The World On Time

I must begin with a disclaimer. In my employee manual, FedEx suggested that I do so, and as a new hiree, I feel obliged to respect their (its? her?) wishes. They even provided the wording for me, in case any effusions of creative inspiration on my part left a legal loophole big enough for a lawyer to jump through (which wouldn't take much, but in any case, FedEx doesn't strike me as the type which appreciates artistic liberties). So here it is, in all its corporate glory:

“This is my personal blog and only contains my own views, thoughts and opinions. It is not endorsed by FedEx nor does it constitute an official communication of FedEx.” I like it. Short, to the point, efficient.

But to clarify, and because I probably need to set my own boundaries, I shall include a self-composed disclaimer as well:

“This is my personal blog and only contains my own thoughts, stories, and details. I hope no one I work with/for actually reads this, but in case they do, I will do my best to be fair, honest, and to refrain from unnecessary bashing. It is not my desire now—or ever in the future—to offend anyone.” But I hope you will lend me some grace. I'm still figuring out this whole writing-private-thoughts-in-a-public-domain thing. It's more challenging than I thought it would be.

This week I learned how to drive a truck, or more specifically, a FedEx W700. It looks like this, except ours is older and definitely a diesel, not a hybrid electric:

I know, I know. You're impressed.

The one in which I learned to drive also had extra windows and benches behind the driver's seat, for training multiple students. For this reason, the swing courier with the blonde pigtails (I haven't caught her name yet) calls it the FedEx limo. It doesn't ride like a limo though. For one thing, it's very loud; the engine is angry sounding, and anything in the back bounces around like marbles in a tin can. It also, obviously, looks nothing like a limo, although momentary I felt very important sitting up high in the driver's seat, bumbling along down 28^th Street. Until I remembered that I was in a FedEx truck bumbling along down 28^th Street. From now on, I am that vehicle that no one wants to get stuck behind and everyone wants to avoid. I hope I don't get too many angry glances.

Still, a job is a job, and I have no right to complain about it. The other woman in my training class got laid off from an industrial job a year ago, and she seems extremely grateful to be employed at all, more grateful than I am. I can't take that for granted, especially since FedEx is such a well-respected company and the pay is nothing to scoff at. Having a four-year degree doesn't make me any better than the rest of them.

Therefore: optimism. That is the word of the week. A positive attitude. I'm not going to let myself whine about my misfortune in not landing a more intellectually stimulating job. Not yet. Yes, already I feel I have a lengthy list of possible complains about my current work, but who doesn't? Those can come out later, in other blog entries. For now: optimism.