I once saw a wall of boxes bury a man in the back of a semi. This was in the truck bay of The Company’s fulfillment warehouse in Shakopee, Minnesota. I had been working there for a few weeks. The boxes were packed to the ceiling of the trailer and the trailer was ten feet high. The man was unloading, twisting back to throw each box onto the conveyor belt behind him. Then he pulled the wrong box and, looking up, realized.
“I think I’m losing my mind,” I told my sister, spilling into the kitchen.
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