through my reluctance to bid on it, as the sting of the first time hasn't yet gone away.

I put my bid in for the job. Sue, acting much like she's acting now during the current circumstances, acts like a child and dumps on me, because HOW DARE I try to transfer out of her department to go do something else. The job is subsequently denied to me due to her whining to The Other Brian about how much she needs me down there screening and yadda yadda yadda. No Seal Room job for me, but they're very sorry about it.

Now I'm so bitter it's hard to wake up in the morning.

I have not bid on a single thing since then.

#3. Milking it. This is in May, just two months after the second Seal Room disappointment. Our department had just absorbed the foil screening process, which of course I was thrown onto after a whole two hours of training one afternoon on the previous foil screener's last day on the job. I was usually working alone, cutting foil, screening it, catching it and/or booking it up for the bake ovens--all the stuff I do easily today, but back then it was still a struggle while I tried to find my footing. It takes a little while to get really proficient at the foil.

So this Friday in question I'd busted my ass all day, struggling through the foil, doing my level best to get it all finished. I cut two larger jobs near the end of the day and ran my ass off to get those done. Sue was around near the end of the day and everything seemed cool.

Later that night I got a phone call. Apparently, Sue had gone in to see Tom Jr. in screenmaking and said something. Tom related it to Adam. Adam called me at home. What she'd said was this: "He spent all day milking that foil. I'm going to push him come Monday, and I'll show him." I know the first sentence is an exact quote; the second one I'm not so sure about now, but you get the idea.

I was *furious*. There was so much heat coming from my body that I could have spontaneously combusted right there. And the phone went dead for several seconds. Adam had to ask if I was still there, because I couldn't speak. I was literally vibrating with rage.

Of course, by the end of the weekend I'd turned it all inward and completely stressed myself out into a full blown anxiety attack. I think I even called in on that Monday because I just couldn't handle the stress. I went to the doctor and got prescribed some pills to help me with that anxiety, and I took those pills for the next fifteen months.

Fifteen months of relying on pills to balance my stress ... because of Sue.

#4. We're now up to the fall of 2004. I'd spent the morning training this new kid Josh on the New York lamps. We did two orders of acid etch between 7:00 and 9:00. After break we did two orders of front leads, which took until sometime after 10:00. We were in a pretty good groove by that point, and we broke down the one screen and set up the phosphor screen in about 10 minutes flat. I was just about to start it up when Sue came by.

"You're just starting the phosphor now?" She has a whole tone of voice with those questions that makes you feel 5 years old. And she looked at the clock, and she made that face. So I was like ... what are you talking about? But she wouldn't listen, she wouldn't even hear my side of it. If she'd stopped to think about it she'd know that we were right on track. But one of the processes slipped her mind and she believed that we'd been setting up the phosphor since 9:00 break and were just now starting it. You'd think that after a few years of having me on her shift that I'd get some benefit of the doubt there, but no. Her mind was made up.

I just kind of shook my head and went back to the press. It wasn't until later on that I discovered something she'd written in the ink logbook. "1 1/2 hour set up!"

I saw that there and I blew sky high. Thinking it is one thing, but there's only one reason to write that in that logbook, which only we see: to embarass me. Oh, and she did. And I was ripping mad the rest of the day.

--So you may ask yourself why, seeing as I was so angry, didn't I take these complaints to the boss. Or the time she got me so mad that I went into screenmaking and kicked the bucket of plastic protectors into the wall and spilled them all over the floor. Or any of the other times. That's a good question. Let me refer you to the next point.

#5. Pushover. A lot of my current anger is a consequence of this final point. I can't even begin to explain how much this bothers me. Jen might have been the one to point it out to me first, but she wasn't alone in thinking that I'd become a complete pushover for Sue. I haven't been me. I haven't been the person who used to joust with Karen in full view of the rest of the crew. I haven't been the person who used to refuse to give in to Sam's demands about how I should treat my own crew. I haven't been the person who almost decked Evan when he wouldn't get out of my way when I was trying to leave for lunch. I haven't been the same person at all.

I let Sue bully me and intimidate me into a shadow of my former self. I let her push me around and turn me into a wimp. Jen wasn't the first person to notice it, but she was the first one to tell me. Since then, I've woken up and smelled the coffee, and I've done my best to bring out the old Shaun .... the Shaun that Guinevere and the rest of the FMC gang would recognize from the old days. June has noticed the difference in me. Skip has noticed the difference, too. And Starr thinks I've swallowed the cat. Well, I'm back. Sue's all but lost her hold over me, and she does not like that, not a bit. Hello me, meet the real me.

So I'm holding a grudge about the pills and the anxiety attacks. I'm holding a grudge for the times she made me so furious I couldn't see straight. But turning me into a whipped little puppy dog? I hate her for that.

And I am going to push the knife in all the way to the handle and twist it.