I found heaven at a warehouse

I have been so easily swayed  by the  stereotype  I never agreed to,  by the  social norm  I could neither verify nor embrace,  by the  expectations I never wished to meet The pure, radiant, and sometimes dynamic energy around them — it felt like the warm sunlight falling on a withering tree that had never bloomed before,  the tender rain nourishing the wilted soil of my spirit, gently coaxing the desire to live back to life. Their warm glances blossomed into the light small talk, then grew into sincere acts of kindness.  All knowledge and information were shared openly, every question met with earnest answers,  and where something was lacking, it was filled with care. No call for help was ever turned away. In a harsh world where those who own nine take the only possession of those who have one in order to  complete their ten, even at corners of the  logistics  world,  alongside these quiet souls who b...

“Namaste (Hello)”  I awkwardly  greeted in Hindi to  an Indian lady  passing by me . Unexpectedly,  the cold, expressionless face—like a frozen wasteland blanketed in pitch-black darkness slowly warmed with the gentle glow of spring morning sunlight, and a bright smile blossomed like a sunflower in full bloom.  I gathered my courage to ask for her name.  "Yapka naam kya hai?" (What is your name?)  She was startled at my Hindi —and then shyly told me her name, but it was too long for me to remember. An Indian boy  walking toward me stepped aside to give me the way. "Dhanyavaad" (Thank you)" I said, waving my half-raised hand  in gratitude.  He gave me a smile as bright as  a hundred fluorescent lights lit up all at once. That was the beginning. The few clumsy words of Hindi from my mouth became a magical key to   the doors of their hearts.  Their attitude toward changed, and so did the way I saw them. I ...

They never fail to amaze me. With a grotesque red dot painted dead center on their foreheads,   exuding a grim solemnity, they unleash the hellish remarks that strip the soul bare,and hurl barbed,venomous glares like needles- their behavior is always beyond expectation.                 It is as if they all attended a crash course for eradicating the common sense and basic manner . W hatever I imagined, they topped it.  The long line for signing the attendance sheet instantly dissolves into a free‑for‑all of cutting in from every angle, then dries up just as quickly.  My borrowed pen lies discarded on the table, then was swarmed by dark hands , shared like a communal toy, disappeared into thin air. Once a packed box even flew above the conveyor and impaled itself on my collection trolley. As though surviving the hell of work , which demands devouring others’ labor, they drain every ounce of others' effort with my own included. . Such...

I dragged a metal cart for pick with a high vis vest and clunky safety boots on me. I looked like a truly pitiful  prisoner stripped of self-respect in a uniform that robs dignity. I  lamented my situation.   A samll mercy was that I was far away from the gossipy Korean expat community in Australia. I did not have to worry about those 'watchful eyes'.  I had to use the muscles I have not touched before , so t his labor—what Calvin once called “divine”—was making my whole body ache. Things like racial background, the nationality, or the past career meant nothing at the workplace. All temp workers followed the same dress code, received the same rate, and did the same tasks. That equality built  a strange sense of kinship of the shared struggle, and most people treat one another without barriers. This setup, reminiscent of communism ’s ideals of’ work together, share together’, ironically coexists with the capitalism —the very system that thrives on...

I was freefalling like a bird with broken wings,  doomed to flutter helplessly in the gutter.  Looking back on my life, I realized that no matter how hard I worked, the results never came.   At every crucial moment, things fell apart dramatically. Just one step from the goal, I tripped and fell, which made me feel like a flower that withers without blooming, the sun that sets before it rises.  After failing in my IT challenge followed , depression began to surface as I isolated myself from the society. Given the decline in the mental health inevitably affects   the  physical health, it would be a matter of time that I would become a complete recluse . I had to get out into the world before it was too late. I had to do something—anything.  Out of desperation,I landed a job in logistics at a major department store warehouse through a labor hire agency.  2. The first impression at the warehouse The plastic tubs fill...

1. Career Transition in My 50s |   It was a reckless challenge—like throwing an egg at a rock. A senior asian with virtually no hands-on IT experience and imperfect English, dreaming of  career transition  to an IT professional in Australia—just the idea itself was sheer delusion. The decisive reason I chose  Salesforce , a   customer relationship management platform, as  the destination for the next journey was based on the advice of a current Salesforce developer who said Salesforce  was experiencing a surge in the revenue unmatched by any competitor with an exploding demand for skilled professionals.   To make my dream come true, I studied so hard even during the weekend enough to taste metal in my mouth from overwork. I acquired the certifications and even gained hands-on experience through the unpaid volunteer work. 2. Frozen job market and lost hidden card However, maybe the poor timing is a part of my destiny—just as I was prepar...