How I worked at the Vinno-Vodny Plant

The reader of Samizdat decided to earn extra money to study in the "bread" place of Nizhny Novgorod and discovered the wonderful world of the modern proletariat. A bottle, conveyor, a bottle again. And also the boss-machine-gun, stolen vodka and robots, who will survive everyone, we tell how to make a whole turn around the vodka-barrel line in a day and what the average-Russian wine and vodka plant lives.

The same story is a section that transforms our readers into authors. You can also tell your story to our editor Kostya Valyakin .

When the teachers repeated: “Get ready better, otherwise you will go to work at the factory,” I, like everyone else, rolled my eyes. We knew that money and success were waiting for us, we expected that we would be lawyers, economists and journalists. I wrote articles, won the competitions and believed in my future. And then she handed over the exam not for maximum points, could not go where she wanted and found herself with a student ID in the correspondence department of the frighteningly meaningless specialty of the second -rate St. Petersburg university.

Studying on a “Uzochka” - these are several sessions per year, during which you come to the university, listen to lectures and hand over the tests. The university did not provide the hostel to visitors, and I had nowhere to live. Therefore, after the first session in September, I had to return to Nizhny Novgorod to earn on the next trip in two months.

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While I was busy studying, a large New Year's order was received at the wine and vodka plant at which my mother worked. The authorities urgently searched for additional hands. The conditions were suitable: two months under an official agreement, a worthy salary, proletarian adventures. I was fueled by curiosity and research interest: it seemed that now I would take a bold step on the verge of an adventure, moreover, the plant was considered a “gold residential” because there were 27,500 rubles decent for our city. I agreed.

Probably, to work at the factory, I was destined for fate. My small homeland is the capital of factories; If you think about it, they surrounded me since childhood. Once during the summer holidays, I twisted shoe covers in a hospital with thousands with a large enterprise. In different years of life, my parents worked in different factories, from beer to automobile. In the school camps, the main components of the cultural and entertainment program were excursions to factories. If we went to the confectionery, then it was allowed to take sweets directly from the assembly line. Then I still did not understand why the aunts, who were surrounded by a shocking marshmallow, are sitting with such sad faces. At the Coca-Cola factory, small bottles of soda were handed out to us, and at the Fir-Human Railway Factory we painted balls with paints. Yes, even in the name of the area where I live, there is the word "factory", and in order to get to it from the city center, you need to go for a long time along the concrete slabs that protect another plant. All my yard acquaintances were connected with the wine and vodka plant that I settled down, each of the parents worked there at least once, and who did not work for, he sees his huge iron gates from the window every day.

Where does the vodka come from

At half past eight in the morning, grabbing a special forces, which a few months ago was a school uniform for physical education, I moved towards the plant. The company was on the outskirts, then-the usual filling of the city outskirts: a river-grunt and a forest belt, into which barbecue come to fry on holidays.

At the checkpoint, I received a personal number and pass, and then went to the personnel department to apply for a job. It turned out that the form is not intended for those born after 1999. I had to pinch and carefully display the numbers on the yellowish-gray form with a handle to officially take office as a packaging compartment.

They gave me a place in the female locker room on the third floor and even allocated a locker-so the dream “a la American school” came true. Further according to the plan there was a tour of the factory: a huge cold barn-warehouse of the plant, two workshops, conveyors, bottles, labels and, of course, multi-storey pallets (pallets) with vodka. Almost like in the plots of the Galileo program about production, but not so neat.

Around the conveyors crowded aunt from thirty -five to young pensioners. They put bottles in the iron claws of the machine, inserted plugs-lins, glued excise stamps, and finally stuffed the bottles into the boxes. Men here were only in the person of movers, burdened with episodic srack of boxes, and machine guns, who were respected a little more-for sometimes approaching something unknown in the car.

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Each bottle of vodka had to take ten steps. First, the iron claws of the machine took an empty container, washed it from the pipe nipples, poured vodka inside and put it on the conveyor. Then the bottle was manually sealed with a lid, which was later pressed by the press. After that, several employees were put on the bottle of thermal rings - protective polyethylene, which makes it difficult to access the cork. Soon the bottle is inspected whether the label is glued exactly and whether there are chips. Then a very important point came: an excise brand with a personal number was glued to the bottle to track the fate of each bottle. After the bottle, they turned the right side so that the large printer could put the date and time of production in a certain place. Sitting “on the bend” was my first task at a new job: a couple of mechanical movements to turn the bottles and set them for six pieces.

At first it looked absurd simply. It turned out, not the limit: then aunt sat on the conveyor and just stared at whether the bottles pass through the Cicaner, which, along the QR code on the brand, scored a bottle into a single register. The excise taxes were treated very seriously, each bottle was at the expense. Once at this stage I slept and missed one bottle. Because of this, I had to stop the conveyor and open about eighty boxes. After the scanner, the bottles followed the packing - they were put in the box again six pieces and sealed with tape, and then sculpted the sticker with the box number. The product is ready, you can start over.

