The Truth is Out There

As I've mentioned before, I'm a cashier. I happen to work for one of the biggest retailers in the US. You probably know which one. The company is so large, we have our own little monthly magazine. It's a glossy little mag filled with cute, feel-good stories about our corporation. Few people read it, including me. This month's dealt with our annual shareholder's meeting, or as I often call it, the Yearly Pep Rally. When I paged through it out of boredom yesterday, the opening op-ed for this issue caught my eye. The author wanted us, the employees, to spread the good word of our company, since there had been so much bad press about the corporation. According him, there was more to the story than what was "misconstrued" in the mainstream media.

Well, sir, I have a couple of stories about our glorious company. Both of them are true. And sir, neither one you will like.

Back in March of this year, I was called into the manager's office. It was 10:35 in the morning and I was manning the cigarette lane. Another cashier had to come in and take over my duties while I was gone. As I placed my drawer in another check-out lane, I jokingly said to the lead cashier, "All right, what did I do this time?" Her reply scared the hell out of me: "We'll talk about that when we're in the office." Now I knew I was in trouble; usually the leads on duty will play along with the joke. After my till was secured, I walked to the back of the store, my palms sweating and my heart pounding. I walked into the office, sat down with the lead and waited for a member of management. When the assistant manager got there, they dropped the bomb.

I was being written up. My offense? Telling jokes during lunch. Why? These jokes were (this is a direct quote) "bringing down morale".

To say I was surprised was putting it mildly. None of my joking was inappropriate; it was just the usual joshing around. But they weren't done with me yet: it appeared that I made people "uncomfortable" when I sat with them at the tables in the break room. (Odd, I always asked if anyone cared if I sat with them...) I didn't even know what to say in my defense; I was too damned shocked. I managed to mumble out a few phrases, but was told by management it would be better if I kept my mouth shut on my lunch hour and read a book. Oh and don't sit near anyone, Gods forbid. My mind numb, I managed to type out a half-hearted apology on the manager's computer, then I was summarily dismissed.

I was shaken. Before I went back to the front end, I made a quick stop in the women's restroom to collect myself. It took all my strength to hold back my tears. After sitting in a lonely stall for about ten minutes, I went back to work. For the rest of the day, I tried to act as though everything was okay. But more than once, I just wanted to cry.

Things went back to "normal" so to speak, for the next few weeks. Then came late May, when on a Sunday afternoon, I was again summoned to the manager's office. Apparently I needed to be punished yet again. It seems I had been getting overtime, which was mainly due to the fact that no one would shut my lane down on time. If I did it myself, I was told to stay until my replacement came 30 minutes (or more) later. So I was being given a decision day, which meant I was going to be sent home to decide what I would do to keep my job. Now, this was a Sunday afternoon, which meant there was no bus service that day. Prime had the PC hooked to the net and since we have dial-up, I couldn't call him. I told the assistant manager this, but she merely said, "Keep trying until you get through." I told her that was nearly impossible. She replied, "Call someone else." I told her if I tried my mother in law and she wasn't home, I would be stuck. The assistant manager just shrugged.

Needless to say, I tried calling Prime, but could not reach my sweet soulmate. I tried to call his mother. No answer there. I tried calling for a taxi and they never answered. So I was screwed, to put it mildly. How did I get home? Well, the answer is simple.

I walked. It took me two hours, but I walked all the way home. When I finally got home and knocked on the door, Prime nearly shit his pants. I told him everything and he was not pleased. At all. I had to convince him not to do anything rash. Me, I was so damned depressed that all I could do was cry. When I went back to work the next day, I typed out another half-assed apology to the company. By then I just didn't care. It's been nearly two months after this wonderful incident and I still just don't care. I almost wish they would have fired me and gotten it the hell over with. And I'm not the only one with low morale; a lot of the other employees have said they wouldn't care if they got fired tomorrow. Yet the company wants us to shit out all these sunshiny lies about how fucking great it is working for them.

Sorry, no.
Not.
Going.
To.
Happen.

I will not lie for this company anymore. I will not put forth their bullshit. I will spread the truth, no matter how bad it may sound. The media has it right and nothing has been misconstrued. The truth is out there, but the company can't handle it.

Or doesn't want to.

--Weasel, lighting the candle of reality to blot out the BS