When a job asks nothing of the mind, the only real challenge left is inventing clever ways to beat the system. Workers fill the empty hours with schemes, tricks and games, often while drunk or stoned, just to make the dullness bearable.
A good factory paycheck works less like a reward than like concrete shoes: it pins you in place. Once you are middle-aged with no other marketable skills, the pay you can't match elsewhere makes leaving unthinkable, however much you hate the work.
Endless drudgery on the line feels like dropping out of high school forever. Workers hang in suspended animation, never quite growing up, seeking relief in alcohol and pranks the way bored teenagers do.
Factory life is often inherited rather than chosen. A family history of plant work, a shaky home and a few bad habits can point a young person straight to the line, overriding whatever other talents or hopes they had.
From the shop floor, the plans handed down from above to motivate and control workers look just as pointless as the work itself. Workers see how easily the system can be outwitted, which makes management's efforts seem out of touch.