All that was left to do when only hands are busy is to think. Ideas for abstracts were born in my head. By the fortieth minute of scrolling the bottles in the certain side, I began to stick. Twenty minutes of work through force - and the time has come to transplant. Every sixty minutes, the operations change and people are transplanted in order to make a whole revolution around the vod -console line in a day.

Arriving home, I fell on the bed and lay for several hours - it seemed that the walls were moving exactly at the speed of the conveyor.

How to get rid of extra workers

The work quickly ceased to seem simple. This deceptive ease of twisting of the bottles soon turns into a suffocating severity of daily identical actions, in which only two hands are required from you as a person. But at the same time, elementary humility came. For myself, I have long calculated that only 45 working days, and mentally crossed the next day.

Once, our plant made an expensive super-vip-watering, which had a super-vip-lid made of wood. To make such beauty, the machine dripped a slightly hot glue on an ordinary iron lid, and we put on a wooden cover on top. It was still difficult for me to keep up with the conveyor, and several times I did not hit, receiving hot glue and several blisters in my hand. Of course, when this happened, women-reports decided that everything happened through my fault, because I "sat in an inappropriately leg on the leg."

All production was designed for a single number of people, at each facility they worked in pairs. I turned out to be “superfluous”, an odd employee, and the master, who led the whole process, sometimes moved me from place to place the holes and replace the absent ones.

The deceitful ease of twisting of the bottles turns into a suffocating severity of daily identical actions

So after a couple of weeks I was finally transferred to another workshop. The souvenir product in which I already managed to work, and the finished product, differed significantly. If the first was built on endless and senseless human work - for the sake of the “handwork” for the inscription, then in the second most processes were performed by the car, and therefore much fewer people worked, and the production itself was much more effective. The second workshop constantly ahead of the “souvenir” in the number of bottles made, especially on the eve of the holidays, when the workers from the first reduced the pace so as not to fulfill the plan ahead of time and get all the daily payment.

It soon became clear that all this time somewhere in the workshop with manual work lay a long-purchased machine for automation of production, which each of the "old-timers" was afraid. Women were worried that jobs would disappear and the authorities would deprive their work, but the “robot”, whom everyone was so afraid, stood idle for months: the leadership never found an engineer who would launch him.

In the new place, everything turned out to be much more fun, there were only two operations: to seal the box or insert a cardboard division. Such a simplicity of working duties gave a lot of free time, and my aunt-colleags easily filled him with conversations.

My partner was Baba Tanya, who daily told strange and crazy stories, whose main character was usually her familiar granny with schizophrenia. Each story of Baba Tanya began with the fact that when the conveyor stopped, she sat on a chair, exhaled and started: “I came to this unfortunate yesterday, brought her food, and she -“ Where is the bear? ”Where?” And Mishka, her husband, died a long time ago, she forgot simply. - Baba Tanya for her stories did not really need either the reaction of the listeners or the interlocutor. - Then I begged everything for me a hundred rubles, well, to the little white. I say: I won’t give it, I won’t give it - that's all. In the evening I go to Magnit, and the cashier tells me that my grandmother, it turns out, which time is caught when she tries to steal vodka. That's what to do with her? "

Each time, Baba Tanya raised different, but equally unexpected topics: how to bury a grandmother, is it possible to abandon the autopsy, what kind of prayer exists so that relatives go from hell to heaven. Once, Baba Tanya unleashed an hourly discussion about whether the apple tree should fertilize with manure. Her speeches were listened even by silent movers, usually sadly sitting on both sides of the conveyor, like a griffin. Why, by the way, Tanya was called “Baba” was not very clear: she was still far from the status of her grandmother, she, apparently, had no grandchildren, but something was an elusively old woman in her.

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The rest of the workers were strange in the framework of reasonable. This, for example, is aunt, who, as if by a call, once per hour, at the same time, checked the electronic diary of her daughter, sometimes asking me how to solve this fourth grade problem in mathematics. And the girl, who for some reason told everyone that I had recently fallen in the workshop, almost broke my front teeth, and that the boss scolded me because I did not greet him. There was none of this, her act remains a mystery to me.

For a week, the plant was transferred to two shifts, Baba Tanya went to entertain those who worked until eight in the evening, and two friends became my partners. One of them was silent and, as it turned out, secretly merged vodka. When it was opened, she was immediately fired, despite the experience of twenty years. The whole team was indignant for several days: since everyone is stealing, then why so on one person to break away?

The second girlfriend constantly asked questions that the crossword puzzled right during work, moreover, childish. At eight in the morning, as soon as the conveyor was launched, she immediately began to exhaust others: “What is the name of this song of the scarecrow:“ Kings, all kings can ”? Lenok, what did you take for lunch today? And what if I have constantly when I eat buckwheat, she gets stuck in my throat? Calculate me, how much does it remain before retirement? "

She also often shared the facts of her biography: “Yesterday I sat so successfully on the forty bus, already in six houses. She lay down only at eight, ate, ate, the solitaires were amended, already tired. And what else to do? I went to sleep. And I, you know, did not work anywhere until thirty -two years. I remember that in the evenings we went to Lyadov, there was such a casino, as I remember now, and here we met. ”

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Colleagues treated me well, albeit with a certain share of pity. As soon as I ran into someone in the corridor, then after the greetings it immediately sounded: "Well, do not worry, they will soon fire you." But I was still embarrassed. Mom did not lag behind, who reminded that it was necessary to work well and not to disgrace her. Even in the early days, I met my mother’s mother, who also worked at the factory. Her daughter had better turned out to be better: she entered somewhere in a lawyer, studied in college at full-time, while I was burned with glue and listened to stories. Greeting with a woman, I constantly felt inconvenience.

