A Progressive Thought On The Humanity Of Production

At work a couple days ago, I was paging through one of my company’s product catalogs, familiarizing myself with the product lines, as I’m the New Kid on The Block. (I won’t be touring with the Backstreet Boys this summer though.) Near the back quarter of the PDF were assorted, specialized products, which is where I saw the set of tiny stairs. Not regular, for-human-use stairs, but the kind for tiny, old or post-surgery pets.

Lulz. Now I Haz Access.

Upon seeing this, I got the warm and fuzzies and started grinning like a moron. Before I continue, I’d like to preface this part by saying I love animals. More than I love most humans, to be honest. I’ll run across traffic if I see an awesome dog being walked on the other side of the street. Any burden is worth being placed on fellow man for the chance to pet a big sweetie. So when I saw these pet stairs, in my own mind I thought, “Helping creatures great and small! Huzzah!” and imagined two sets of tiny stairs at either end of a couch, with an unending stream of dogs walking up one end, across the couch, and down the other. With trumpets playing. And for any of you who think pet stairs are silly, you’ve never seen a dog or cat painfully deliberate whether or not to jump onto a couch or in a car they used to fly into at 200 mph. It’s the saddest thing ever. But what isn't sad is a dog couch-walking parade. That's the best.

Unfortunately, right after I thought how wonderful it is that I'm working somewhere that makes these things, I thought about how nice they would have been for my dog when she was sick, back when we had to pick her up to put in the back of cars and the like. Not an easy task when she was an 85 pound rottweiler, and I can’t imagine it was much fun for her either. Being the man-baby I occasionally am, I had to forcefully snap out of it before I got all misty-eyed at my desk. A great impression that would have been, needing to excuse myself because a set of polystyrene  steps got me all worked up. Great Job!

The idea that experience left me ruminating upon is that products, items, things - stuff we haven’t even possessed, have the power to change our mood and conjure memories and emotions we can’t predict. And it only makes sense that the things we DO own have a greater personal tie to us, making them even more capable of stirring our feelings. Everything that enters into the marketplace has an opportunity to go into a home. And from there, it has the chance to engrain itself to a person forever.

So where did all that Progressive Thought lead me? It made me realize that it’s a very good thing that we have no idea where the things we make will end up or what they’ll do. Because we wouldn’t get anything done. EVER.

Fly Ricky The Wine Taster.

How could workers produce a stuffed animal, knowing it’ll be the toy a child is inseparable from, and ultimately becomes the symbol of their un-ironically joyful youth? Or haberdash (MADE-UP VERB) the hat your father would frisbee-toss onto coat rack every night when he came home before greeting you with a big hug and a smile? Or mold the rubber Elvis hair that would be worn atop the head of Kool Keith for his Black Elvis In Space album? It would be a staggering responsibility that people simply could not handle hour after hour, day in day out, knowing the importance of their actions. Real raw.

And on the other side, how could someone sew together a dress, knowing it’s being bought for the burial of a loved sister, mother or friend? Or ferment the bottle of alcohol someone drank before they got behind the wheel of a car? Or print the stamp being used to mail divorce papers? It would produce a constant, crushing sadness throughout the entire production process, until you were able to begin a new project, which would take you on another unpredictable roller coaster, for better or worse.

It would be like listening to and watching the most intensely emotional parts of songs and movies, unrelentingly, eight hours a day. Luckily, none of this is possible, so I shouldn’t worry or concern myself until Bizarro World is officially discovered. At that point, bets are off. Rather, it’s just interesting to think of the innumerable diverging journeys the things around us take through their own lifetimes, with or without is. All this from a set of foam stairs. Go figure.

But hey, at least it was a great excuse to look at my favorite picture of my dog, Harley Bocifius. : )

Dog Cookie Drive-Thru!