Driving for UPS is constant motion. Here’s why I’m feeling stuck right now.

How long would you stand in line for pie? What if it’s really good pie, from a local bakery selling it for $3.14 apiece?

Well, on Pi Day, Friday, March 14th, I stood in a long line to pay $3.14 for really good, locally baked pie. I probably wouldn’t have done it just for myself, but it was important to my pie-loving family.

When I took my place at the end of the line, I had no idea how long I’d be waiting. It turned out to be two hours! That seems like an absurdly long time to wait for pie, even for really good pie. But there I was. And I wasn’t the only one – not by a long shot! Hence the long wait.

Every so often, someone ahead of me would leave the line. Maybe they decided it wasn’t worth the wait. Maybe they had other things to do and couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever the reason, their leaving the line made my wait just a little shorter.

This only happened while I was still closer to the back than to the front. After about halfway, everyone ahead of me was committed to staying. Who would leave a line after having waited all that time, just as they were about to get their turn?

I didn’t pay much attention to those joining the line after me. My wait wasn’t affected by whether that line was long or short, whether people joined or left it. The only thing that concerned me was the line ahead – the people standing between me and pie.

Then, about 45 minutes into my wait, I started to panic. What if they run out of pie before it’s my turn? This seemed like a real possibility at the time. What if the people still ahead of me buy up all the pie? All this waiting and I’d have nothing to show for it! But I was given assurances that yes there’d be enough pie for everyone, all day long.

And sure enough, there was.

After two hours I finally stepped inside and found the bakery humming with activity. It was full of workers scurrying in all directions, trays of freshly baked pie everywhere. I placed my order, paid for it, and in just a few more moments walked outside triumphantly with my (family’s) pie.

Truthfully, the wait hadn’t been terrible; the time didn’t drag. Everyone was filled with anticipation. People chatted excitedly with their line neighbors. It was a fun shared experience – we were getting pie!

By this point you may be wondering: how could I possibly stand in line for two hours in the middle of a workday?

The reason, dear reader, is the same reason I’m sharing this story now: I’d already taken my place in a different line, a line that’s gotten longer since I joined it.

Like the line for pie, I had no idea how long I’d be waiting when I took my place in this line. I still don’t.

Unlike the line for pie, people are being added to the front of this line, not the back, thus lengthening my wait even further. I’m hoping that it eventually gets shorter, but at the moment the line isn’t moving at all.

This other line I’m referring to is the group of UPS drivers in my building who’ve been laid off in reverse-seniority order since the last holiday Peak season three months ago.

The official seniority list of drivers where I work includes 104 names. At the moment, the number of those drivers on layoff is 29. That’s right: more than one-quarter of the full-time drivers in my building are currently not driving full-time – including me.

I’d begun worrying about layoffs last summer for multiple reasons: things going on in the company, the industry, the economy. My worries weren’t misplaced, only mis-timed.

I made it all the way through last year without getting laid off. In fact I’d made it through four-plus years of full-time driving without ever once getting laid off. Many others hadn’t been so lucky.

But this year the layoffs did come for me, eventually. As I write this, I’m in my sixth week of layoff, and it looks like I’ll be here for at least a few weeks more. Maybe a few months.

At the moment, ten higher-seniority drivers are in line ahead of me. They stand between me and being called back to full-time driving. I doubt there will be any further layoffs, but I’ve been wrong about that before. Anything can happen.

Meanwhile, another eighteen drivers are in line behind me. The most junior of these drivers were laid off at the end of last year’s Peak season, and it’s likely they won’t be called back until the beginning of this year’s Peak. Most of them are now working part-time in the warehouse.

Layoffs at UPS can be confusing to people who don’t work there. For starters, they’re almost never permanent. They’re usually only for a week at a time, renewable as needed, indefinitely. The expectation is that when work picks up again, drivers will be called back in seniority order.

Not only are laid-off UPS drivers not completely out of a job, we’re not completely out of work. After a mandatory five-day waiting period, we can come back to the warehouse for one or several part-time shifts each day – albeit at the lower part-time ‘inside’ hourly rate.

