Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Updates Coming

For those still following along. I'm gonna try and post a couple essays soon. Right now I'm getting out of a bad depression slump so I'll take a bit to come back. They may not be frequent but I got a bit burnt out at my previous rate. Stay tuned.

Yes this is shameless filler at the moment (like a Green Day album). But I'd rather be honest.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

You'll Rest When You're Dead

I did something special my last shift working. For the first time in my three month tenure of working for my store I actually visited our employee "lounge". I put that word in parenthesis because what I found was all but anything resembling anything loungable and its location and company...well....far from relaxing. Located on the second floor of our store through a twisting hallway of sterile doors reminiscent of a hospital ward with an atmosphere I can only describe complimentary 'infectious'.

However let me explain why it was my first visit. You see my company despises non-productivity. A company philosophy I as a bad employee do not embrace. So in the absence of any customers or reason an employees default setting should be switched to "busy work regardless of if there is any actual work to do. This also transfers into our break time. This is better aptly described as 'maintenance' time in the corporate world. This is the time where all the little robots go to fuel up (eat), oil up (stretch/get off sore feet), and empty waste (self explanatory). Marx describe it best in 'Das Kapital' where he described how capitalism is the only system where a owners machines fix and repair themselves without pay and without disadvantage to the proprietor. This is the difference between a salaried employee versus an hourly employee. Or to put it better a wife versus a prostitute. In the latter, non of the upkeep and only the wanted product. Hmmmm, I guess that makes me a very poorly dressed AND paid whore.

Anyways, us employees are only allowed a 15 minute break every 4 -5 hours (although I've offset this through lies) paid and a 30 minute unpaid lunch every five hours...how generous. It's also always poorly time by management to suit "Is this good for the company?" (i.e. one hour into a nine hour shift. Yes, really).But naturally as a bad employee I ignore what I like to call "guidelines" and just take it when I feel like it because the only thing worse than me changing my break time is actually paying me not to take a break.

It's during this time I immediately vacate the store. I mean it's one thing to work there but to socialize in MY off-time? perish the thought. Plus my Hindi/Tamil/Gujarati isn't quite up to the fluent level. So I immediately head to my car and either go home for my lunch or hit the local depression analgesic fast-food shack for something to mask the personal disgust with...physical disgust.

So I was taken back when I actually visited the lunchroom. Apparently the concept of a lunchroom got mistranslated from corporate policy to mean "feed station" in retail application. Furniture I swear they were just storing from the picnic table we can't sell during the winter, plastic chairs that reminded me of the preschools I'm not allowed 50 feet of (Damn you Megans Law!),  and vending machines that were probably sponsored by the local dental office in order to "drum up business". Well.... either them or Goodlife Fitness. Going around the room some more, there was a TV obviously taken from the electronics display aisle that still had its accompanying box below the ledge it looked like it's just being stored on till we run out of floor stock. And finally three computers that aren't ever turned on, let alone any instruction on how to actually log into (I also know the store doesn't have Internet except for the Store Manager/office staff. So I guess they placed them there so we could practice writing our resumes for other jobs but not actually apply online.

Anyways, I certainly wasn't missing much and don't plan on returning anytime soon. It was an interesting visit I thought I could turn into an article and here it is. Voila!

p.s. Excuse any typos, it's late and I don't feel like proof reading this now and the stupid auto-save function is pissing me off.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Price Check into the Boards


I'm a sales person on the floor. But whenever a cashier calls me blindly because she can't deal with a customer yelling at her telling her to give them the lower price I walk up to the counter calmly and explain to them:

"Sir/Mam the price is as the computer dictates."
They usually reply that they're entitled to the price for whatever reason, be it made up or a mistake of placing the product in the correct hole, the sale sign not being taken down (which DO have expiry dates on them), or it "looks like" something in the flyer with a different product number.

"Well Sir/Mam, as much as you want it to be that price it isn't the case. All merchants can reserve the right to change price, null deals and specials, or DENY service where they see fit, As a PRIVATE company we are allowed to do this. Unfortunately we can not sell the item at this price because we would actually lose money. All we can offer you is an apology."

I don't yell this, or scream this and I'm not rude just firm. I explain this AS THE LAW it is. And I do give them a hearted apology. Except in 90% of the cases, customers are out to get the lowest price no matter the cost and usually get loud thinking I'll either back down or give in. Regardless, I make it clear that whatever television show ,friend of theirs, or some Episode of LA Law explained to them is WRONG.

