Status: Tags: Links: Potential Scholarships
Global Lift Scholarship
Guidelines
- Object must be in the company’s list of used equipment
Resources
Plan
- Simp for the company
- Talk about the positive initial first thoughts of the company
- Resemble birth
- Choose a forklift and talk about it’s extensive labor
- Make references to maximum weight capacity and talk about how the company it was being used at was going over it’s limits
- idk is oil change a thing in forklifts?
- Abusive and neglective operators
- Broke mirror one time
- Left in the dust in a storage room
- Eventually, was sold to global lift
- Make references to maximum weight capacity and talk about how the company it was being used at was going over it’s limits
- Introduced to a whole body of forklifts
- Cleaned up, repaired
- Even the previous repair shop didn’t clean it
- Got to share their story and seek comfort in the others
- Felt accepted and welcomed
- Eventually was relocated to work for someone
- Treated it kindly, followed proper procedures, even washed it
- One day they were talking about how it’s hours have been used up, and that it was time to get recycled
- Maybe mention a colleague being sent prior to him
- Talk about in his final years, he was able to find solace and override his traumatic experiences with the good company before being recycled
- While being dismantled, they hope the object created from his parts will live a happy life
Writing
The Life of a 2015 HYUNDAI Model 30BC-9
The drivers were reckless and had no concern over my long-term wellness; everyday, I was constantly forced to lift packages far exceeding my rated capacity of six-thousand pounds, and the unequal balancing of weight made carrying such overweight objects an even bigger burden. Having to endure such cruel conditions had taken a toll on my wheels and tires, and as a result, the repair shop became my second home. I was a neglected slave powerless to their unjust practices. When not under supervision, the operators never hesitated to bash on the frames of my overhead guard or abuse my levers.
Unfortunately, the harrassment didn’t stop there; they would always redirect their frustrations onto me through verbal degradation: “When are we able to replace this worthless piece of junk?”, “Why are we even bothering to perform maintenance on this sorry disgrace of a forklift?”. Their horrific treatment has resulted in scrapes and indents all over me, accompanied by the mental traumas that continue to linger in my mind.
Eventually, after approximately 4,000 hours of dreadful sorrow, I was saved; while helping unload a flatbed truck, I noticed that the contents included another Hyundai forklift like myself, but it was a newer 50B-9 model. Were they planning on replacing me? Will I finally be free from their wrath? I couldn’t tell if I should be grateful for my potential release, or pity for another victim who has to endure the same conditions I had. Later on in the day, I eavesdropped in on a conversation and found out that they were planning to start using the new forklift in 2 days, and that I was going to be retired for good.
Two days have passed, and my time for freedom has come, or so I thought. After my final operating session, they didn’t bother to say good bye or say thanks for all my labor, but I guess it was better than being insulted for the last time. They parked me inside a storage container, and locked me inside. For the first few days, I felt at peace as I finally had some time to relax. It was rather dark and lonely, but I took my newfound environment as a tranquil blessing. After a few days (I think? I had no real indication of time), the solitary confinement began to take a toll on me, and a depressive episode began to override my inner peace.
I wasn’t even able to interact with or get to know my replacement. I don’t even know how long I’ll be kept in here for—will this be all I get to see until my eventual passing? I didn’t want to think about such topics, but they continued to invade my mind, and there was no available support to help me cope with my insanity. My mental deterioration ensued, and I became lifeless. I was willing to go back to being abused, as long as it meant company. What has my life come to, maybe I am a good-for-nothing forklift after all. Maybe if I had put in more effort would I have been saved from my new reality of eternal loneliness.
When all hope was about to be lost, I heard someone playing around with the storage container door. At this point, I had no clue what to expect, nor did I have the energy to do anything about it. Alas, the door swung wide open, revealing two men; I could tell one was one of the reckless forklift drivers, but I had no clue who the other man was. The unknown man stood humbly, and a feature that caught my eye were the green words “Global Lift” finely embroided on his black shirt.
“She’s a beauty”, said the man in black. “Yeah, she’s got a few scratches here and there, but we’ve made sure to take good care of it while it was still in use.” I was imbued with resentment and anger after hearing such an audacious lie, but there was nothing I could have done. Anyways, they drove me out of the container, and I began to wonder if this was just some surreal dream to help me cope with my isolation. After a few minutes of inspection and discussion, I was constrained with a nose jack and some chains onto the load of a flatbed truck.
I wasn’t able to figure out where or why they were taking me, so my future was rather uncertain. As I began exiting the warehouse, I could feel my hatred and fear for my old home slowly drift off and stay behind. It was refreshing to feel the breeze brushing against my exterior, admiring the different landscapes and buildings we passed. If only I could admire these views forever.
