I can't say that the 8 months I worked at Home Goods benefited me much beyond the pocket change it provided and the aforementioned boost to my self-esteem. But it did open my eyes to a big, nay HUGE, issue we as a society face today, though few people realize it.
We produce so much waste, it's staggering.
This Home Goods was tucked away across the street from the Alderwood Mall. Being a typical American center of commerce, the mall boasted many such stores, of which Home Goods was just one.
A typical day of work for me would start at 7 am. Myself, along with five or six other stockers would unload a truck filled to the brim with merchandise. Each of us standing in our own assembly lines, we would slice and dice the cardboard boxes contained said merchandise with our handy dandy box cutters the way a hunter skins a fresh kill. Slicing away the dull brown cardboard skin, we would then with brutal efficiency remove its guts and innards-- those being packing peanuts, shredded newspaper, and large blocks of styrofoam-- and callously dispose of them in the nearest garbage receptacle. Each assembly lane had two large garbage cans for just that purpose. Once a garbage can was full, we would remove the garbage bag, close it, and cart it outside to the convenient dumpster behind the store.
As is common when one is engrossed in a relatively mindless task, I paid very little attention to just how much trash I was producing while liberating kitchenware, tacky vases, carpets, and other prizes from their cardboard prisons. I was just there to do a job, collect a little spending money, and go home.
That is, until the day I was on garbage duty.
For a smoother, more efficient assembly line, one employee was designated Garbage Man, the worlds lamest superhero. That employees only job for the shift was collecting cardboard and garbage while the others worked. Not exactly the most stimulating task, but then it wasn't as if anything else was. At least we didn't have to deal with customers.
On that day, that inquisitive mental spark which had been hibernating for the past year behind a heavy wet blanket of depression, apathy, and cynicism stirred. Just a bit.
I began to count the bags of garbage I was hauling out to the dumpster, as well as how often I needed to take one out and replace it with a fresh bag. I even kept on my person a sheet of paper and pen to make a tally.
Over the course of three and a half hours-- a typical shift for us-- I delivered 46 bags of garbage, bags bursting at the seams, to the filthy green dumpster behind the Home Goods. That dumpster was literally overflowing with trash bags; near the end of my shift, I was forced to set the trash bags around the the dumpster, because no more would fit.
And that didn't even include the trash produced by the rest of the store.
As I stood outside staring at the mountain of mess, my expression no doubt slack-jawed, my mind ran the numbers. This particular Home Goods was on the small size. All by itself, it had produced 46 large bags of junk in less than 4 hours. It was a single store surrounded by many others like it. Each of those stores likely had their own large ugly green dumpsters filled to the brim with more garbage. And everyday, they would be emptied by a garbage truck and disposed of in a landfill, conveniently out of sight and mind, only be filled again the next day. Day in and day out, week after week, month after month. For years.
I was overcome with a swell of emotions. I felt an astonishing amount of anger, at myself, the store, and our consumer society as a whole. Then came the sorrow and grief over what I felt was a hopeless situation. Year after bleak year, stores all over the world produce vast mountains of waste and garbage. Where does it end?
At the end of that days shift, I washed my hands of the dirt and grime it had collected and went home. But for the rest of the day, I was haunted by visions of that horrid green dumpster. It made going to work the next day and the day after that much more difficult.
When I was a small boy, I wanted to be an environmental scientist. I wanted to save the world. I paraded around the neighborhood, preaching at the other kids and adults alike about the virtues of planting trees and picking up liter.
I was often called a slew of derogatory names-- the nicest of which was "tree hugging pussy." As time went by, I learned to keep my environmental opinions to myself; it was easier to not get picked on and beat up by the other kids that way. Ah, youth.
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| "You care about stuff? Ha ha, nerd!" |
But the urge to do something, to save the environment from what we like to call progress remains to this day. The problem is figuring out how.
There are so many issues of staggering scale that I can't help but feel intimidated by them. Climate Change, Ocean Acidification, Colony Collapse Disorder, Strip Mining, the clear cutting of vast tracks of rain forests and more. Entire species are being brought to the brink of extinction, or pushed past it. The coral reefs around the world are being eroded, plastic bags and bottles are strangling ocean life, and there are entire regions of oceanic dead zones, areas which are oxygen depleted due to excessive nutrient pollution caused by our species.
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| This is a PROBLEM. |
The list goes on and on. But it appears that no one really cares. They can't see these issues or how they effect us all, so why care? Ain't nobody got time for that, not with their Facebook feeds exploding with the latest article about the next iphone and the exploits of Kanye West.
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| "Yo, imma let you finish." |
I can't help but feel nauseated and not a little angry when I mention pressing issues such as the mass death of honey bees and all I get is a disinterested expression staring back at me, eyes glazed with lack of concern. And that, more than anything, scares the living hell out of me. Because even more than the greed of big corporations, the lazy disregard of the ignorant will doom us all.
It feels as if I am the only person I know who seems to truly care. Am I? Someone please tell me I'm not alone. Please.
