The Obedience
Express
by Linda Carter
I wasn’t
scheduled to work that night at my liquor store cashier job, but I received a
phone call early in the day from Priscilla, Assistant
Manager.
One of my
co-workers had called in sick and Priscilla asked me if I could work the night
shift. Sure, why not.
Now that I
look back on all this, I remember a scene in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, where
Judge Reinhold took over for a kid at the front counter and ended up losing his
job.
When I got
to work, a co-worker told me what needed to be done that night. It was so
unorthodox I insisted we confirm our orders with
Priscilla.
“That’s
right,” she said, she wanted us to stock as much wine as possible on store
shelves, without writing it on “pull sheets,” the most time consuming and
frustrating part of stocking the store.
So I went
to town and had a blast.
Over the
course of the night, I loaded 15 shopping carts full of wine out of the back
stockroom onto store shelves, carefully organizing them according to brand,
varietal and country of origin.
I could fit
about 12-15 bottles on each layer in the cart and I stacked them four high. I
put big bottles under the cart. 60 bottles a trip x 15 trips= 900 bottles
At the end
of the evening, my co-worker lauded my efforts and told me to write “15 carts of
wine” on the daily task list employees are required to check.
Apparently,
managers are not required to check this list.
Shortly
before leaving for work the next day, I read this email from Assistant Manager
Priscilla.
“Hey guys!
When you have some spare time would you mind going over what was completed last
night? I still found garbage in displays, an open case of Mikes Hard 6nr on the
floor and inventory was not flooded as far as I could tell. I could be missing
key things that you guys accomplished. Thank you and I look forward to speaking
with you!”
I was a
mystified and I must say disappointed to learn that moving nearly a thousand
bottles of wine in one evening is not significant enough to be noticed by those
in charge.
On the way
to the store, my mind burned.
I
confronted Priscilla almost immediately, in front of wine reps, the store owner,
customers and according to an irate Priscilla, “members of my own staff!”
I told her
I was pissed, so pissed that I was trying to decide whether to clock in for my
5-10 shift.
She looked
at me wide eyed, “Pissed, pissed at me?”
I yanked
the task list off the wall, pointing to the note I left about moving 15 carts of
wine the night before.
And then, I unleashed. I lambasted
her for sending an accusatory e-mail, a nasty missive with underlying tones of
disapproval and condescension.
Out of the
corner of my eye, I see Byron, the store owner, trying to wave me outside. I
follow him, seething.
This wasn’t
completely their fault. I had taken a job that was far beneath my talents, pay
grade and knowledge. I could handle anything but mind
games.
Priscilla
wanted power, she wanted to exert authority and she was too stupid to realize
that 9 dollars an hour does not buy that kind of obedience in some
people.
My first
words to Priscilla when she emerged from the building were, “Am I fired?”
She
replied, “No, but you will be written up.”
I reached
out my hand and said, “It’s been nice knowing you.”
Some days
are too short to ride the obedience express.
Linda
Carter/Copyright 2014
