Our wheels have been rolling much faster than we’re used to.

In less than two weeks we went through Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri and Arkansas and didn’t see much other than a few small farm towns and more conservative Christian billboards than people.

Our rig is now parked at Hill Shade RV Park in Gonzales, Texas where we’ll be here workamping until mid-December. More about that later . . . but now:

The Road to Amazon is Now Paved with Gold?

This time of year always brings me back to my not-so-glorious days of working as a seasonal workamper at Amazon.com’s Fernley, Nevada warehhouse.

In fact, I keep receiving automated calls from the mis-named “Integrity” Personnel staffing agency that finds Amazon’s temporary workers in Nevada. The messages hype the lucrative pay and rewards that never materialized when I was there.

Funny thing is . . . maybe they’re telling the truth this time!

New Times at Amazon

Recently I bumped into Amazon’s main workamper hiring representative, the “Camper Force Coordinator” who attends RV shows and gatherings like the Workamper Rendezvous, touting the benefits of working at Amazon and hiring people on the spot.

This man isn’t a stranger to working the lowest rungs on the ladder at Amazon. He’s a retired firefighter who toiled at Amazon’s Kansas location before being hired as a seasonal recruiter when Amazon started managing the workamping program directly instead of relying on staffing agencies to do so. This recruiter is so nice that I hesitated to tell him about my crappy Fernley experience.

However I didn’t need to be shy: he knew all about the lousy way that the Nevada staffing agency managed seasonal workers like me, and he’s been working with Amazon to make every location a better place for workampers.

So it wasn’t just me! I wasn’t crazy for thinking that the agency treated everyone like dog-doo. I LOVE being vindicated!

The Camper Force Recruiter told me “I want to make sure that seasonal campers have a good experience and want to come back and tell their friends about it.”

Now that Amazon oversees temporary workampers, the benefits are greater than ever. Everyone gets a completion bonus, all campground fees are covered (they weren’t in Nevada), the pay is higher and every worker gets a 10 percent discount on Amazon purchases!

Amazon is also better managing the amount of workers they hire so that the promised overtime that never materialized for me is now occurring for workers at each warehouse. We talked to one Amazon elf this week who is already getting overtime in Nevada.

The Camper Force Coordinator made being a minion sound so appealing, he almost swayed me into applying. If I didn’t have other business ventures happening right now, I might’ve done it.

But then again, who am I kidding?

All Aboard the S.S. Independence!

The most valuable aspect of working as a minion was reacquainting myself with punching a clock.

I had forgotten what it was like to be told how to do my work and even when I could have lunch. Call it a bad attitude or whatever, but that’s just not my style.

As bad as it was working at Amazon’s Fernley location in 2009, I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.

Why? Because it reminded me that . . .

I’d rather be the captain of my own dingy than a junior officer on the Titanic!  (Dr. James Chan)

If you’re working at Amazon this season, what’s your experience like so far?

Our rig has been parked on the streets of L.A. for the last few weeks, while we catch up on the chisme with family and friends. Life here is as hectic and noisy as it gets, and every day Jim and I are reminded of why we chose to leave urban living behind.

We started 2009 with one goal; find Jerry’s Acres. Seven months into it, we did. Our Colorado retreat now sits underneath several feet of snow, waiting for our return.

With that behind us, we’re getting the other big part of our life in order, namely, making a real income again.

Our defnition of “real income” is different from most people’s. While we would love to be able to spend money on the finer things in life (like picking up a $20 bottle of wine instead of our old standard, Two Buck Chuck), we also aren’t willing to surrender our freedom in order to do so. My very short gig at Satan’s Castle was a good reminder about that.

People wonder, what do we do. How do we make any money? Well, we don’t do any one particular thing anymore. We don’t want to have one business again. And we don’t want to rely on one job to bring in money. We believe that putting all of your eggs in one basket is risky business, much moreso than varying your skills and finding multiple ways to generate income.

For us now, tiny bits of money trickle in from various web-based outlets that utilize our technical, design and writing skills. In 2010, we’ll work on building up our income revenue streams in these areas.

