English 111-63
Diagnostic Essay Revised
01 December 2009
A Bad Trip in the Wash Room
As I swallowed the last spoonful of my Reese Puffs, I heard the hum of a high mileage inline 4 pickup truck pulling up to my house. My ride to work had arrived. Little did I know, I would be riding in my boss' truck for the next 3 months to the sweaty workshop of a screen printer.
I was bursting with enthusiasm the first day of the job, after all, I was getting paid to learn how to professionally screen print. I concentrated on grasping the techniques a screen printer implements everyday of work, and it paid off quite nicely. By the end of the week, I was printing real orders of t-shirts to be sent out up and down the east coast. Have you seen the Jimmy Buffet t-shirt collection? Yeah, I printed those. Unfortunately, the climax of the job's interest had soon came to a peak.
The next few weeks became as repetitive as the sight of a business man behind the wheel of a Toyota Prius. If I wasn't taking a shower in my own sweat, thanks to the enormous oven in the center of the warehouse, I was in the wash room getting high off the chemicals cascading off the screens as I prepared the screens for another image. Everyday at work I seemed to only care about two parts of the day, parts which only knocked out 15 minutes of the entire shift. The 10 minute lunch break was always something to look forward to. Believe me when I say I scavenged for every last piece of peanut butter cracker in my lunch bag for an excuse to not return to work early. The lunch break was a great time killer but nothing could compared to the sound of the keys as I clocked myself out at the end of the day. I pushed aside my hatred towards the job and continued on as I was addicted to a constant flow of big paychecks. These triple digit paychecks were quite effective at keep my complaints at bay, that is, until the day when my body shut down.
I was working hard at keeping myself occupied like every other day, washing the never ending supply of screens. It was coming to the end of the first half of work when I started breathing heavily. My first thought was my lungs needed a break from the the fumes, so I stepped out of the wash room for a minute to relax and get my body reorientated. After sneaking in a small break, I strapped on my rubber gloves and went back to work. I scrubbed screens for another 10 minutes and then it happened again, my breathing had taken on traits of a person suffering from sleep apnea. Before I had time to remove the gloves from my hands my vision started to blur. I tried my best to stop from panicking and swiftly thought of a plan. I had to make it to the kitchen. The kitchen had chairs, air conditioning, water, and everything thing else I would need for relief. I made my way to the kitchen, stumbling like a drunk leaving a bar. By the time I reached the cabinet, my vision was reduced to the recognition of basic shapes. I frantically reached for a glass and poured myself a glass of tap water. I could barely move my muscles as I fell into the kitchen chair. I slowly put my head on the table after taking a swig of water. The next thing I remember was my boss waking me up to see if I was alright. Doing my best to keep an even voice tone, I told him what had happened. He brought me into his office and told me to lay down with my feet up. I stayed as still as an inanimate object until my mother came and picked me up. I had just experienced heat exhaustion. I had failed to recognize it being around water all day though. I became skeptical about my future in the screen printing industry.
A few days passed before I was ready to go back to work. I put aside the past and went straight to business. Something changed however, I was void of any motivation to continue to work for that generous paycheck. I finished out the week at work, thriving to leave co workers with a memory of a positive attitude. At the end of the week I broke the news to both my boss and my parents, I have had enough. There was an overwhelming amount of disappoint from both parties, however it had to be done for my own mental health.
I would be lying if I said I didn't learn anything while working as a screen printing. Over the course of the summer I learned an amazing skill, as well as earned money for all my summer adventures. However, regardless of these benefits, I was miserable. At the end of my last day of work I left his screen printing shop with a smile on my face. Why? I knew it couldn't get any worse than what I had been through those past months.
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