A Fieldwork Profile of Yellow is a 12 chapter book that examines Yellow Freight.
This insider look studies a flat plane apparatus, internal dock designs, tools, culture, and directives.
Yellow Corporation chose to enter the strange. The company rolled out a new business plan and immediately one of its largest terminals out west became a loser within the Yellow system. This is the story of the destruction of Yellow within its last stages.
~ notes, edits, & final entry ~
Even before I joined the Yellow tribe, I learned that time passes. Gates can close. People and things can quickly disperse. And memories surely fade. I’ve seen this before.
The work began as fragments of a vision. Yellow was already in trouble, then with the introduction of Yellow’s new “roll-out” business plan, the sudden changes were beyond alarming. The company had entered the ridiculous and was choosing to stay there. Some workers here were hip to the LTL game. They also knew the 813 jungle. For some workers, the blatant atrophy of the place was obvious. Also, awkward looking pieces were moving into place. Responsible cube had been compromised and I was prompted to continue to take down accurate notes. I had an obligation (even if it was only private and personal) to keep the notes going. I knew I could glean value from them even if they seemed to look like piles of semi-coherent ramblings. Whether the collection of ideas had been put to paper, or if they were images firmly stationed within my head, everything was fresh. Even as incomplete ideas of design or experience, everything I needed was within reach despite the fact that soon enough much of the ideas would escape me. In my mind, Yellow would soon disappear and much of the scenery around me would become wisps of smoke. My gut was telling me that I had some time, but not much. The problem of cube was too severe, a problem that wasn't getting remedied.
The crypt finally closed. It was time to think about how to approach this project. It would take a spell. With virtually no energy to draw upon I wasn't excited about starting it but it had to get done. Once enough personal steam was built, I started on some easier essays. I found a few good writing spaces and kept a personal log to help stay focused. With a bare bones word processor, I gradually began to move ideas around. After a few months, new chapters arrived, strange ideas which I hadn't anticipated. As the project expanded I could see it moving far beyond a multi-layered treatise. A book was emerging. Eventually I would have to put the brakes on the entire work. I'd shut it down, probably sooner than later.
It soon became evident that this project needed to remain completely private from beginning to end. Even if I could see the value of sharing ideas with others, I couldn’t draw anyone into this while under construction. I also saw the value to keep it away from mainstream media or the usual self publishing outlets. I would keep to some simple personal by-laws, build the book, build a site around the book, fix it free within the internet, then walk away from it.
With old chapters needing refinement, and with new chapters emerging out of nowhere, I had to make a decision. What kind of book length was I really looking at? I was presented with three different choices:
The first choice/direction was obvious. The whole work had to be tight even if it was overly wrought with a tired repetitiveness. It needed to be free of schematics, of more and more dock lay-outs, and all of the flat space materials of design. Without throwing a lasso on it, the book could morph into an unnecessary operating manual, something that would take the work completely off point. Also, I was in no mood to draw on anything I had written previously, whether any of those ideas were applicable or not. I might reference them, but I couldn't draw on them. This was about Yellow Freight and it needed to conclude close to Yellow ground. Yellow was the subject. So, even if only semi-satisfied with the first direction, the wholeness of it had to end with no more than a dozen chapters, and it had to get wrapped in under 200 pages. I wanted a lean snake of a book.
The second choice/direction had a weird potential. Two chapters could mushroom and get out of control if I wasn't careful. I could see a full range of ideas that could draw me in, then pull me away. Two chapters could get supercharged. But the project was already rickety. The book would take on a different style and settle somewhere in the 300-350 page range. In my mind, this direction didn't seem to work.
The third choice/direction was just a demolition derby of a work. I had a mass of notes to draw upon. And there was plenty of value there. The change to door frequency and the generation of new flat planes over and over again suggested something. Every change created a new card and something new to consider. Every poor decision within this so-called business plan was something new to consider. Every new card was packed with meaning, especially if the cards were erroneous. One big west coast facility was throwing paint against the wall and calling it a business plan. Some workers believed (believed mind you) that the alterations were so bad that they had to be calculated. Yellow not only invited a business ogre, but it created one. And there was no shortage of material to examine. However, I had my own ogre of a project to consider. I could see the development of a 500 or 600 page lumbering giant. This direction was tugging on me a little, but not a lot.
No matter the size, one focal point was to take all of the venom out of it, or as much as I could. In the end, it had to be cold.
I wrestled with the title. Then, by September 2024 the book was done (no names were required). I remember leaning back on Labor Day and telling myself that it could stand as is. So, a hard copy was printed out and notarized as well. There have been some revisions and edits to it since then, but not much. It was time to close my log, final entry . . . . September 26th, 2024. The project took almost a year.
A proofreading editor would have been nice. A webmaster would have done me wonders. Help was clearly needed on many levels. But the mission was to create it, to keep it private while doing so, and then quietly set it somewhere within the internet/web record. And that’s it. Besides, there was no more energy. Though I had noted it on a few boards and sent it as an attachment within a few waves of emails (mostly to academia), as a 12 chapter collection I consider it an underground work, a dull piece of faded cardboard with purpose. Keeping it less than 200 pages then setting it aside was correct. I can let it ferment for a while. I'll always stand by it.
Within my own mind, the work continues to fade away. Interest in both book and subject falls away with every passing day. Soon, the work won’t pull on me at all. It’s already shelved as another timepiece, a stand alone observation, a glance at an ugly past. It's also not worth looking at anymore. My only obligation as author is to keep the final version of the work fixed and available.
For this website, there really is no traffic to speak of . . . some days it gets zero hits. No pages are perused, no outside eyes are looking in. I’m choosing not to check its performance, nor to see if it has any new visitations. I will however pay a web hosting company annually to keep it afloat and to ensure that the whole work remains free, undiluted, and easy to access for years to come.
Time to respectfully clock out,
Daniel A. Pino
Author, former employee of Yellow Freight