For lower-seniority drivers, this move is a step down of several dollars per hour. But for drivers like me earning Top Rate, it’s a wage reduction of more than half.

Because I work a Tuesday through Saturday schedule, I still drive a full day every Saturday, earning my driver rate. So with four days of inside work plus one day of driving, I’m now earning around one-third of my usual pay each week for about half my usual hours.

Not surprisingly, then, waiting in this line feels very different from waiting in line for pie. It even feels different from other times I’ve had to wait as a UPS driver.

Let’s start with the money. Like the others waiting with me, I’ve had to figure out how to deal with a much-reduced income.

On two occasions so far, I’ve been asked to drive just for the day when they’re short-staffed. A second day of driving now has a big impact on my weekly paycheck. It gives me another eight or nine hours of work – and by contract I get my higher driver rate for my warehouse work that day.

Also, I recently cashed out one of my vacation weeks, and I have an actual vacation coming up soon. I wouldn’t have made ends meet in either March or April without those two full weeks of full-time driver pay.

Things will be different in May, but best-case scenario is I’ll be called back – or at least driving more often – as the weather gets nicer and more drivers take vacations and days off. Worst-case scenario is I start dipping into savings to address the monthly shortfall until Peak season. I can’t imagine not driving full-time once Peak hits. But then again, anything can happen.

Maximizing my work hours also matters for maintaining my eligibility for employer-funded health insurance premiums and pension contributions. Since I’m a type 1 diabetic with less than twenty years until retirement, these are both very important to me.

Beyond that, though, I simply need to keep busy. I’ve never gone without paid employment since I was fifteen years old – even when I was in school full-time. The structure of a daily work schedule is just as necessary for me as the money and benefits.

Unstructured days are great for things like waiting in line for pie. But for me – and my wife will attest to this – they haven’t been great for much else. I haven’t stepped up to do more housework, nor have I attacked the ‘honey-do’ list. Even the few household chores I typically do without being asked go undone more often than not.

My interest in my favorite hobbies has also cratered. I haven’t baked in over a month. I just skipped an entire week of my marathon training plan. And for the past several weeks I’ve had to drag myself back again and again to compose this post.

Thus my motivation has taken a severe hit. So too have my identity and sense of self. There’d been a time when I struggled with the feeling of being ‘just’ a UPS driver. Now I’m struggling with the feeling that I’m not even that. This job that I love, that has given me joy and a place in the world, is now being withheld from me – through no fault of my own.

I’m finding myself more and more withdrawn from my dearest friends and family. Instead I gravitate toward the company of my line neighbors. While I’ve tried to stay connected with my coworkers who are still driving, those connections are somewhat strained by our newly-divergent schedules and statuses. It’s much easier to relate with people who share my experience of being laid off.

And I’m at that point where I’m starting to panic. Amidst all the tariff announcements, consumer confidence in the U.S. has fallen for four months straight, and consumer expectations for the near future are now at a twelve-year low. Americans across the political spectrum are expressing worsening sentiments about the direction of their personal finances, business conditions, unemployment, and inflation. What if there’s no ‘pie’ waiting for me in this line and I’m just wasting my time?

I’ve considered looking for other jobs; I have a few ideas. But not only would I likely take a pay cut, I’d lose the great health coverage and pension benefits. It would be really hard to walk away.

Currently I’m (slightly) closer to the front than the back of the line. I think I’d really regret leaving it after all this time. Not just the time I’ve been laid off, but the entire almost-five years I’ve put in with the company.

So I’m stuck right now. But there’s a difference between being stuck and feeling stuck. As I continue waiting, I try to keep these three things in mind:

1. It’s worse elsewhere. Multiple UPS facilities around the country, especially in rural areas, are being permanently and completely closed. Those UPS jobs have disappeared entirely and they’re not coming back.
2. I still have choices. I can choose to stay or leave. I can choose joy and hope over woe and despair. I can find gratitude in the fact that there’s a line here and I have the ability to stay in it (cf. 1. above).
3. This too shall pass. My time at UPS has been marked by relentless, unexpected change. Why would this be any different?

I find it both comforting and inspiring that not one of the other 28 laid-off drivers has quit the line yet. If they can do this, then so can I.