What’s it like to work at an Amazon Prime Warehouse? It’s pretty shocking (but not surprising).
By: Jared Kessler
Tags: Amazon Prime, Amazon Echo, Amazon Web Services, Amazon, Amazon Prime Services

Photo by Werzk Luuu

It was almost 9pm on a Friday night. I was taking off the black, cushioned jumpsuit-like protective gear that was supposed to keep me warm in a -1 to 7 degree freezer, where the last half an hour I was doing “removals.”

Which meant?

I typed in a special code on my scanner that told me what bins I needed to go to, and remove past-due freezer items to put in a big, yellow bin and donate.

I know it was only -1 to 7 degrees because as I was sitting down on the bench, outside of the freezer, I was talking to another coworker that’s probably been there as long as I have, as to how cold my fingers were about 10 minutes in. That I felt like it got colder, and, even though I wore “special” clothing, shoes and stuffed two paper-like heated packs to keep my fingers warm inside of these big, bulky gloves, it still wasn’t enough to really sustain any comfort past 10 minutes inside.

But, I was told, they needed it done.

It’s not like there’s any disagreement to doing it I could make. Or there would be any better options — even thought it was toward the end of my 5-hour shift that often feels like it’s 4 hours too long.

I try to keep positive, though.

I try to tell myself that things will get better and the pain in my knee will subside, from a constant and never-ending bending down and lifting virtually every size and weight object you can think of, because I took tomorrow and the next day off. That, out of the 100 other jobs I’ve applied for since January of 2020, things will eventually get better. And recruiters wont see me as being either under-qualified or overqualified for practically every job I’ve ever applied for since the beginning of this year.

But I’m 46. Divorced. Have no family of my own, dogs or kids to look after me. And to be quite honest…

After I decided I needed to get out of the advertising and marketing world, as a former agency copywriter of 10 years, the future looked bleak.

No, this isn’t a sob story.

No it’s not a “dude are you alright” story.

It’s a story about what was going on, for me, working at the Amazon Prime Warehouse this past year — where I didn’t think I‘d work for as long as I had been, what I’ve been struggling with, and what I’ve been dealing with this past year and feel the need to write about and get off of my chest.

Where I’m at a place in my life that I don’t mind working, but not in a place that doesn’t value you or the things you bring to the table. A place where there’s no growth, you can only work a 5-hour or 10-hour shift. Are being measured and looked at only off of your numbers. Only off of how fast you can do something. Where, even if you do “make your numbers” the only reward for a job well done, is that… congratulations… you get to keep your job, that if it was a hamburger, would feel “well done.”

So, after a 5-hour shift, at Amazon, I unwind.

I lick my 46-year old wounds and vascillate between the pain of what feels like constant and never-ending rejection over applying for new jobs (and careers) that sounds great, but have no control over getting… and between working a warehouse job, at Amazon Prime, for $15/hour that I can’t physically and mentally take anymore than 20–30 hours of each week.

A job that doesn’t pay all of my bare-minimum expenses. Where I have to take anywhere between $1000-$2000 out of my savings to live and pay my rent and put food on the table (that I’m thankful I at least have, but feel the pain of having to use it to live, instead of for one-day buying an actual home of my own).

But don’t get me wrong. There are some positives to working at the Amazon Prime Warehouse.

But it’s not really with the job. Or with the company and lack of any real benefits I get. It’s with the people who actually work there.

Some who travel on the bus, an hour one way, just to do the job. Some, who do it, as a single parent, to support their kid. Some who need the extra money. And some, like me, who you wonder “how the eff did I ever get here?”

But listen, this is just one of many stories that we support (or don’t support) by purchasing something off of Amazon every time we decide we need or want something. Where every time we press the “buy now” button we’re supporting an organization that doesn’t care about the people who work there, only that they do the job they were hired to do. Nothing more, but something less — giving money to a multi-billionaire that isn’t passing the company’s earnings on to his employees, only to line his pockets…

Or at least, that’s what it felt like, looking back, after a grueling year of working there. Without any benefits. Comparing the kind of work (and pay) that I have now, versus what I had there.

A place that won’t further strengthen our neighborhood or community. But instead, is further tearing it (and the people who work there) apart. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Just because we all want something cheaper. Faster. But not better… for ANYONE…

Other than Amazon.

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About

Jared Kessler, is a Portland-based writer and photographer who loves taking pictures and telling stories.