The money is iffy, the hours are long and uncertainty always looms over our heads, but we are much happier than we ever were in our previous lives. While we are still officially in the red and dipping into savings, I know that 2010 will be the year we are back in black, finally. It would be great if we could actually contribute to our retirement accounts once more. When that happens, I’ll know that we’ve truly been successful these last two and a half years.

On that note, I’ll say “Adios!” to 2009, and give 2010 a great big welcome. May this year bring the prosperity, joy and peace that we all need more of in our lives.

And many thanks to all of you for being a part of our world. Life would be pretty boring without you!

It wasn’t the work that did me in. It was the fact that I cannot be part of an organization that does not value the Individual.

From high school to my first office job at an insurance company, large impersonal institutions and I just never got along. Had I remembered this before I decided to work at Satan’s Castle, I could have spared myself some grief (and been in a warmer climate by now).

Last week we were supposed to start 12 hour shifts, but instead, almost every day, we got sent home after just a few hours of work. “The volume isn’t there,” said the outbound shipping department manager. Soon it became clear that the long hours and overtime Satan used as bait wasn’t going to materialize. His cheerleaders have been hitting the airwaves on NPR and CNBC, yet things have been very, very slow for us here at the Nevada warehouse.

With each shift cut short, I wondered if I was going to be able to cover the cost of December’s rent at the RV park. My patience was wearing thin.

Even more frustrating was that I just learned via Workamper that the lower-paid cogs in Kansas are getting more hours than we are. My theory is that Satan is cutting costs by shifting the bulk of the work to locations that pay less.

The Final Ingredients

Sunday morning, one of Satan’s minions walked up to me with a clipboard in hand. She was one of the nicer ones, who actually tried to remember workers’ names. The first thing she said when she saw me was “Rene, you’re going to hate me.”

She put her clipboard on my workstation, and showed me a warning notice that said I wasn’t “making the numbers,” one week into another outbound shipping job I was put on. The warning was based on the volume I processed, just two days into the new job.

I was stunned, because the Agency’s rules state that we have four weeks to get numbers up to that level. Yeah, I knew I was slow during my first few days, but for the last three days, I had consistently “made the numbers.” I couldn’t understand why I was getting a warning based on week-old volume.

The notice stated it was a “Final Warning,” but this was technically my second, because I had been kicked out of my first job for not being a “team player.” Every employee is supposed to receive three warnings before getting fired.

As a final insult, my name was misspelled on the warning.

Satan’s Minion was asking for my signature to acknowledge the warning. But I didn’t, and instead I said to her “They’re full of crap. This is only my second warning, and I was told I have four weeks to get to that production level. Why aren’t they following their own rules?”

The Minion got a distressed look on her face, and then out of nowhere, she started crying.

“I’m so sorry Rene! I hate this job! This is all I do all day long, and I only get fifty cents an hour more than you do! Yesterday I had to fire a 70 year old lady with Parkinson’s because she couldn’t make the numbers. They’re having me fire people after just a few days into training. This place is horrible! I just put in my two week notice because I can’t take it anymore!”

She stood there crying, while I looked on, stunned. She was very pregnant, and said she really needed the money, but she just couldn’t work for a place that treated people like crap.

I felt badly for her, but I was going to stand my ground.

I refused to sign it. I told her “I’m sorry, but I want them to tell me why this is a ‘Final Warning,’ and why I’m being expected to meet Week Four quotas. They’re ignoring their own rules. I won’t sign it, I can’t.”

She agreed it was wrong, and she said she would look into it, but couldn’t promise anything. Then she left, and five minutes later, another minion came by to announce that we all had to go home, two hours into our shift. There wasn’t enough work. “Come back tomorrow,” she yelled to us.

What’s It Worth?

As I clocked out and walked through the metal detector exit, my head was spinning. Could I stand working there for just four more weeks? Could I live with the uncertainty of the hours I was getting, or of being fired any minute without just cause? What if all this agony doesn’t even cover the $400 in rent I had just paid for December?

On my way home, I remembered that the RV park owner had said that if things didn’t work out during the first four days of the month, she would refund the rent and charge me a daily rate. That’s when I knew what I had to do.

