How working at a factory taught me to be a better storyteller.
Hint: it was boring.
“I have dared to do strange things—bold things.” —Emily Dickinson
I have done boring things.
Technology is designed, according to the tech evangelists, to replace manual tasks and support the human race to evolve (how, I’ve never heard a solid answer to, but most promise more free time). It seems specifically designed to eliminate jobs such as the one I had when I was a young adult at a uniform factory.
It was tedious work, and it caused my arms to ache. But it did give me well-defined biceps.
My biceps are no longer so well-defined; that result was temporary. But the experience had lasting effects. I can’t argue that I accomplished any semblance of greatness in my position on the line, rerouting heavy uniforms that came down the line on sturdy hangers. But that job gave me just enough structure and just enough mental freedom to begin to dream.
I feel like we’re never bored now, and I wonder if this inhibits our ability to drift off into a dreamy state. Not a meditative state but one that is truly indulgent of mind wandering and imagination.
Because I was so bored so often in my factory work, I found myself indulging in a bit of magical thinking. The sort that can be quite productive if well-routed itself. I began to think of the stories of my co-workers, and I learned how incredibly rewarding a sandwich break could be.
I also learned how to measure and make games/challenges of my situation. In other words, I learned how to both creatively problem solve and develop creative resilience. I entertained myself, and in so doing, I rekindled a passion for story that had been dormant.
Had I not had that insanely boring job, I might not be writing here. Is the world better or worse for it? Who knows. But writing has helped me to grow, connect, and keep going. So when tedium sneaks into my life now (lines, waiting on hold, trying to get an AI support system to understand me as I pay a bill online, sitting in long meetings about mission statements, etc.), I take it as an opportunity. A challenge.
Where are the stories here?
And they’re always there. It’s when we’re constantly entertained that they seem most elusive. At least for me.
Note: to read the essay, which was a finalist for the Gordon Square Review contest judged by Hanif Abdurraqib, go here.
By the way, friends, I’m hosting an ongoing Adult Writers Studio workshop in partnership with Thurber House, which begins in September. If you’re interested, go here, click register, then scroll to the bottom. This will be on Wednesday evenings on Zoom. I led the summer sessions, and the group synergy and output was beyond inspiring.
"Had I not had that insanely boring job, I might not be writing here." I love this line! Thank you for sharing this, as this counterintuitive result worked 💪