Nobody has ever quoted any Act or Law when saying this, as usual it’s always a case of someone thinking they can yell their way into financial gain (unless it’s Bill O’Reilly). Usually it is 99% of the time in the face of some teenage girl cashier who is on the verger of tears by the time I swoop in and turn on the tough talk switch. I’m not a bully, in fact I was picked on all my life until I found a nice balance in the social realm of quiet outsider. But when I see crap like verbal abuse against somebody they think will just stand there are take it. Well…that’s when I start having fun.

I admit it. I absolutely LOVE arguing with customers. Because it’s the time when I can really tell people how I feel. Granted I always choose my battles well to make sure its not in front of management, I’m not wearing my name tag, and it’s not some dude who looks like he’s out on a prison-day pass. One trait I’m proud of is my ability to keep composure but still insult and egg people on to get angrier. So by the time we’re finished they usually drop everything and leave the store. We by-pass the whole “I want to talk with your manager!” Because I make it quite apparent that nobody cares about their selfishness. It’s a scene straight out of Dave Chapelle’s “Popcopy” skit (Google it, Youtube doesn’t have it).

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Jason Fried: Why work doesn't happen at work | Video on TED.com




This doesn't relate to my "field" of business and isn't practical for the retail business model. This is more of a shout out to those white collar readers not so much as a demand to listen but rather a request to at least watch. Having been a manager myself in a prior job I found the ideas contained in this talk very interesting and provocative as I lined it up with my own experiences managing a group of people.

If you've never heard of TED Talks, check out the site. There is a collection of amazingly creative, artistic, intelligent, and Tony Stark level innovating talks. Best of all you don't have to be Iron Man to afford checking it out. It's all free.


P.S. Thank you for the over whelming comments and responses from my last post. I'm glad to see that people identify with what I wrote and shared their own experience with others. Having read many many comments in the last month it was a pleasant change to see people interacting with an idea or opinion. Thanks.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Little Bit of History

I've said it before. I haven't always been like this. I used to think that going to work was fun and that I was a "valued member of the team" but over the years you begin to realize just how unimportant in the world you are. In my own case I found how every job I held I and my fellow employees were just reduced to numbers. Merely a changing face with a changing set of variables accompanying it. How much per hour, how much seniority, how many times late, how many 'training objectives' met, and most importantly. How much money we generated for the company.

It didn't matter if you were a "good" employee who was great with customers. Why? Because the guy who answered questions, didn't make chit-chat, and filled the absolute minimum requirements for a sale was numerically more valuable. Fore go the fact that showing some humanity or god forbid empathy for a customer gives a better shopping experience and also an unmeasurable increase in workplace morale (happy customer = happy employee). No, it's all been reduced to immediate gains that can be penned in black ink for the budget report.

Did you know that long ago people used to have a business relationship with their local grocer or butcher? That repeat business and a simple personal touch always ensured future business versus the other store that might have lower prices?

I had just thought about this the other day. When I grew up their was a local barber who always cut my father's and I hair. He would always ask us how the family was and what I was up to as a little playful scamp and so forth. As I got older I started going on separate days from my father, just because of scheduling and that I could drive myself. He would ask about my Dad and vice-versa.  Now note, this guy wasn't a family friend. We didn't have him over for dinner ever, just a guy who cut our hair. Yet he took the time to actually show interest in the people who came into his little one chair shop where he was the only guy working. He kept all the change loose in a drawer as we always gave tips for the good experience. If you asked for a receipt you would a get a fucked up look from the rest of the customers who waited on the benches flanking the one chair, taking a moment to look up from the Popular Science or Maxim Magazine they may have been reading at the moment.The thing is. The guy owned a house just by cutting hair and giving shaves. Can anyone who works at "Magic cuts" say the same? 

I don't really know what this was supposed to be about. I started out wanting to rant about how shitty I got treated by bosses growing up, but then it turned into more of a nostalgic commentary on how we treat each other as people in public. But if I can give you any advice your willing to accept, it's this.

Make your work a performance of art. Then nobody can measure or compare it to anything or anyone.

Administration note: Stop posting your blogs address in the comments. If people are interested in you, they will click your name to find your blog. I will not publish any comments doing this from now on. Even more so now, since I'm writing this.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Pay Day!

