Things were going swimmingly at the ol' Kinko's. Everybody was on "special status," some punishment level the new manager had thought of, except his two favorite employees. He was hiding in his office sending out resumes while everyone else was running around trying to complete more orders than the staff could handle. Every now and then he would step out to repeat his "a can of kerosene and a match" line and give conflicting directions.

Again it was 3:30 p.m. on a Friday and orders that had to be at their destinations by five were just rolling off the copiers. I was frantic and told the new manager I had a strong feeling we weren't going to make it. He put his finger to his lips to calm me and said, "This isn't business, this is personal: I think you're highly intelligent and very conscientious and thorough with your work." Gee...that was one of the nicest compliments I'd ever gotten. So why was this what happened next?

He had this new decree that I had to mop the stock room three times a week and sign a slip of paper saying I had done it. I told him I wasn't going to have time to make these deliveries and mop. He said, "Fuck that, do what you gotta do."

That was Friday. Monday comes around, and here comes my pal, the assistant manager, with a clipboard saying he has to write me up, per the manager, for not mopping the stock room. "He told me himself, 'Fuck that,' and told me I was conscientious and thorough!'" My friend looked stunned and said, "Really?!"

I told this Jamaican kid that worked in the store about my write-up and he said, "Your friend wrote you up? Black people would never write each other up!"

I said, "One thing I've learned, Gaymeon -- never trust whitey!"

"You're telling me?!," he rolled his eyes. I said I was starting to believe it myself!

The next Friday comes along and again we're swamped. Again this manager tells me mopping the stock room isn't as important as my deliveries. And again Monday rolls around and I get another write up for not mopping! The next time he said I was doing a good job I told him I'd like it in writing.

The ol' delivery driver wasn't going to pull these following-directions hijinks much longer, though. One more time to do as I was told and that was IT!

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