Twelve Year Sentence
by
Stephan Weber
I just finished serving a twelve year sentence. My crimes? Indecision, lack of commitment, apathy, and bad attitude. I wasn’t in a traditional prison, but rather a prison of the mind, with the structure and enforcement provided by my employer, Ford Motor Company. This odd imprisonment started at the age of nineteen, as my youthful impulsiveness blinded me from foreseeing my future lack of opportunity. Earning good money while figuring out what career path I would travel seemed like a desirable situation. Little did I realize that it was nearly impossible to seriously pursue any interests outside of work – that my dreams would be put on hold indefinitely. Even though it was never my intent to make my job at Ford a career, I slowly began to understand that I had traded limitless future potential for a good paying job. As a result of my decision, I languished for years on the assembly line, which gradually diminished my physical, mental, and spiritual health with each passing year of dull, mindless work.There are many of you who are probably wondering why I couldn’t leave my job earlier. Ford didn’t physically detain me. I wasn’t threatened or coerced. However, there were many factors that made leaving an unwise decision. After ninety days, I was part of the UAW, which gave me benefits that were hard to come by for someone with just a high school diploma. I had full health benefits and I was making over $50,000 per year in the mid-1990’s. In addition to this, Ford prepaid my tuition (up to $4600 per year when I left) which I thought was a wonderful way to continue my education. Another added bonus was the sizable pension I was entitled to after five years of service. If I wanted to leave the company, I had to land a job with comparable pay and benefits or else departing would not make sense.
Also, the working conditions weren’t horrible. I had a good time working at Ford, despite the negative effects it was having on me. A great deal of camaraderie developed between my co-workers and I, which I will always cherish. It is akin to lifelong friendships forged during trying times; bonds founded for survival. We helped each other cope with the rigors and effects of our work. We also dealt with union and company politics. Often unrepresented by either party, we were forced to fend for ourselves. We hung out together after long days or nights of work, sharing stories and dreams with each other, and we also drank more than a few beers together down at the riverfront bars.
Despite having good friends at work, I grew increasingly unhappy and frustrated. This began about one year after I commenced employment with at Ford’s Chicago Assembly Plant. I started to resent working at Ford, especially as I contemplated what my life would have been like if I had not worked there. My life revolved around my job. We worked anywhere from forty to fifty hours per week. Part-time employment would have been an attractive option, but this was not allowed by the UAW-Ford contracts. This made it challenging to partake in outside pursuits such as attending school, joining organized sports, playing bass guitar in my band, or even spending time with friends. Thinking about the activities I missed so much made it more difficult to come in to work and deal with the constant stress of the assembly line.
Assembly line work at Ford was deceiving at first. I lost fifty excess pounds in the first two months and I had a lot of money in my pocket. The physical benefits were short-lived as my hands started going numb and my feet started aching from performing ten hours of the same tasks everyday. I chose to deal with the pain by working through it, as medicine didn’t have much effect anyway. I took pride in doing an operation that was so difficult for most. After about two years, my hands started falling asleep on me. Although my feet hurt from carrying my 300 pound body around for eight to ten hours a day, my hands were in worse condition. I couldn’t grab anything without using both hands for a couple hours after waking because I was afraid I’d drop it. I didn’t go to the doctor for a number of self-serving reasons including stubbornness, fear of reprisal at work, and fear of having surgery. Fortunately, after about five years of doing the job assignment that damaged my hands, I was able to switch to a less demanding job that gave my hands a chance to start healing.
I suffered through constant pain with my hands for a while, but even more significant damage was being done to my psyche. The nature of the assembly line forces habits upon workers after about two weeks of doing the same operation. I eventually could do an operation with my eyes closed, including the walking from the stock rack to the vehicle. While I formed the necessary habits pertaining to the job I was on at any one time, I also developed other routines, such as conditioning my body to use the bathroom on break, listening to the radio after lunch, or reading on my first break. These habits are generally harmless, but not all of the ones I developed were. The worst side effect from working on the assembly line was the numbing of the brain. Once I learned a job, no further mental effort was needed. It was all routine. A car came to my station, I worked on it, then waited briefly for the next car before starting the same process over again. If my mind wasn’t occupied with music, conversation, reading material (if the job permitted enough time to read a paragraph or two between cars), or some conscious mental effort like crossword puzzles, I would begin to daydream. They say, “an idle mind is the devil’s playground.” It couldn’t be truer here, as it took a noticeable toll on my quick wit. When I noticed I had to search for words as I was talking to co-workers, I tried to keep my mind active with daily reading or mind games – anything that would keep me from becoming a habitual automaton dedicated to building cars. I witnessed the workers who failed to prevent this undesirable fate. They ended up strung out on drugs or alcohol, looking ten years older than their actual age, destined to work at Ford for the rest of their shortened lives. I didn’t venture any further down the road to mental simplicity, but I always wonder if I lost something that can’t be retrieved.
As physically and mentally draining as my work was at Ford, the most damaging abuse was to my spirit, causing me to become depressed and complacent. I attended a few classes at college over my first three years at Ford, but soon I lacked the motivation to continue. The major reason for this was not directly associated with the assembly line, but was a byproduct of the factory environment, the night shift. There were two shifts devoted to production at Ford. The day shift always started at 6 a.m. The night shift had to adjust start times according the number of hours dayshift worked, since the production shifts could not overlap. That meant working 3: 30 p.m. to midnight on an 8 hour production schedule and a brutal 5:30 p.m. to 4 in the morning on a mandatory ten hour overtime schedule. The night shift is one of the most underrated reasons why so many blue collar workers have such serious issues such as drug dependency, sexual addictions, and broken families. The isolation from family, friends, and normal life, especially when working the ten hour shifts, wore on my spirit. I only saw my friends and family on the weekends. My academic career was stalled because it was so difficult to think at 11 in the morning after getting to bed at 5 or 6 a.m.
By the time I had enough seniority to move to dayshift, I was 25, and soon to be married. I started attending school again, but I still felt stuck in a job that had become sheer drudgery. I longed for upward mobility. This was achieved at Ford primarily by going into management. However, this was an undesirable option; the upper echelons were full of some of the most reprehensible and arrogant managers I could imagine. I also thought about the possibility of securing a well-paying job outside of Ford, but my chances were hampered by my lack of transferable skills. So it seemed that the traditional plan of working for Ford for thirty years (in order to secure a full pension and benefits) was a foregone conclusion. I previously envisioned a more rewarding career, but it appeared most likely that I would have to place my wishes on hold and wait until I was about 50 years old to start living a more meaningful life. Fortunately, a miraculous turn of events was unfolding.
As the automotive business became more competitive over the last decade, Ford continued to rely on truck sales for the bulk of its profits while neglecting to improve the profitability of its cars. Two automotive companies, Toyota and Honda, already respected for their cars, decided to make a push into the truck market. This move posed a serious risk to Ford’s profitability, causing Ford to take long overdue action. Ford negotiated buyouts with the United Auto Workers giving cash outright to some workers and allowing others to retire early. I chose a third option to separate from Ford and pursue an education. The buyout package I was offered was acceptable for my family’s financial security and it calmed my anxiety over leaving a good job (and pension). My spirit has been renewed. My mind and body continue to recover. I was given a second chance at living my dreams. I hope the trials that I detailed here will provide encouragement for others not to put off living their dreams for temporal rewards. This learning experience has shaped my life for the better and has cured me from the “crimes” I originally committed, but I’d rather have spent those twelve years chasing my dreams.