NORTHFIELD, NJ -- In a series of related stories regarding the events of Dec. 17, I have decided to pentrate the fortress of retail, and explore the motivations behind getting a job in the industry.
At first the place seemed jovial, almost silly. People were cracking jokes, and even singing! But, as the day drew onward, the ability to tolerate puns and inuendo dissolved.
Said one employee, Sarah, 25: "I'm ready to fucking kill myself. I wanna die. If I hear one more joke about how I have a giant head or how one of my eyes doesn't open all the way, I'm gonna go out back and drown myself in a puddle."
Other employees claimed that it's "just a job," while one said, "I'm not fit to do anything else, and the people aren't so bad." These two 'positive' responses aside, I dug farther into the core of operation, and once again came across Jeff Awesome. This time he was in the back room opening boxes.
I asked him what was his reason for working in the business.
"Because I'm a fucking retard," he said. "I have nothing else to do and I'm trapped. If you wanna help me, you can knock this shelf over onto me so I can go home early."
The shelf he was refering to streched an estimated 25 feet to the ceiling.
He added, "If I was smart, I'd have gone to college, but, let me remind you: I'm a fucking retard. Why don't you make yourself useful and find me some bitch I can fuck in the darkroom."
I asked the manager, Coleman, if he considered retail a dangerous work environment as far as mental health goes.
"Oh, I'm not surprised at all the suicide rate. It makes perfect sense. I keep a Glock-9 in my drawer." He giggled and said, "Nah, I'm kidding."
By the end of the day, the store looked completely different. At first, the floors were clean, the trash cans were empty, people were smiling and full of vim and vigor. But, at the end, a mere ten hours later, the store was a mess, and the energy had dropped considerably. When the first shift was over, the people leaving at 5 o'clock left with no remorse, leaving behind glassey eyes that hoped one day THEY would get to leave at a decent time.
On his way out the door, Coleman asked Jeff to clean up before he closed the store. When thirty minutes or so rolled by, and he still had made no move to empty the trash cans, I asked him why.
"Fuck it. Someone'll get it in the morning. I ain't doin' shit. I got egg nog at home."
~wombat
Posted by wombat at December 19, 2003 10:24 AM