So here's the deal:
I've been irritable>exhausted>irritable>exhausted etc. for the past couple of days. It finally came to a head yesterday at work. Two days in a row I walked in to find one of my biggest pet (work) peeves in full force. First I'll have to explain a little about this aspect of the work I do...
When we pick orders, they get put on 8, 16 or 20 carts. These numbers represent how many slots each cart has, one order per slot; there are usually several books per order. The size of the orders and/or the size of the books themselves dictate what type of cart they go on, indicated on the order-picking sheet. Those who are picking books pick up the sheets and grab the appropriate cart, and start pulling the necessary books, placing them in the correctly numbered slot (each book pulled has been assigned a slot number). When the orders and the carts have been filled, they are brought back into shipping, where the carts are "broken down" one by one. There are usually 2 or 3 people doing this. Those who are breaking down take each order from its slot on the cart, weigh it to make sure that it's the right weight, a process which is necessary for shipping cost purposes. There's a long, oval shaped conveyor belt with lunch room-style trays on it, and the person breaking down places the weighed order on a tray on the conveyor belt, again one order per tray, until the cart has been emptied and they grab another to unload. On the other side of the conveyor belt are cubbies with people either "boarding" or "boxing" the orders. Boxing is pretty self-explanatory; larger orders go in boxes. However many of our orders aren't that large, and we "board" them. Simply put, this means that we take a sheet of cardboard and wrap it around the book(s) with its order slip and a copy of our catalog, crimping and stapling the ends before sending it down another conveyor belt for delivery.
With me so far?
So here's my pet peeve. I come in and want to pick a 20 cart; there are a ton of orders waiting to be filled. BUT, almost all of the 20 carts are full, waiting to be broken down. There aren't enough people boarding, and the trays on the conveyor belt are full of books from the 16 and 8 carts. There are plenty of 16 and 8 carts already available to pickers, but the people breaking down are ignoring this fact and just keep breaking those down as the 20s pile up. People have their favorite carts to work with, and ignore the others. I get this with picking, but there's no difference between carts when breaking down. Maybe they have a touch of OCD too, but they won't break down the 20s unless told to. Anyway, I jumped into a cubby and started to board in order to clear out some trays for 20s, but the people breaking down continue to fill them with the other orders almost as quickly, and I'm getting steamed. To make matters worse, the stapling machine in the cubby I ducked into is defective; the staples kept breaking or not going through the cardboard. I found Joel, the shipping supervisor, and explained what was happening with my stapler. He came over, tried one staple and of course, it worked for him. He made some smart crack, and I snapped. I informed him that I was not in the mood to play, I just wanted it fixed. It wasn't what I said so much as how I said it, and it felt good to do it I have to admit. Luckily, he's a mellow person and someone I'm friendly with, so it didn't really bother him. He moved me to another station and after awhile I got enough orders boarded that I could go break down a 20. I kept that up almost all day, jumping from breaking down to boarding. I apologized to Joel later, and he said "That's what I'm here for." I informed him that he is not there to be snapped at, that he's there to listen when someone has a problem, and to address it if he's able. He insisted that he's there to be snapped at. I decided to let it go, wondering all the while how he got so beat down that he believes that he's truly around to get dumped on. I simply apologized again and thanked him for understanding.
Having had that brief snit, I felt- and continue to feel- better.
That was long, so I'll leave it there for now. Except that I'll share this fun thing with you...
Leaving out the first name for the sake of this person, I boarded an order for an O Fender. Say it out loud if you need to. :0)
The address was a legit one, so I think that this is, unfortunately for him, his actual middle initial and last name.
I've been irritable>exhausted>irritable>exhausted etc. for the past couple of days. It finally came to a head yesterday at work. Two days in a row I walked in to find one of my biggest pet (work) peeves in full force. First I'll have to explain a little about this aspect of the work I do...
When we pick orders, they get put on 8, 16 or 20 carts. These numbers represent how many slots each cart has, one order per slot; there are usually several books per order. The size of the orders and/or the size of the books themselves dictate what type of cart they go on, indicated on the order-picking sheet. Those who are picking books pick up the sheets and grab the appropriate cart, and start pulling the necessary books, placing them in the correctly numbered slot (each book pulled has been assigned a slot number). When the orders and the carts have been filled, they are brought back into shipping, where the carts are "broken down" one by one. There are usually 2 or 3 people doing this. Those who are breaking down take each order from its slot on the cart, weigh it to make sure that it's the right weight, a process which is necessary for shipping cost purposes. There's a long, oval shaped conveyor belt with lunch room-style trays on it, and the person breaking down places the weighed order on a tray on the conveyor belt, again one order per tray, until the cart has been emptied and they grab another to unload. On the other side of the conveyor belt are cubbies with people either "boarding" or "boxing" the orders. Boxing is pretty self-explanatory; larger orders go in boxes. However many of our orders aren't that large, and we "board" them. Simply put, this means that we take a sheet of cardboard and wrap it around the book(s) with its order slip and a copy of our catalog, crimping and stapling the ends before sending it down another conveyor belt for delivery.
With me so far?
So here's my pet peeve. I come in and want to pick a 20 cart; there are a ton of orders waiting to be filled. BUT, almost all of the 20 carts are full, waiting to be broken down. There aren't enough people boarding, and the trays on the conveyor belt are full of books from the 16 and 8 carts. There are plenty of 16 and 8 carts already available to pickers, but the people breaking down are ignoring this fact and just keep breaking those down as the 20s pile up. People have their favorite carts to work with, and ignore the others. I get this with picking, but there's no difference between carts when breaking down. Maybe they have a touch of OCD too, but they won't break down the 20s unless told to. Anyway, I jumped into a cubby and started to board in order to clear out some trays for 20s, but the people breaking down continue to fill them with the other orders almost as quickly, and I'm getting steamed. To make matters worse, the stapling machine in the cubby I ducked into is defective; the staples kept breaking or not going through the cardboard. I found Joel, the shipping supervisor, and explained what was happening with my stapler. He came over, tried one staple and of course, it worked for him. He made some smart crack, and I snapped. I informed him that I was not in the mood to play, I just wanted it fixed. It wasn't what I said so much as how I said it, and it felt good to do it I have to admit. Luckily, he's a mellow person and someone I'm friendly with, so it didn't really bother him. He moved me to another station and after awhile I got enough orders boarded that I could go break down a 20. I kept that up almost all day, jumping from breaking down to boarding. I apologized to Joel later, and he said "That's what I'm here for." I informed him that he is not there to be snapped at, that he's there to listen when someone has a problem, and to address it if he's able. He insisted that he's there to be snapped at. I decided to let it go, wondering all the while how he got so beat down that he believes that he's truly around to get dumped on. I simply apologized again and thanked him for understanding.
Having had that brief snit, I felt- and continue to feel- better.
That was long, so I'll leave it there for now. Except that I'll share this fun thing with you...
Leaving out the first name for the sake of this person, I boarded an order for an O Fender. Say it out loud if you need to. :0)
The address was a legit one, so I think that this is, unfortunately for him, his actual middle initial and last name.
(hugs)
I'm always amazed at how many work stories revolve around a non-functioning stapler! Someone should get on improving that design...