Eventually, I was introduced to my new home. The building was almost triple the size of my previous warehouse, and when I entered inside, I froze in awe. There were hundreds of other machinery, varying in models, shapes, and colors. To be honest, I had no clue what to do; it’s been years since I had last talked to someone else! As I was being unloaded, there were already a few forklifts and even pallet jacks bombarding me with welcome greetings and introductions. The entire experience was truly a miracle, and I couldn’t help but leak a few oil droplets from the sheer euphoria of the moment.
However, the pleasure didn’t end there. I was washed and wiped sparkling clean, I was given brand-new tires and a fully-charged battery, the whole experience felt sensational. Not once had I ever been treated like this, even while at the repair shop! By the end of all the repairs and modifications, it was like if I had just been recently manufactured a few minutes ago! After they rejuvenated my physical self, I was brought to the main compartment of the warehouse where everyone else was.
If it weren’t for my new look, I don’t think I would have mustered the courage to get to know everyone, but here I was, yapping my life story away to some strangers I had never met before. I initially just wanted to simply confide in them and not get much from it, but to my surprise, they showered me with affection and chimed in their personal experiences as well. Overall, it was a super welcoming environment, and I had never imagined how exhilarating it was to chat with other kindred spirits; if I had even one coworker during my time at my old warehouse, I feel like the torture and abuse would have been much more manageable. I sincerely hope that my new replacement is able to keep his head high and find solace within themself.
After chatting with the others more, I realized that there was no actual work to be done here, and that it was more of like a transistion phase towards a new home. It sucks that I won’t be able to live like this forever, but that would go against my purpose as a forklift. Every night, I just hoped that the warehouse I’m assigned to next takes sufficient care of me. Seeing as machines never come back after being relocated, there wasn’t many testaments as to what the future may hold.
As I was mid-conversation with a fellow forklift, I was abrupted due to a pat from the behind. As I retuned my focus, I noticed the same black shirt guy accompanied by a man in a flora shirt and khaki shorts:
“Wow, this thing looks like it’s completely brand new! I cannot thank you guys enough for offering such pristine equipment at your discounted prices.” “I’m telling you man, it’s no problem. I’m glad you’re already taking a liking to it.”
Suddenly, he turned towards me, and whispered in my ear, “It’s okay buddy, you’re gonna be in good hands”. Woah. Has he secretly known about my fears and past, or does he just strongly believe in anthropomorphism? Either way, his reassurance kept me at ease. As I was being loaded, I said my final goodbyes to my fellow machines; some of them have been waiting for their next job for over a decade now, so getting sent out in only a few weeks made my sudden dispatchment rather undeserving.
There was nothing new or special about the travel, but once I had entered their massive warehouse, I knew I was in for a treat. My desires came true; I saw other other forklifts working in the warehouse! I whistled as loud as I could, and managed to catch the attention of one passing by transporting a crate. I yelled and asked, “How do the people here treat ya?”. His response? “Don’t worry about it, they’re gonna treat you like a king for the rest of your life.”
That forklift was right—during my 3 years of working at the new company, I was always taken care of. The operators had been tested on their knowledge of general forklift practices, and they demonstrated it in the way they efficiently yet respectfully controlled me. Furthermore, I was able to wind down and chat with my colleagues in between work sessions, and the company was even generous enough to perform repairs before I had shown any faults! Working with them helped me rekindle my purpose in life, and gave me the motivation to give each day my all. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, including my time on this earth.
With almost 10,000 hours of operating time, I knew my retirement was coming soon; repairs became more commonplace, and I no longer felt in my prime. During the end of my final shift, I said farewell to my colleagues, and told them to tell my replacement I said hello. Loaded onto the bed of a truck for the last time, I embarked on the highway to heaven.
I tried to initially distract myself from my impending death, but I figured that it would make the process even worse. Instead, I began to reflect on my experiences.
My suffering under the first company undermined my self-worth and shattered my hope. That schizophrenic void of a container could have been my final destination, but fortunately, salvation came through the form of that one Global Lift employee. He had freed me from my personal ruin, and I will forever be indebted for his benevolence. After my reinvigoration and relocation, I was able to cover up my inner scars with the compassion of my coworkers and operators. Despite my constant labor and struggles, I fulfilled my duty in life, and now it was time to claim my reward of eternal peace.
Finally, I had reached my final destination. Before I knew it, I was brought into a dark room with remnants of former machines in piles. I guess this was the end.
My consciousness and existence slowly faded as I was dismantled piece-by-piece.
To whatever becomes of my recycled materials and parts, I hope you can live a contentful and meaningful life.
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