FedEx - The World On Time

From the beginning of time, humanity has had to work for a living. Whether it be to trade goods with a neighboring village or to be able to afford luxuries that others did not have. Everyone has to survive. We are surviving, right?

I work for FedEx. I started working for FedEx nearly six years ago as a package handler. Being a package handler is more than likely one of the most physical jobs that I have ever had. The job description is inclusive to the job title. Basically, you move packages from one place to another, and they pay you $7.50 an hour for your services. Coming from Putnam County (Podunk Nowhere), $7.50 an hour was pretty good pay. I wasn't arguing at all.

After I worked as a package handler, the company realized that I was good enough to promote. They hired me on as a temp driver for the Christmas season where I worked from 5:00am to about 9:00pm Tuesday through Saturday (I was still handling packages in the morning).

I initially moved to Tallahassee to go to Florida State University (Go Noles!!!!). I can remember the Spring Break where my Dad brought me to Tallahassee to see all of the Florida history. My Dad and I didn't get a ton of alone time, so this was a very special trip for me. We went all over the place sightseeing and whatnot. He showed me all over the Indian sites, the Florida Government, and yes, FSU.

Now, a little background here...my Dad was a graduate of the University of Georgia. He was a die hard Bulldogs Fan. When it came time for football season, all you would hear come out of his mouth was, "Go Dawgs!". There were so many Florida Gator fans in my hometown, that conversations could become teasingly heated at times. He even encouraged me to go up to Gator fans and ask them what happened to the Gators every time that they would lose (which was quite often in those days). For some reason, Gator fans were and are typically annoying, but there are some from time to time that are tolerable. Usually, they proclaim that, "So and so cheated" or "That was a bad call" even when it wasn't.

I didn't really want to move to Georgia as a child because all of my family either lived in Florida or Virginia. Dad wanted me to become a Bulldog. I decided, being the independent thinker that I am, that I would just go to FSU and become a Seminole.

So, soon after graduating from the local Community College, Rusty and I headed for Tallahassee. I'd been sitting around for about three weeks, not doing anything (and loving it), when Rusty packed me up in the car to get a job. The ONLY place that I applied to was FedEx, and that was because it was a mile from our house. They hired me on the spot.

After a few months of working 13 - 15 hour days for FedEx, I was promoted to a Part Time manager. FedEx has fantastic benefits, and one of the benefits that I was to receive was that they would pay 100% of tuition and books for college if I made As and Bs. Obviously, I made As and Bs!

Working my way up the ladder, for lack of a better word, I find myself 2nd in command at our facility. This has its advantages and its disadvantages.

Now, I'd like to preface this with the fact that I love my job, but there are some days that I tend to have less hair than my husband. If you didn't know already, working for FedEx is a very gruelling and trying career. There are a lot of ins and outs that if I tried to explain would make your head spin.

My specific position is called a Pickup & Delivery Manager. Basically, I am the manager of all of the Employees, Contractors, and Drivers. There are about 50 - 75 people at any given time that all answer to me. If you have ever worked in management, you know that there is a lot that can go wrong when this many people work for you. Thus, the lack of hair.

So, as part of my job, I have to monitor the Drivers' customer service, safety habits, and delivery efficiency. In order to do this, I have to go on the road with them on their route. If there is anything that makes me pull my hair out more than covering vacations for everyone that works with me, it is doing these rides.

I have to sit on a chair that I so lovingly call, "The Plank" ALL DAY LONG as the drivers go around corners, go over speed bumps, and bounce around dirty and dusty roads. "The Plank" is practically a piece of wood that is covered in fabric with no more than an inch of padding. It is miserable. Not only do I have to go on these rides with the drivers, but I have to spend the day with these drivers...in a closed compartment. Now, don't get me wrong because I like most of them, but there are some that just drive me batty.

These "men" are such babies. I swear, I will never understand why the male and female "species", so to speak, can not understand each other. Why can't men and women understand each other, but they can put people on the moon? Only God knows.

I have to do these rides at least two times a week. Mondays are Zumba days, Tuesday is Weight Watchers day, and Friday is just Friday. I'm not going to ruin a Friday by being on the road if I can help it! So, by process of elimination, I leave Wednesdays and Thursdays available for my rides.

Keeping in mind that I absolutely HATE going on these rides, I have had a change of heart this week. It occurred to me that I am one of the few people that get to go all over the place and enjoy things that I normally would not get to see.

Our facility services the Gulf Coast in the Panhandle. This past Wednesday and Thursday, I spent the entire day roaming around the Gulf of Mexico (Apalachicola, St. George Island, and several fishing villages). As I was bouncing through Eastpoint, I looked over at the Apalachicola Bay and realized that it's actually pretty nice to be looking out into the ocean. Bouncing over miles of bridges where you realize that the only thing that separates you from the 50 foot drop into the ocean is a seat belt strapped to a "Plank". This is very intimidating. Yes, I seem to put my life in the hands of these drivers that I may or may not even like...hmmmm..

