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They Thought They Had Me (V)
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 I was on my third Kinko's manager in just four months. The last guy left in three months after 10 years with the company. The new guy was a former Target manager who had taken this job out of desperation. At first he seemed like a cool guy: he would talk about his Harley-Davidson and his Les Paul Custom a lot and made penis jokes. As soon as he figured out the shitpile he had stepped into that all came to an end. This store was so unsalvagable that anyone who took the manager job had a bullseye on their back from day one. He moved the Pepsi machine from one corner to another to signal a new day, then set about getting us in line.
He told me I had to start taking my lunch breaks. If I was due to go on lunch and someone presented me with something to do, send them to him! Later that same day I was about to go to lunch when someone presented me with something to do. I told them to see him, and he told me to do whatever they wanted. Then a day later he told me again that I had to take my lunches, like I was some fool who just wasn't listening to him.
This guy for some reason suspected I was parking the van under a shade tree to jack my cock instead of making deliveries. First I was supposed to keep a log of everywhere I went all day and turn it in at 5 p.m. Then I was supposed to come in a half hour early to make a written plan where I was going to be all day with the shift supervisor, as well as keeping the log. Finally a third stage was added where I was supposed to Nextel them from each stop, as well as planning it out in the morning and turning the log in at the end of the day. Why don't you just cram a homing device up my ass like Marlon Perkins? Not once was I ever discovered jacking my cock anywhere, by the way. Nothing warranted this sort of scrutiny.
(I've told this story before, but we have new audience members.) The shift supervisor who really ran the store knew when to desert the ship and was going to a more successful store. Our manager ordered a going-away cake for her at Publix, unbeknownst to her, that I was to pick up. On my way to get the cake she Nextel'd me that a $1,500 order was ready in the store that had to be delivered immediately. $1,500 was huge for our struggling store, so I tucked my cock in underneath the shade tree and headed for the store and made the delivery on time. Then I shot over to Publix to grab the cake.
Unfortunately by the time I got back to the store the shift supervisor had left, so we ate her going-away cake without her. The manager said I had fucked this up. What I, as the $9.75 an hour delivery driver was supposed to do, was call him, the store manager, and tell him to go get the cake while I made the $1,500 delivery. Wasn't my job title "delivery driver?" Why would I call the manager to pick up a cake? Shouldn't he have more important things to do? The $1,500 order superceded the cake in my mind, but apparently not in his. Sorry, to this day I can't envision calling my boss and telling him, "Hey, can you go get a cake for me? I'm busy."
My friend, the assistant manager who had hired me, had been planning to leave this place soon to start his own business. The new manager was intent on encouraging him to leave even earlier and set about making his life a living hell. Good times were on tap at the ol' Kinko's. Just wait `til you hear the story about the corporate checks.
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Posted by Art | 11:28 PM EST |
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robcasting said...