CHECKING. — A Worker-Solidarity Satire
WORKER: I moved the freight.
CHECKING: Checking.
WORKER: I unloaded the freight, sorted the freight, fixed the machine that sorts the freight, covered for Gary because Gary’s kid was sick, and ate half a sandwich standing beside a pallet jack.
CHECKING: We’re currently checking whether that workflow was sustainable.
WORKER: It was not.
CHECKING: Thank you. We’ll add that to the checking queue.
Meanwhile, three floors above the loading dock, the Department of Checking Whether Things Have Been Checked has encountered a crisis.
Someone has increased the number of forms from seven to eight.
An emergency ergonomic assessment is underway.
A lumbar pillow has been dispatched.
Two middle managers have been placed on administrative hydration.
The Assistant Deputy Coordinator for Checking Load Distribution has issued a statement:
«“Our people are carrying a lot right now.”»
Downstairs, Luis is carrying a transmission.
The worker’s job description contains the phrase:
“Other duties as assigned.”
The checker’s job description contains the phrase:
“Please respect established scope.”
The worker receives:
- one fluorescent vest;
- a radio with a cracked battery cover;
- fourteen passwords;
- a printer that smells like hot pennies;
- and the spiritual certainty that somebody will ask why the truck is six minutes late.
The checker receives:
- an ergonomic chair;
- an ergonomic keyboard;
- an ergonomic mouse;
- an ergonomic mousepad;
- an ergonomic footrest;
- a standing desk;
- a sitting desk;
- a consultant explaining the emotional complexity of transitioning between the two desks;
- and a quarterly wellness seminar titled “Boundaries in Times of Increased Spreadsheet Activity.”
Nobody begrudges them the chair.
Workers like chairs.
Give everybody the fucking chair.
That is, in fact, the point.
At 10:17 a.m., management announces a 3% productivity increase.
The loading dock responds:
“Okay.”
The kitchen responds:
“Okay.”
Maintenance responds:
“Which machine is about to explode?”
Housekeeping responds:
“We already did six percent.”
The Checking Department enters DEFCON 2.
A meeting is scheduled to determine whether the increased expectation should first be:
reviewed, routed, triaged, contextualized, scoped, aligned, circulated, workshopped, returned for revision, and then checked.
The worker asks:
“Can I just do the thing?”
A silence falls over the institution.
Nobody has ever proposed anything so reckless.
The genius of bureaucracy is not that nobody works.
Plenty of people inside bureaucracy work very hard.
The genius is that somehow labor becomes most visible precisely where the least weight is being physically carried.
A warehouse worker moves 4,000 pounds:
“Normal operations.”
A checker receives twelve additional emails:
“We need to talk about capacity.”
A nurse skips lunch:
“Coverage issue.”
A coordinator’s standing meeting moves from 45 minutes to 60:
“Unsustainable workload escalation.”
A custodian cleans vomit at 2:00 a.m.:
“Routine.”
Someone in Process Assurance gets added to a second Teams channel:
“This pace cannot continue.”
And the workers, being workers, look at each other across every department and recognize the same ancient miracle:
The people carrying the institution are somehow always told they are the least qualified to discuss how heavy it is.
Then comes the middleman layer.
The worker tells the supervisor.
The supervisor tells the coordinator.
The coordinator tells the liaison.
The liaison tells the analyst.
The analyst tells the reviewer.
The reviewer asks the coordinator whether the worker has completed Form 17-C confirming that the problem previously described as a problem is still, at present, a problem.
The message eventually returns to the worker:
“Can you provide additional context?”
The worker points at the fire.
The liaison begins taking notes.
None of this means the checker is the enemy.
That would be too easy, and workers have been handed that trick before.
Office worker versus shop worker.
Union versus non-union.
Public sector versus private sector.
Nurse versus custodian.
Driver versus dispatcher.
Teacher versus aide.
Everybody fighting sideways while somebody upstairs quietly purchases a second lake house.
No.
The funniest ending is also the most dangerous one to the people who benefit from the arrangement:
The checker looks downstairs and realizes,
“Wait. I’m labor too.”
The warehouse worker looks upstairs and says,
“Correct. Bring your lumbar pillow. We’re organizing.”
Now the meeting changes.
Not:
Who deserves fewer protections?
But:
Why doesn’t everybody get them?
Not:
Why does that worker have an ergonomic chair?
But:
Why does Maria’s back have to be destroyed before anyone considers ergonomics relevant?
Not:
Why are they complaining?
But:
Why have we normalized suffering so thoroughly that the only absurdity we can still recognize is somebody being protected from it?
That is worker solidarity.
You do not solve unequal comfort by making everybody miserable.
You solve it by dragging the good shit downstairs.
So yes:
Keep the chair.
Keep the breaks.
Keep the manageable caseload.
Keep the right to complain when workload rises.
Keep the fucking lumbar pillow.
Then unionize the loading dock and order 400 more.
Because the scandal was never that somebody had protection.
The scandal was that protection somehow became a luxury product administered by six layers of people asking whether the people without it had filled out the proper request.
And somewhere, beneath the fluorescent lights, the freight is still moving.
The floor is still being cleaned.
The patient is still being lifted.
The call is still being answered.
The machine is still being repaired.
The food is still being cooked.
The road is still being plowed.
The child is still being taught.
And labor, as usual, is carrying the whole ridiculous contraption on its back while an email arrives from upstairs:
Subject: ACTION REQUIRED — Checking Process Improvement Survey
The worker opens it.
Looks at the truck.
Looks at the clock.
Clicks:
“Remind me later.”
Solidarity forever. ✊
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