Growing up on the Atlantic ocean, I've often wondered what I couldn't see lying just under the surface. As I was riding, I realized that I would never know. I don't think that I was discouraged in this finding, but more than likely intrigued by the "unknown" that lies beneath.

I did realize one thing though. Even in this miserable situation, I am able to look past the negative and see that the world is such a beautiful place. I may have a stressful career, a busy home life, and a ton of hobbies that keep me busy, but there's always going to be somewhere to escape to, if the need arise.

FedEx's slogan implies that it can cover the world in a timely fashion. Fast. Efficient. Effective. I believe that it accomplishes this feat relatively successfully.

I can't tell you how many times that I have wished for Friday to already be here. I love my weekends! I get to spend time with the family, catch up on some much needed rest (or not, depending on the weekend's schedule), clean up the house a bit, or explore a new neighborhood. Play.

We need to play more often. We need to stop and realize that if we keep wishing away our weeks to only enjoy the weekend, that time is going to go away. It never comes back. FedEx has it right. The world is always looking for the "faster" route. This serves FedEx well, but the rest of us need to enjoy each day for what it is. I can moan and groan about having to go on a ride, and I typically do, but in the long run, had I never had the opportunity to go on the rides, I would never have had certain experiences.

It is these experiences that make us who we are and who are to become. It is these experiences that mold our children. Our children are sponges. Our children see our actions and reactions to certain circumstances and absorb everything. I feel that it is my responsibility to enable my children to enjoy every minute of life and to find the positive in every situation. The "unknowns" of the world are always going to be there.

I may work for FedEx where everything has to be fast and efficient, but I don't live for FedEx.

I want to slow down.

I want to enjoy every minute of every day.

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Do-You-Think-He-Snore-Us

Snoring has always been a common household pest. To some, it rates right up there with the occasional lizard or cockroach. To others, there is really nothing better than snuggling up to the love of your life and falling asleep to the sound of his snore. I guess it all depends on the circumstances. Most of the time, I fall into the latter. Snoring has never really bothered me unless it's one of those nights that I just can't fall asleep no matter how much I try. Usually, it's someone else telling me how badly I snore, and I just deny it: mainly because I don't snore...

Last night, my snoring experience reached new heights. I had a dream last night that just floored me. If any of you have ever seen my Mom's old house, you'd know that it was a very tall house. Some parts of it reached over 25 feet tall, I swear. Well, last night's dream took place in my Mom's old house in Putnam County *which is weird all on its own*.

You all know how dreams are difficult to explain, so bear with me.

Starting at a pretty river in the mountains, I suddenly switch to my Mom's bedroom. There are, of course, dream extras, by which I mean that there are people there that I don't know. The extras were telling me to be really quiet. "Shhh", they said. Of course, I had no idea why anyone needed to be quiet as there was nothing in the house to hide from. I grew up here, and I knew the house inside and out. There was nothing.

All of a sudden, I heard a growl. Now, this wasn't your typcical growl. This was the growl of something that any modern day human had never heard before. I was immediately frightened beyond all belief. This was MY house. What the hell was growling like that in the house that I so know and love? I asked one of the extras, "What the heck was that?" He said, "It's a T-Rex! We've got to run!" Now because I am SO knowledgeable in the area of the T-Rex, and because I saw Jurassic Park like 50 times, I am well aware of what to do when encountered by a T-Rex.

"Don't run!" I said. "I saw this in a movie once. You need to remain completely still. The T-Rex only responds to movement!" So, naturally, everyone listened to me, as it's my damn dream. We listened longer to the growling. Then, it's as like the dinosaur disappeared. We snuck (yes, snuck is a word) around the corners of some rooms, trying to surround the dinosaur on all sides. We wanted to see just what it was doing. Then...all of a sudden...the loudest growl that this T-Rex put forth yet. It shook our ears all the way down to our esophagus. We were terrified. What was the thing doing? Well, it looked like one of my stuffed animals had pissed it off because it was killing it; not that I really liked that one anyway.

The next thing I know, the dinosaur starts to growl again. This animal has figured out that we were watching it. The loudest growl of the dream happens, and I guess I got scared because I woke up instantly to the same growl. It was my loving husband snoring. Apparently half of my dream was a dinosaur growling and I came to realize real quick that my entire dream was brought on by Rusty's snore.

There I was, laughing histerically at 2:00am with the love of my life snuggled right up next to me.

Picture This

I know tons of people that have blogs. They sit down to their computer to discuss topics that vary from absolutely hysterical to an array of emotions that can bring readers to tears. I have thought about the idea of writing a blog for quite some time now, but I never really knew just what I would talk about.