I pulled into the park and stopped at the office. I asked the manager if I could take her up on that offer. Thankfully, she did.

I went to the rig, and told Jim what happened.

I won’t work for a company that relies on fear tactics and bullying. Maybe some people can tolerate that kind of environment, but I won’t. I have my self-respect, and cash-crunch or not, know I am worthy of better treatment. Life is too short.

Then I picked up the phone, and made my stand. I called Satan’s Agency to tell them I quit.

Jim is thrilled, and now I feel like a huge anvil has been lifted off my head.

Looking back, I realize that I took this job because I was letting fear rule my life. Almost three years into our sabbatical, our dwindling savings account is telling me that we have to get serious about making money. But instead of buckling down and earnestly working to make our new business venture happen, I opted for what I thought was the quick and easy way out; the false sense of security one gets with a paycheck. What a sham.

Instead of following our dream, I took the paved road to hell, and paid dearly for it.

Well, it’s time for that whole Black Friday and Cyber Monday weekend business that’s been keeping the local newspapers fat for the past few weeks. And while on a run with Wyatt around 8:00 a.m. this morning, I noticed one good consumer couple already unloading various stuffed shopping bags from their car. They must have heard, the economy has recovered! But don’t they know there are deals to be had online…

I’m not exactly sure what such a negative connotation as Black Friday has to do with a great day for shopping. But it was certainly dark when Rene climbed on her bike and headed off in the freezing cold this morning to begin her overtime hours at Amazon. And while Wyatt is a handful, the rig is certainly lonely without her.

As long as she gets all those hours the Great Satan has promised her, our stay in Fernley might be worthwhile, and just maybe we’ll be able to afford running the furnace every morning for the next month. So don’t forget … if you plan on shopping online this year, please start here.

And if you’d rather not contribute to the evil Empire, consider this…

Or this…

And don’t forget Fido and Fluffy…

Or those outdoorsy folks on your list…

Or if you’re looking for something bit different for that someone special…

Thank you for your continued support.

First off, my apologies to anyone who is put off by the last few posts I’ve written. Yes, I know I’ve taken on a negative tone, but this blog been one of my main outlets after being treated like a subhuman at Satan’s Castle. Sorry to be a downer, I’m not usually like this. When this gig is over at Christmas, we’ll be back on the road traveling around, and living the Dream part we enjoy so much more.

This Friday, Black Friday, I start 12 hour shifts. This is where the money is, this is why I’m here, and I’m not going to have the energy to write. So you’ll be hearing more from Jim and less from me, except maybe my occasional reports about silly and suprising items I see coming down the conveyor belt. Like these. . . .

Jobs are scarce everywhere you go, and we are all thankful for whatever we can earn right now. But it’s a sad commentary on America’s standard of living, when so many of the working poor I’ve talked to consider Satan’s pay rate to be pretty good ($11.50/hr).

I’m not sure why, because when I look back at the the last 20 years of my working life, I see that in real wages I’m actually earning way less than I was back in the late ’80s.

In 1988, I worked at a mannequin factory, painting faces in the art department. I was paid $8.00/hr. Then, in 1989 – 1991, I made roughly $16.00/hr putting myself through college while working for an insurance company. I thought my standard of living would only go up from there, but when I finally got my degree in ’92, jobs were scarce. So I became a coffee barista and waited tables, and made around $9.00/hr plus tips. I was barely  able to survive on that in San Francisco, but I did.

Seventeen years later, this job is paying me slightly over what I made in ’92, yet that wage is supposed to be considered good? How can that be? Certainly I’m not paying the same for food, fuel, etc., that I was back then. I’m just banking on the overtime that’s supposed to kick in this week after Black Friday, which is why I took this gig.

As the cost of living climbs, real wages keep sinking for those at the bottom. I’m so outraged that there is such a ridiculous, embarrasing disparity in this country between the rich and working poor (which, if you’re not already, you could be, very easily). Meanwhile, the Wall Street billionaires keep making obscene profits, and taking our tax money to bail their companies out. Can’t you hear them laughing?

It can always be worse. Brain asked René…

What is Jim doing while you work for Satan?

