Getting Out of Gear

 

The summer between my Junior and Senior year of college, my third job was at Saginaw Steering Gear, a General Motors plant.

Like my previous two jobs, I think my father arranged it for me somehow. I didn't interview. The first interviews I remember was trying to secure a teaching job after I graduated from the University of Michigan. I know. Networking? Probably, on my Dad's part. White Privilege? Not sure. My Dad was definitely white, connecting with white employers. My hard work in promoting myself and seeking a job? Hell, no.

The picture above is one I found on the interwebs. I don't remember if this is the Saginaw plant from the 70s, if it looked exactly like that, but I think it is generically correct.

I remember the parking lot. It was vast. A lot of people worked there. Some in my generation assumed that they would work there, just as their fathers and/or other family members or friends did. But that proved to be elusive. The auto industry was soon in decline in our area.  

Once again, like my work at the pickle factory, it was a night shift job. I was a "floater." I filled in for different workers who were taking their vacations. This meant that every week I was doing something different. Some I did okay. Some I was awful.

Most of the jobs consisted of taking parts from one operation to another. Much of what happened was automated, and I guess we were doing what the machines could not do yet. Most of the jobs were very routine and boring.  

There was often significant downtime between cycles of the machine processes. During these significant gaps, I noticed that some workers were reading. Well, you don't have to tell me twice about finding an opportunity to read. So I brought a paperback and started to fill in the time with my first love.

That was the wrong thing to do. The supervisor called me and blessed me out for reading on the job. I can't remember whether I brought up that others were doing it. There must have been a difference between a full-time unionized employee and a college fill-in like myself.

Not everyone gets to live out a true situation comedy legendary moment. But I did.

One day they decided to let me work on a conveyor line where I was supposed to do something to these small parts that came whizzing down the line.

Within minutes it became clear I could not keep up. And, unfortunately, I could not eat what was coming down the line like Lucy did.

I rendered almost the entire plant to a standstill in less than half an hour.

It wasn't funny. It was terrifying. And it did nothing to enhance my popularity at the plant.

When the summer was over, I was again called into the supervisor's office. He told me that my career there was over and that I would never work at a General Motors plant again.

My first job, Dixie Tool, ended in a meh. My second job, Vlasic Pickles, ended with them wanting me to come back and be in management.

Sad to say, the way the Saginaw Steering Gear job ended became more the norm rather than the exception.

It's hard for me to tell for sure, but I think Saginaw Steering Gear closed, maybe in 2001? Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find clear Googled information about it.  

I did make good money there, probably four times as much per hour as I had made at the pickle factory. I made enough to buy my first car, one I could use at college to get back and forth from my student teaching assignment. It was a 1976 (or 77) Honda Civic, and it cost a whopping $3300. And yes, friends, that was a NEW car!

That's just a picture of a 1977 Honda Civic. It's something I found on the interwebs. All I remember is that it was blue. I like blue. What am  I driving today? A 2012 gray Honda Civic. I can't always get blue, I guess.

That completes my memories of my third job. But, as usual, memory is a tricky thing, and I'm sure others will not hesitate to correct me where those memories go astray.