I am sitting in my office at work looking around and thinking about a topic that I could discuss: some profound idea that will entertain the readers, and I'm thinking to myself, "Face it, Rebekah. You are not a profound person. You are simple. You entertain yourself more than you do others."

With that, I have decided that I will just create a blog that I post on random thoughts, feelings, or ideas. I am not a writer. I tend to blab on about random thoughts more than I do a particular subject. At this point, I have already written most of this post, but I have come back up to the top to put in this "disclaimer", if you will, that I'm a blabber... I'm not necessarily certain that I am good at this whole "blogging" thing. If you ask Rusty, he claims that he is the only reason that I passed Composition I in college, but I beg to differ.

For my very first blog ever, I will talk about....hmmm...pictures....

The word "picture" is defined as:

pic·ture - [pik-cher]
–noun
1. a visual representation of a person, object, or scene, as a painting, drawing, photograph, etc.: I carry a picture of my grandchild in my wallet.
2. any visible image, however produced: pictures reflected in a pool of water.
3. a mental image: a clear picture of how he had looked that day.
4. a particular image or reality as portrayed in an account or description; depiction; version.

I define a picture as a single instance. A moment. Less than a moment, for that matter of a time or a place or a thing or a person that touches your soul. It sticks with you throughout your lifetime, and that you remember every aspect of the moment.

I have tried to take pictures of the kids that portray them the way that I see them. I am rarely successful. I have tried to capture images such as flowers, birds, or sunsets that, in that moment, are breathtakingly beautiful, but no matter how many angles I use, no matter how many times I change the settings on the camera, it NEVER captures the moment like I see it or feel it.

I have images of memories in my head. For instance, I remember the way my summer camp counselor looked as I said good-bye. I remember the way the steam would come out of the smoke stacks of the electrical plant in my hometown. I remember the way that my daughter looked when she was born. These are things that I will always remember, but a picture would NEVER duplicate the exact memory that I have. Yes, it would help remind me of those things, but it would never be the same.

Pictures have been known to completely replace words.

For example: A smiley face. A smiley face automatically tells you that whatever the situation is, it is a good thing. Happy. Content. Good. A smiley face gives you the feeling that everything is or is going to be all right. A child in 2nd grade can get a smiley face sticker on a test because they received a good grade. But then, sometimes, it can be placed on a t-shirt and worn by a teenager who may or may not be smiling at all. Sometimes it is altered to give the person a little bit more of an idea of what the expression means such as sarcasm or silliness.

There are several ways that this blog could go from here, but I'm trying to minimize my blabbing. I look around my office and see pictures of my family and friends. In recent years, I have realized that my family is priority number one. I used to be so focused on work and school. Yes, being successful at work and finishing school have been a vital part of our family's success, but there comes a time when leaving work at work is crucial.

I look up from my computer screen to my picture wall. There are pictures of the kids (of course, they are the best of the best pictures). I pick the pictures that I feel capture the kids the best to put in my office. Naturally, they never truly meet my expectations, but they are close. There is one of Sammy that just kills me. Rusty is pushing Sam in the swing. You can see Rusty's smile as he pushes Sam, and the close up of Sam has him grinning from ear to ear. This is my boy. He is constantly smiling (even when he is eating...he eats ALL THE TIME). The picture successfully captured Sammy's smile, but it didn't capture all of the other emotions that go along with that day. What you can't see is that he is chuckling as he goes back towards Rusty and cackling as he comes towards the camera. You can't feel the breeze of that cool fall day. You can't smell nature.

There are pictures that Joey (my nephew) took last weekend of him and the kids. Sam and Rachel just love Joey. I think that it took Sammy nearly a year to even LOOK at Joey without crying (we think that it was his goatee), but now, it seems that Joey is his favorite more often than not. A picture is worth a thousand words, so they say. I think it should be more than that. I completely understand that its a "phrase", but c'mon. Just describing the events that lead up to the actual picture's outcome would take more than a thousand words all on its own. In these pictures that were taken with the kids and Joey, it looks like they are just playing around, being silly...which, don't get me wrong, they were. But, what you don't see is Joey's aggravation because this was about the 10th time of taking the picture to get it "just right". You also don't see that my house is a complete mess, nor do you see that Rachel and Beth are sitting idly by, waiting for their turn to have pictures taken.

What I don't get is why people put incriminating pictures of themselves on the Internet. For some reason, I guess, they don't understand that people are always watching you whether it be a potential employer, an incorrigible teenager, or a stalker. Society these days is not safe. I guess I kind of contradict myself with this statement as here I am on the Internet. Oh well, we all can't live in a shell and depend on a single picture to tell our story or the story of the world around us.

The one thing that we CAN depend on? Even though our pictures don't exactly catch the images that we feel, we can be reminded of that time of our lives and how special they were.