Oh Joyous Hymns ring out! The day has arrived! Today I am showered...well....at least misted with some cash to spend. It was an early morning as I had to wake up early for my other part time job for this crooked agency that sends out waiters to fill in at restaurants. I am one of those said waiters who you see who doesn't quite have that correct uniform and looks kinda lost while serving you. Only I spent last night blogging, and by blogging I mean reading everyone blog who I've followed (yes I do actually read your articles), commenting where valid effort is put forth. I also took in the Musashi III movie from 1954 Japan as I found it a very intriguing portrayal. So I had like four hours sleep max. Now before this turns into one of those "Dear diary, lawlz buoys r weird!" type of entries I will get to the sarcastic bitter commentary you've (I think) have grown accustomed to soon enough.

So when I woke up on my futon (yes.... I sleep on a futon mattress...no frame) I hit the snooze of the cellphone alarm three times and finally rolled out of bed for my six hour shift. A quick shit, shower, shave and I was on my way! Now today was special. You see today was supposed to be an easy six hour shift. Why? Because I got sent out to be "that" douche bag who hangs around in bathrooms offering towels, breath mints, and spritz of cologne for your to cover up the smell of last nights afterbirth of Mexican food. The whole time making you feel bad in order to give me tips. Unfortunately this agency discourages tips and specifically sends you to places with a no tipping policy. The very reason people do waiting!

Anyways, I left an hour early for this place downtown which I thought was plenty of time. Until an hour and a half into the commute where my GPS has been saying I'm 2km away from my destination for the last five minutes and I'm seconds away from improvising a scene from "Falling Down". So after another twenty minutes in traffic and yelling wishful epitaphs at the dashboard like "Hurry the fuck up SABU!" and "God damn Savages!" I finally made it to the cute little checkered flag on my GPS. I found the closest parking lot across from this place and being already fifty minutes late had a well rehearsed lie to cover up my tardiness (he he 'tard'). When I saw it: $10/hr. Parking $13/Day max. I was blown back, firstly by the terrible math of some shyster parking lot attendant but more so that I wasn't told of this in advance let alone prepared to part with my recently found wealth. Albeit a small one.

So I drove my car into the lot without paying, parked, and just pondered to myself. Now in University I had failed Calculus my first year (why prove a theorem? Can't we just take your word on it?), but I did pass Statistics so my practical math skills were quite well and I knew that:
 (Days Pay - [lateness X Hrs] - Parking Fee = Much less)
Also I added that going to this place would guarantee I had to talk to some 'Floor Manager' and "explain myself" as to why I was late. So I quit. I didn't tell anybody, and nobody asked me where I was, never gave or received a call. I just quit.

I pride myself on never having been fired from a job. Not because I'm a great worker, but because as a bad employee I have a hardwired monitor of every employment situation and how the future is potentially going to turn out from certain potential actions (it ain't exactly chaos theory, but a workable cognitive tic of mine). I've posted before of how every job I work has a fuse: It's just a matter of time until it hits the detonator. This one had run out. Not that I expected to be fired from a company that exploits its workers. Which seems a bad habit of mine lately in choosing occupations, like that hot chick who runs back to her boyfriend every time the corrective facial surgery gauze comes off. It's was just the piling of the days situation that got me fed up with this operation.


And thus began the blessed "Day of quitting". I can't remember everyone I've ever done. But I can always remember the joy that I felt on those days. Like a junkie searching for that first high, the only difference is that every time I do this it's the same blessed peak. A wash of elation mixed with a calm relaxed feeling. I even had a cigarette to celebrate (the first of my lovely payday purchases)....oh shit...ITS ALSO PAYDAY!!! What!
It's like if Santa fucked the Easter Bunny and you got all your presents from giant Kinder Surprises!

So I quickly drove back to my end of town on the ever clear non-commuting side of the highway where I went to a gas station and...filled my mother fuckin' gas tank...Like a Boss.
Then got some more cigarettes...Like A Boss.
Then I went to the grocery store and got groceries...Like A Boss.
Paid off some Library fines...Like A Boss.
Paid my outstanding bills...Like A Boss.
And still had money for my date tommorow...Like a Boss.


Then after that I went home and gorged  myself on actual food in the afternoon (Nesquick Cereal! IT'S CANDY FOR BREAKFAST!!!) I went to work and actually had a good shift. It was very slow at the store so there was hardly any customers, less returns to put back, less helping required, and a nice pace in which to work. Most importantly, I didn't have any department supervisor buzzing over my shoulder like an annoying mosquito. And the manager that was working stayed well away since my little recorded warning incident.

All in all a very good day. I even took a break in the middle of it all to enjoy a cigarette and poop (not at the same time mind you) as I recently fed my immigrant co-workers a lie about labour laws. I told them the Labour code states every three hours you require at least a fifteen minute break. So believing me, I've now not only increased my own downtime on the job, But the downtime of others!

