What the Netherlands sends back goes through his hands. Shoes that are too small, dresses that are too big, jeans that don’t fit well: Erik Svantner (26) opens hundreds of packages every day that customers of six major fashion chains return. Clothing in good condition is resold, the rest is recycled or incinerated. “At first I liked the job,” says Svantner. “But I don’t know how much longer I can last.”
The Netherlands is a distribution country. The Dutch are ordering more and more online. As a result, the number of square meters of distribution centers grew by 50 percent in ten years to over 39 million square meters. Most eye-catching are the ‘XXL centers’, distribution warehouses larger than six football fields. Over a hundred of these centers opened their doors in eight years. Mainly migrant workers work there, at least 100,000, according to a report by the Inspectorate SZW. But who are the people who work there and what kind of work do they do?
Because Svantner, trained as a security manager, did not find a good job in Slovakia, he moved to the Netherlands in 2017. He was 22 years old when he found work in a distribution center on the outskirts of Tilburg where more than 1,500 people work and 2,000 in busy periods. Four years later, he’s still doing the ‘line support‘ – a fancy term for assembly line work. He scans return labels, unpacks packages, checks the clothes, folds them and sorts them by size and brand.
Five or six days a week. From six in the morning to two in the afternoon. His duties are always the same. It’s easy but mentally tough work, says Svantner. “Every day I think: I want to achieve something in my life that my parents are proud of.”
Employment agencies
Finding work in the Netherlands from Poland is a breeze, says Bernadetta (28), who does not want to be in the newspaper with her full name, because she does not want any problems with her boss. She studied art and humanistics and worked as a newspaper salesman, but was unable to continue growing. She wanted to go to the Netherlands. “I don’t have a rich family and I needed money.” Practically broke – “with 100 euros in her pocket” – she traveled to the city of Opole in southwestern Poland, where dozens of foreign employment agencies have offices. She left her resume.
She was soon called: in September 2017 she could start working in the Netherlands. First in a slaughterhouse, later at a postal company. Now she works in the same distribution center as Svantner, packing and unpacking packages for the fashion stores on the assembly line. She works like ‘picker‘: she unpacks 145 return packages, per hour. And that five to six days a week.
Distribution centers are largely dependent on employment agencies for staff. They provide cheap and flexible workers. During the busy Christmas season, they arrange hundreds of extra employees, who often work on temporary contracts. And if there is less work, these contracts can be terminated again. Many employment agencies have their affairs in order, but malicious companies also operate in the forest of more than 14,000 Dutch employment agencies.
This work washes away all your energy. In six years I have not received any course or form of education
Marek Cudowski employee distribution center XPO in Tilburg
In addition to a job in the distribution center, employment agencies often also arrange accommodation, Philip Meijran of the Inspectorate SZW told NRC, which coordinated several checks at distribution centers early last year. That is a dangerous construction, he said, because if the migrant worker loses his job, he also has to leave his home. Migrant workers are so caught up in the ‘tang’ at the employment agency.
To counter this, a committee led by former SP leader Emile Roemer wrote a report in 2020 with fifty recommendations to improve the position of migrant workers. The future Rutte-IV cabinet writes in the coalition agreement to implement the recommendations of the Roemer committee, which argues for stricter rules for employment agencies, more control in the workplace and better housing.
A migrant worker enclave
Three years ago, Svantner acquired a family home in Dongen, a village near Tilburg, together with his Polish girlfriend, her sister and her boyfriend – who all also work in the same distribution center. His street is a migrant worker enclave. The three houses to his left all have foreign colleagues who he encounters on the shop floor. Only the neighbors on the right are Dutch.
This week Svantner is on morning shift and his alarm goes off at 4 a.m. He eats oatmeal porridge with strawberries, honey, and drinks coffee every morning. He prepares his lunch (“always meat, chicken or fish”) the day before. At 05.30 am he gets in the car for a ten minute ride to Tilburg. When his girlfriend, her sister and his friend also have morning shifts, they ride along – in silence. Svantner: “We don’t exchange a word.”
Initially, they had a good time in the distribution center. It pays fine (“12.40 per hour”), says Svantner, who has even had a permanent contract for a year. Almost two euros more than the minimum wage.
And because there is a shortage of staff, you won’t be fired easily, says Bernadetta, who works on a temporary contract. “I am often late.” Svantner made many friends in his first year with the company and often drank beer with colleagues after work.
But over time, their job satisfaction diminished. Talking to colleagues is not allowed, say Svantner and Bernadetta, nor is listening to music. “Individual headphones are not allowed for security reasons,” acknowledges a spokesperson for XPO, as the distribution center in Tilburg is called, “but there are no restrictions on talking to each other.”
Managers have become stricter, say Svantner and the others. And the interaction between colleagues has virtually disappeared. Svantner: “I work with a hundred people in my department, but don’t talk to anyone anymore.” When a colleague recently left after three years, “no one cared,” he says. “As if we’re just numbers.”
Shortened breaks
The workload also increased. The break times became shorter. “We had to go through security after we clocked out before we could really take a break,” says Svantner. “That check took five minutes on the way there and five minutes on the way back. That time was deducted from our break.” As a result, Svantner and his colleagues missed out on 10 minutes of the 45-minute break—time to have a quiet lunch or smoke a cigarette. A number of colleagues drafted a petition. It was signed by 700 people, according to the FNV trade union that supported the action. It is estimated that more than a thousand people work at XPO in Tilburg.
Because XPO did not respond, FNV took a group of migrant workers to the head office of H&M in Amsterdam, one of the clients for XPO. The door remained closed. When they visited an H&M store in Amsterdam, there was a reaction from the top of XPO. “We have the extra ten minutes back,” says Svantner. XPO and H&M are “glad” that the pause issue has been resolved.
The work itself becomes difficult after a while. When Bernadetta is free, she likes to read fantasy books and classic novels and visit the museum, but during work she barely uses her brain, she says. “That’s difficult. I feel like a monkey doing the same trick over and over.”
The morning and evening shifts are also exhausting, they say. Due to the changeable shifts and the weekend schedule, there is little time left for a social life. Marek Cudowski (44), who has been with the company for six years, would like to learn Dutch, but after a working day he no longer has the time or energy for it. Cudowski: “This work washes away all your energy. In six years I have not received any course or form of education.” Svantner will try. Every day he takes a notebook with Dutch words with him, and tries to memorize it during the service.
Language proficiency is not an obligation for EU citizens to live in the Netherlands. Cudowski, Svantner and Bernadetta therefore have to pay and arrange it themselves. “But,” says Bernadetta, “assimilating is difficult when only Polish and English are spoken at work.”
Their future lies outside the distribution center, they are sure of that. Cudowski himself is surprised that he has been with the company for six years. “Most people only work here for a few months.” Bernadetta will keep it up for a few more years, she says. She does not want to return to Poland because of the political situation there. “In the Netherlands I feel free, I want to learn the language, continue my studies and eventually become self-employed.”
Although Poland “beckons”, Cudowski wants to stay in the Netherlands for the coming years, he says, because he has “invested years” in his stay in the Netherlands. Svantner misses Slovakia, but thinks it will be difficult to find a good job there. More and more he feels that he is wasting his time. “The past few years feel like lost.”
A version of this article also appeared in NRC Handelsblad on 8 January 2022
A version of this article also appeared in NRC on the morning of January 8, 2022
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