As René answered, I am fortunate enough to be self employed with a full time job of maintaining the online endeavors of Agreda Communications. You see, the Tripawds Blogs Community has grown to consume most of our time. But while we do this out of passion and support for the more than 1,000 members, it really doesn’t make us any money to speak of. Hence the focus on running the endeavors.

Between attempts to tame the beast and battle spam blog registrations, I spend my day moderating forums, processing harness orders, developing content for promotional blogs, troubleshooting technical difficulties, managing member blogs, and playing host in our live Tripawds chat room. Oh, and I do this while playing Mr. Mom by keeping house and preparing meals, and feeding the beast.

But don’t get me wrong, Wyatt has come a long way and is actually showing signs he might actually show us some respect someday. And it could be a lot worse.

Instead of taking three long walks a day and sitting on my butt for hours on end staring at my Mac, I could be busting my ass like René, or worse yet dancing on some street corner hawking the liquidated assets of yet another discount furniture warehouse. Which I would gladly do if it came to that.

Though if it ever did come to that, I think I’d rather head back to our house and focus a little harder on these endeavors of ours. Talk to me come tax time.

Overheard in the LiveWorkDream rig recently:

“I’ve always told myself I would do whatever it takes to stay out of debt. Now I know I can.”

Or something like that. Nevertheless, I concur.

Let’s get one thing straight; I am not afraid of hard work. In past lives I’ve been a waitress, a housekeeper, a barista, and even worked in a data-entry sweat shop. When I was a kid I cleaned my neighbor’s house, washed cars and sold avocados in the neighborhood, just to make extra money.

So when I took this job at the factory of the Great Satan*, I knew the work was going to be hard. And it has. Still, I really don’t mind the fact that this job involves working Lucy-style (sans cute uniforms) on a conveyor belt line, moving huge bins of cheap plastic crap around with my arms and pallet jacks. Every day is a physical wipeout, but I still ride my bike to work to energize me in the morning, and burn off steam at night.

But what’s really pissing me off about this gig is the lousy way the workers get treated by the temp agency that runs the show for Satan (in fact, almost everyone who works at the factory is a temp; Satan outsources just about every job). We are talked down to, lied to, given no consideration or respect whatsoever. Everyone lives in fear of individual job production quotas, and management reminds you on the hour if you’re meeting them or not.

In the early 90s when jobs were scarce, I played “The Temp” in offices around San Francisco. Back then, I thought I was treated like crap. But this recession is so much worse, and it seems that with so many out of work people, temp agencies are exploiting the situation like never before. At least this one is. I can’t ever recall being treated with such disrespect by an employer.

I keep telling myself; stick it out, this gig is only temporary. I thank Dog I have the resources to move on after 12/23.

*About “the Great Satan” . . . apparently I signed a Non Disclosure Agreement that bans me from badmouthing this certain company. Well, I’m not sure if I signed or not, there were so many forms when I got hired, so to play it safe, from here on out my new boss is going to be known as The Great Satan.

Working at The Great Satan for the past two days has given me a front row view of our economy. As a self-employed person without any co-workers, or mouths to feed, I’ve been so isolated from the realities of what people are faced with right now. It’s scary. People. Are. Hurting.

I work with a Mom who puts in a full day at the Great Satan, then walks over to HellMart to work, because she can’t feed her family on HellMart’s generous $8.25 an hour. Another woman I work with is an EMT in real life. A guy in my department took the job despite a 30 mile commute, because the hardware store he used to work for laid him off. Another gal I spoke with has been out of work since April of ’08, after getting laid off from CitiBank. There are people so overqualified for this work, it’s insane. I feel so humbled and fortunate to be there by choice.

Meanwhile, management plays shuffeboard with the worker bees’ lives. The group I was hired in with got our hours changed, and our job roles too. They told us on our first day; we could live with it, or leave. There’s a thousand more behind us.

Everyone is calling this a recession, but this is more like a depression. I look around that warehouse, and so many people appear exhausted.

As I stood there doing my job today, I saw thousands of expensive gadgets and gizmos pass before me. With each new order, I kept wondering; who’s buying this stuff?