Fuck Yeah today was a good day! A small victory, but I'll take it um as I get um! More on quitting in general in my next post.

If you like my style of blog, checkout a fellow canuck Fruffles' new blog @ Entertainment Placebo
His chronicle as a Retail teller in a bank. If you think people go apeshit over ShamWows, just wait till you deal with the money of the lunatics. 

Further followup if you're still reading: I saw that Hunchback lady again tonight at the grocery store. I didn't acknowledge her or make conversation, and she didn't notice me cause I was wearing different shoes (ba dum tsk) but apparently she can drive. I didn't know what to think as she sped away.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

The Day Before Pay Day

It's always a scramble those last few days before pay day isn't it?
This should resonate with anyone whose worked on minimum wage or is knee-deep in depth. You end up planning on how you are going to blow your check already and wondering what bills you can put off for another two weeks. My days aren't really full of sunshine as growing up poor also adds to the stress of having no excess cash even in adulthood. This is forever compounded by having an acute awareness of just how fucked I am for the time. It's well and good if you're completely ignorant and content earning nothing while making someone else rich. But for the majority of us stiffs it's like a twisting knife dipped in lemon juice and rolled in salt.

My day besides going through withdrawals for nicotine was highlighted by not looking forward to tomorrow's four hour smack in the face shift and literally counting out nickels and dimes for the local chain grocers cashier. After that I went to the library and prayed they've yet to install a "deadbeat alarm" as my overdue fines for books I've yet to even glance at are still building up.

All of this is even compiled by my shoe-string diet of condensed soup, pasta, and cans of tuna fish. I've sworn off ramen forever myself but still get calls from the grocery store shelf whenever I pass it. You would think this would become some sort of life lesson where from now on I would cherish the money I have and note painstakingly where every future fund will be spent. But like most people, as soon as I get cash I'm sure the entire memory of the experience will be wiped like a childhood with an overly friendly step-father. Who knows?

I'm always looking for another job but waking up at 1pm everyday from a night of surfing the Internet for porn and funny pictures hardly translates into a  "go-getter". Who knows, I'm also looking into moving out west in Canada where working like a dog actually translate into a livable paycheck. Only time will tell.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Recorded Warnings

Now, being a self-proclaimed Bad employee it is quite inevitable that I'd get a warning and/or "written up" for some acts of laziness or bravado that I am frequently found carrying out at work. So of course I wasn't phased a bit when last month I was given my first warning while working for this particular retail company.

If you've never had a job, or actually take pride in it you've probably never seen what a recorded warning looks like. Generally they are given out for more severe acts of not buying into the corporate culture or not following some printed script you're supposed to treat every situation as if it's the same with. But I'm quite the opposite. I think I've gotten warnings at every job I've ever worked. At first it made me sad, because back then I had some drunken sense of pride in making someone else rich. Eventually going to school and reading more kicked that out of my head. Which was the dumbest thing I could of done. Being having an IQ more than the outdoor temperature in winter.

But for whatever reason I started my life-long habit of getting pulled into the "little office" by some person who had traded their youth and passion for a plastic name tag, a different coloured shirt than the rest of the staff, and a phony title telling them they are important. They'd tell me how I had "failed the company" or "didn't live up to the corporate policy" and "Better show some passion". All for minimum wage mind you.
Why is it the people we pay the least we expect the most from? Can you imagine telling some dentist or carpenter that his/her work is great but to "look more happy" while they do it? You'd get told off or at least dismissed without a word. Yet it's everyday practice for these companies that try to project a happy warm and welcoming atmosphere. Meanwhile, the people who work there who did not swim on a tire from another country are absolutely miserable. Yet the former somehow sets the standard.

Anyways back to me me me! I was working a closing shift and of course there were customers left over after closing who feel getting a ShamWOW! is the most important thing to do at 10 O'Clock at night. So of course I politely try to shoo them out of the store like dust in a kitchen, but the interpret my interest as my desire to be their personal shopper. Of course this drags on as I escort them around the store. All the while my little "electric leash" aka. walkie-talkie is squaking from this big fat manager who has absolutely no clue on how to handle stress. Their asking me to go outside and collect carts. I bluntly tell them I'm too busy and turn down the volume on the walkie until I get this person out of the store.

