I've had a love-hate relationship with the word, 'productivity.' With my occupation, it is highly encouraged to be as productive as possible, but it feels strange to see myself being the only one performing. My shift ended several hours ago, but I still can't shake my distaste for how few cares my fellow coworkers give. Seeing how the pandemic is still going on, and a lot of people are finally understanding the lasting power it can hold on human life, workers are feeling fatigued. My fellow stock crew are of no exception to this. 

Throw in a couple of icy nights and an incoming snow storm, and the remaining cares have been tossed in the rushing winds. Warehouse employees were scarce several days ago, so our truck size dwindled, only to come back up in monstrous quantity last night. My aisle called for eleven man hours. A singular aisle in a grocery store demanded my full and undivided attention, plus another's partial. The aisle was stocked in seven hours' time, and I was whisked away to bail out another coworker. This disgruntled me as I checked the summarized times for the aisles. I was being sent to continue stocking for an aisle that called for five hours worth of stocking time. 

While I understand that not everyone can be as productive as others, I do expect for said others to meet company standards. Our standards are a wee bit harsh, but they are manageable. The company asks for the stockers to perform at an average of 55 cases of product per hour, or working a case every 55 seconds.  From picking up the box, to breaking the cardboard down, this is manageable. What I saw was inefficiency, and I will not stand for it. Why make your life harder? The answer can not be, "I get paid by the hour." I watched this worker walk ten steps from his pallet of product to his cardboard cart, just to place a box in it, and repeat the process for his aisle's stocking. 

In a hindsight of how I value productivity:  I use my laziness to my advantage. Everything I need is within an arm's reach. My pallet, cart, stocking destination, boxcutter, and water bottle. I'm even starting to memorize how to open certain boxes of product in a particular way, just to cut down mere seconds. I don't have time to waste, because I don't want to be in that store any longer than I have to be. So if I can use my productivity to be lazy, and vice versa, so be it.

Productivity is coming at me in my writing as well. I've never been one to have multiple tabs open on my browser, but I am kicking myself for not doing it sooner. As I type this, I have three different Gay Authors tabs open:  one for my most recent chapter of Cernunnos (using it as a footnote since I'm writing the next chapter), one for the Last Post Wins game in the forums, and one writing this blog. Along with those tabs, I have my Google Drive tab, my documents tab holding Chapter 11 of Cernunnos, and a Google Search tab for anything I may need. Before my writing adventure, I have never had more than two tabs open on a single browser. I am feeling like a computer mastermind with all these tabs running!

I feel as I am getting somewhere in writing, but I also get the sense of holding myself back. I'm not looking for money as a product of my writing. I'm searching for an escape from being productive at my job. I don't feel appreciated for busting my butt there. Here...I'm thanked, and that feels weird to me. Every job I've had, I have thoughtlessly outperformed my fellow man, and I don't get thanked a lot. With every chapter I post, I get told, "Great job," or, "I love this," or, "Thank you for this chapter!"

This has caused the term 'productivity' to have a warped definition to me. In one half of my life, I find it to be troublesome to be productive, while the other praises me. My thoughts are at war, and I don't know how to combat that. I've never been one to articulate my emotions before, but writing has opened that door for me. It is only cracked open, but the drafting winds are appealing to me. With words, I think I can finally begin to understand some of my mental issues and speak out about them. I don't know what they are, and for the time being, I'd rather them remain nameless. 

So, for now, I'll just relate my issues to Bo Burnham's Left Brain, Right Brain song. I've always found solace in the song, but I could only find reason in the fact that I love comedy. Expanding my thoughts, the song is much more relatable. My job and hobby are at war, and, just as the song states, "my creativity and analysis are at war." Productivity is a hellish word in my job, while it is welcome in my hobby. Productivity...is just forkin' weird.