For a month in production, I noticed that the plant has its own special biorhythms. For example, on Monday, workers go in a circle and show a new manicure that they managed to make on the weekend, it is considered decent to praise him and ask the master’s phone number. On Tuesday, a new Pyaterochka catalog came out - and everyone started to study the brochure in search of profitable offers. On Wednesday, everyone congratulated each other on the Little Friday. On Thursday, people gathered and went to the store together. On Friday, all in the morning we walked a little tipsy, anticipating the weekend, and at the end of the day they said goodbye to the phrase "good weekend, girls."

In this monotony there was the most terrible. It’s hard to wake up in the morning, in the locker room it smells equally heated food every day, the first half of the working day passes, lunch, the second half, the working day ends, and in the interval between the factory and the house it invariably seems that I suddenly have a lot of strength, but no: as soon as I crossed the threshold of the house, all the energy disappeared and the fatigue piled with complete force.

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From the workshop of finished products I was soon transferred. Baba Tanya complained that I was tireless, and because of this she was lonely and needed someone else in a couple. So I got to the “seal”: for eight hours I disassembled boxes with empty bottles and put them on the conveyor. But here they did not hold me for more than a week and sent me to the “pepper”: it was necessary to stand and throw red burning pepper soaked in alcohol into each bottle. Then, for several days I just sat and made bars, inserting cardboard into each other. But once and for all, my favorite operation began to make boxes: only here it was possible to work not at the pace of the machine and alone.

For a month and a half of work, the decision to go to the plant lost all hints of adventure, adventure, interesting experience, which can be impressed. Now from the evening in the evening I liked only lying to watch a movie from the filmography of Hoacin Fenix. There was no strength for friends and communication, and they have brought themselves new comrades at the university. I felt like an outcast.

December came, the street was stably gray and gloomy, about the same inside, when I went once again to work. The days were finally sticking together in weeks, weeks in months, but I could work out about a quarter of the entire term. It seemed that if it were needed more, then I would not stand it, there was nothing left of the bright humility of the first month. From fatigue, my derealization developed, and once I naturally fell asleep at work for a few minutes.

Now most of all I loved to go out into the locker room - under the pretext of going to the toilet and calmly sit in a corner on a chair for several minutes, enjoying silence. Outside the window it was already getting dark, only six red and white pipes of another plant were highlighted.

It is interesting to read

The rest of the time in the locker room was not so quiet and calm. In the morning, women loudly washed down with tea with fat with fat, saying “what a good lard”, then discussed the children and the most profitable purchases in supermarkets. The closer the New Year was, the more actively the clothes and gifts were discussed for children, for a few days the locker room was captured by a dancing leaf toy, many owners of children saw a miracle in Plastmassa moving from batteries. It was in the locker room that it was customary to complain about the husband who beats, the mother -in -law, who is unhappy with everyone, and the rest of the world.

In addition to domestic problems, all these people incredibly united the fear of the authorities in the person of the director. At the moment when he went down from his office, everyone suddenly began to whisper and talk among themselves, passing on which the workshop is now and in a good mood. They were afraid of a tall bald old man not because of his position, but because of his emerging senile insanity. Большую часть рабочего дня он сидел в своём кабинете наверху и вглядывался в мониторы камер наблюдения, но иногда подрывался, бежал вниз и начинал кого-нибудь отчитывать за использование телефона на рабочем месте. А однажды, после очередной пропажи одной из бутылок, директор вдруг обвинил в воровстве и чуть не уволил невиновную сотрудницу, которая тоже проработала на предприятии не один год. К счастью, бутылка потом где-то нашлась — и никто не пострадал.

Кто никогда не вернётся

Мне казалось, что этот день никогда не наступит. Но утром, проснувшись веселее обычного, я встала и к привычному часу вышла на сокращённую смену, отработала полдня и отправилась на заводской корпоратив.

Несколько сдвинутых пластиковых столов, бумажные скатерти, конфеты, мандарины и дешёвое шампанское в комнате для отдыха сотрудников на третьем этаже — вот и вся праздничная атмосфера, но мне всё равно было радостно. Гендиректор вышел перед собравшимися и отрапортовал что-то о выполненной норме — вокруг столов быстро обсудили, что в этом году поздравили «недушевно».

Короткие полчаса поздравлений, шампанского и праздника — и я в последний раз побрела в раздевалку. Забрав из шкафчика вещи и сдав пропуск под номером девяносто девять, я вышла из КПП. Ёлка у входа и табличка «Окский пищевой комбинат» были обвиты светящейся гирляндой — через пару дней Новый год. Я достала из кармана телефон, удалила номер отдела кадров из списка контактов и пошла домой по хрустящему снегу. Так хорошо и легко мне уже давно не было.

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