Apparently they didn't like that as at the end of the shift again I was called into a little office. So I got the just of what was going to happen. Apparently fatty-bo-fatty took offence to me not being "a team player" and I had to be corrected on this. Ok, I've been in the fucking Army, I know how to work with others quite well. I also know how to take a person screaming in my face. That's why I turned this little pep-talk around.

When I first walked in I was asked to "Take a seat".
I replied with "I'm fine standing thank you" making two managers sit down to look up at me while they try to explain the reasons for this 'meeting'.
What followed was the usual dribble I've heard over years and has yet to change any of my bad employee behaviour. But a funny excerpt was when they said the phrase "disregarding of authority" which almost made me burst out laughing at the arrogance of a person in charge of people putting soccer balls on a shelf. 
What was funny was this fucking 'meeting' continued for like 10 minutes! It was the same non-sense over and over about being a "good" employee and other horse shit that nobody actually believes. That's when I realized how intimidated they were by me the whole time which was a combination of just staying silent yet firm and staring them down in their eyes the whole time.
The whole thing ended with a "please try better" and my non-chalant reply of "Sure, yup yup" as I walked away and out the store.

The kicker is I've yet to see this warning for me to sign in one month. So technically it's not on my file or record! They either were too intimidated to give it to me, or just plain forgot. Which is quite good for yours truly because now I've passed the three month point of working there they can't out right fire me and means a lot more paper work is required to show just how bad of an employee I can be.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Bosses/Work by Bill Hicks

A classic comedians take on working for a boss.
I do actually have a list of topics to write about, this is kinda a space filler for those waiting.
Direct link in case you can't see: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NV9rgdVmrbM

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Dane Cook is a Damn Liar

The topic of today's article is going to double as a movie review. Or rather a serious critique of how full of shit the movie 'Employee of the Month' is.

First off, we are introduced to the protagonist of the film. Mr. Zack played by the lovable and quirky Dane Cook. Putting a side all the controversy of his comedy (listen to Louis C.K's "Live in Houston" album) we'll look at him from a actors view point. The most glaring skew from reality that I can confidently say in my secure sexuality is that Dane Cook is a good looking dude. I lost it there when Hollywood tried to pass him off as a regular slacker big box employee. Look, I know I have a dark outlook on life, but that same outlook comes from being on par with reality and that I don't clog my braintubes  with useless things like vanity or religion. People who work retail are not beautiful, unless they're stupid nubile teenagers. The rest of us are out of shape monsters cast off from the set of 'Where the Wild Things Are' just trying to pull a paycheck to survive. In real life I've learned untalented beautiful people usually end up as bartenders, hooter girls, strippers, or reality TV stars.

So Zack goes about his merry way pulling shenanigans with his other employees while serving out his existence at the big box store. Wait? He has friends at work? With the amount of turn over in retail I hardly bother to learn co-workers names. I threw my own name tag in the garbage long ago (PROTIP: Never wear a name tag. Say you forgot it, lost it, etc. That way customers can't complain about your shitty service). And the people who stay around? Those are the people who "Enjoy" their job. What kind of lunatic could enjoy this work? Even the store managers hate their job, and they make at least 50K a year doing the work. Are you depressed and a bit suicidal working retail? Good. That's because you're not supposed to enjoy this shitty work, your brain is telling you something.

But Zack goes on, living in a big house and showing absolutely no financial trouble what so ever. Meanwhile, I spent the last two days scrounging for cans to recycle for cash and then had to decided how to spend my last $20 between gas for my car, groceries, and cigarettes to deal with it all. I ended up pawning somestuff for cash. But not in this movie. Money is no object or motivator for these employees.

So they go about their work. And again another unlikely situation where a woman Amy who is hot as JESSICA SIMPSON (pre-fat cow body) in the movie who comes to work for the store. As I mentioned above, this does not happen in retail. Chicks desperate enough for money who are that hot usually end up in something geared towards their looks. Be it waitress, stripper, "model", actress, or whatever allows them to parley their sexuality into cash. Because this goes into one life lesson I've seen all my life. Hot girls like this generally get stuff handed to them, or at least guys give them whatever they like in hopes of sexual favours in return (whether the girls know it or not). This builds up over a life time and the concept of hard work/labour is completely gone by the time they hit this age. Again it's Hollywood nonsense portrayed as fact.

The protagonist in the film is Vince (played by Dax Shepard) who is actually the most realistic depiction of an employee. He's deceitful, self-serving, and dishonest in his attempts to move up one spot on the employee ladder. Completely realistic! Fantastically captured essence of not just the 'evil' employee, but pretty much any other "successful" person in retail. Good job Hollywood you have certainly succeeded here!
He even has a immigrant side kick Jorge (Efren Ramirez)! Now we're getting closer to the real deal.

Shenanigans ensue, and for some reason Zack decides he wants to be great at his job to sleep with this cashier Amy. So he clamps down and starts taking his job well above the accepted minimum that I would put in for work and starts his quest towards the coveted 'Employee of the Month'. Ok, let's step back. All this for some pussy. Has this guy not heard of hookers? And from experience I can assure you that telling late-20s females that you work retail is the dating world equivalent of "I have HIV, stay away unless you got T-cells to spare". So instead of using this new found motivation to say...get an actual job or at least plan a bank heist. He goes off trying to win the heart of a cashier by showing 'work ethic'. The most underrated aphrodisiac on the planet. I mean having been in the Army I know I was flooded with panties after working 3 days straight with no sleep or showers...oh wait...I wasn't because it translates to nothing in the sexual realm.

Eventually the two mannequins go on a date costing less then $12 and for some reason she is impressed by this. All the while Vince and Jorge are doing illegal matters like breaking and entering into Zack's house, not to steal shit to pay their own bills, but to play silly pranks (A good justification to police I'm sure). Eventually. Zack's devotion to getting laid by playing the 'long game' soon pays off but stir in some "OH my god" it was a bet" drama, followed by the break up/get back together drama with his closeted homosexual friends, Zack soon comes back from the edge. I won't ruin the ending for you. But it's pretty typical and a single speech wins back the heart and changes the mind of Sugar Tits Amy and they live happily ever after.

Yet, having only retail experience in their late-20s which is just the main ingredient to a quick murder-suicide in some trailer park six years later when the DNA test comes back negative for Zack as the father before she can she run off with some rich lawyer abandoning the kids to abject poverty and no college fund in sight. Or at least that's how I'd write it.

Whatever. It'll make you laugh. Just take a grain of salt before you think it translate it at all to real life.
*grumble grumble grumble*

Saturday, January 8, 2011

A Quiet Day In the Warehouse

First, let me point out about how a well run department store gets all it's goodies and gives them to you. Generally all the little treats that customers fight over come in on a truck. Then there are the warehouse guys who help the drivers load it off the truck. Then the warehouse guys scan the item or at least it's box which puts it in our inventory then send it on a little conveyor belt where it gets put away by other warehouse guys. These guys then dolly or carry the box to its respective place in the warehouse shelves where I the floor employee can pick it up if the floor space is empty.

Now that's how it should work. But at our store it usually happens like this. The truck shows up late, the warehouse guys scan all the boxes, then place them in a big pile, then they get unpaid (yes unpaid) high school teenagers to put the boxes away. These guys "work" at our store cause of some co-op scam the managers arranged with their school for them to learn "job skills", I've yet to see them learn or demonstrate any. But I don't blame them one bit I mean the only thing worse than working for my store would be doing it for free (although they do get paid for working weekends... below minimum wage).So it's hardly surprising that the "in theory" organization of our warehouse is completely disorganized. Funny how a main component of a companies operating system rests a critical point task on unpaid workers.

For one, the company refuses to change its inventory system. Now I worked for this same retail store 8 years ago when I was going through University hence why I am very good technical-wise at my job and don't get fired for being lazy (cause I'm incredibly knowledgeable).Since that time they've yet to change the system. It literally still runs on Green monochrome EGA monitors. God knows when it was actually a "new" system so I'm guessing it's probably 20 years old by now roughly.

So the guys in charge of organizing the warehouse are unpaid high school students who are operating off a "run out the clock" playbook which usually translates into dumping said box where ever there's an open spaces. Which again I understand completely. I do it when I have to "return" pesky items I don't know or care where they are on the shelf and I usually throw it on the upper shelves or behind a bunch of other items. Hey if it looks good the bosses don't care so why should I.

So all of this not giving a fuck translates into one big fucking mess of a warehouse where instead of being organized, things are just kinda "in an area". This excellent business model translates very well for a bad employee like myself and actually makes spending 30 minutes in the warehouse believable to my boss when I know we are either out of the item or its filed away in a corner no where near where it should be. However on the opposite side it makes it very frustrating when I'm looking for an item for a "good customer" and I have to tear through mountains of crap to find an item. I've actually done this looking for a large item that the inventory said we had 70 of yet they were no where to be seen. Oh well, I guess it's back to lying to customers, an essential survival tool for dealing with poor management.