Addendum

In my previous post I discussed the promotion situation at the store, and my decision to leave. Here's a tactical consideration. Any promotion that I may happen to get, by luck or by brown-nose, will inevitably place me in a position that will require closer proximity to "Mz. Waffleboot."

Because the company adores the results she delivers, not to mention the fact that I doubt any corporate executive wants her arrogant, abrasive keister anywhere near them, I suspect she's not going to be going anywhere else any time soon. Since I absolutely detest the person, just like over half the store does, my only choice is to leave and go elsewhere, if I want to make any professional progress.

That being said, I now have to set about the task of rebuilding a decent resume, and start my campaigning. That's going to take some time, given the fact that when I left the bank I worked at earlier, it wasn't on pleasant terms. Finding a bank company who is willing to look past all the libel and slander from that former employer is going to be a challenge. If I had time and money, I'd take them to court, but I have neither so I have to focus instead upon selling myself.

Pawn One, to Bishop's Knight 3. Checkmate.

I talk and brag about the Power Game. I can comment upon it very insightfully and shrewdly, like a retired has-been football star commenting upon the NFL, but my ability to actually PLAY the game effectively...well...quite simply SUCKS. Over and over, I end up allowing other people to push my buttons, control me, sidetrack me, backstab me, and ruin any prospects I may have developed.

They finally announced that the position I had applied for several months ago had been filled, and they introduced us to some guy they hired from outside to fill it. I withdrew my candidacy earlier because one night I realized the position would put me in continual proximity to "Mz. Waffleboot." THAT is a prospect I most definitely did NOT relish.

It didn't actually matter WHAT my candidacy was, anyway. Sources tell me that management processed my candidacy only as a formality, only to buy time until someone they really wanted showed up, which he did just recently. I don't mind that, really -- I knew before I started the application process that it was a long shot. I only wish they had the human decency to get back to me and tell me politely that I'm not what they're looking for, instead of leaving me hanging for months and letting the store gossip about it the whole time.

In another situation, people from a certain other department spoke to me frequently about the prospect of joining THEIR team. They really wanted me, which I deeply appreciate, and told me they would lobby for me if I pursued the matter. Later I discovered two interesting factors. The supervisor of the team did not share her subordinate's enthusiasm for bringing me on board, and I found out that a friend who I regard fairly highly had his heart set upon that position also, far more than any interest I may have had in it. I decided not to pursue the position because I really like my friend. I wanted to see him happy, which he really is, now that they gave him the spot.

I have to confess here that over the last month or so I have been a sort of gad-fly for the shop. My patience for other people's b.s. is really wearing thin, and I'm starting to spout my mouth off more and more. I know I'm wrong for the time and place of my words, but I also know that I'm completely correct about the CONTENT of my words. Other people have secretly told me they agree with me. The problem is that if I continue yapping my big mouth, I'm going to drive myself right out of a job, or at the very least ruin all hope of getting anywhere in this or any other company.

I know it is for that reason over the last month or so I've been seeing all sorts of people get promoted all around me, while I remain in the same place. My wife is going to school, so I can only work in the evenings, and that is also a factor which hampers me. As I mentioned in a previous post, spiritual guidance has prompted me very firmly that it is time to leave. I don't even have enough status at the store to rate the privilege of keeping my coffee cup next to the coffee machine in the break room without somebody stealing it or throwing it out ( I have to keep it under the counter, in a box with my name on it in big letters. Jesus -- I'm in freakin' kindergarten again.)

I really would like to know what I had to do to earn some respect somewhere. I'm willing to work long and hard, I'm willing to be honest, dependable, and humble. I'm willing to ignore any and all stupid, unethical, or illegal things managers do. I'm willing to keep my mouth shut.

I'm NOT willing to be condescended upon or patronized for the rest of my life. I really wish I knew what to do next.

Mabye, Just Maybe, There's Hope for America.

The other day they had me working the toy section again. I was zoning along in the aisles as usual, when a blue eyed, lively little blonde girl of 10 or so came to find me. She was pushing her little baby brother in her stroller.

She was a bright, happy, cheerful, wholesome and gorgeous child, the kind you knew was destined to become captain of the cheer squad, be voted most popular, and go on to become a super model or Miss America.

I expected her to ask me where the Barbies or the teddy bears were located. Please forgive me for having been led by stereotypes. What she asked for instead surprised the daylights out of me. She spoke in a cheerful, clear, confident, and very mature way.

"Sir, do you carry any microscopes here?"

Say What?

"Do you carry any microscopes? I saw on your corporate website online that you had some here in the store."

Confident, cyber literate, articulate, and interested in science. [Non Sequitur. Does not compute.] I took her to the section where we carried a line of science toys with the National Geographic brand name. She was VERY happy. Happier than a tornado in a trailer park. Happier than a Wal Mart security executive throwing smoke bombs on a crowd of union organizers in a store parking lot.

She gushed on and on about the planetarium sets we had. "This would be so awesome in my room! Look, it's even got the proper configuration of the planets, with Pluto orbiting inside of Neptune's orbit during a retrograde phase of its eliptical!"

"I take it you're interested in Science?"

"Yup! that's me! I confess, I'm a major science geek...."

She put down the planetarium, grabbed the microscope set, and turned around to go find her mother. Her long, blonde, cheerleader hair bobbed about as she went. I stood there, thinking. I thought some more. I wiped a tear from my eye, and I prayed to God that the young lady would be able to carry her love of science all the way through the materialism and confusion of youth, and go on to do something great for our world. I went to find her mother.

"Ma'am, please allow me to compliment you on your most exceptional child." Her daughter came up and kept chattering on about the microscope. "yeah, right ......tell me about it....."

"Ease His Pain..."

This evening while dealing with yet another asthma-inducing scene of intense aggravation at work, I felt peace wash over me. A gentle voice told me that my days there are finished -- it is time to move on.

It's one of those over-quoted, Kevin Costner "Field of Dreams" moments, when inspiration comes to you in a way that is calm and quiet, but very unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

It's one of those moments when "all the cosmic tumblers click into place, and the universe opens up to show you what's possible." I hesitate to use that quote because it's all over the Internet; trite and hackneyed. Everyone and their uncle and their uncle's dog has used it on their website at one time or another, yet there's no other way to adequately explain the experience. What else can I say? The Akashic Records have spoken, just as I asked for them to, in a previous post.

The time has come for "Big Red" and I to part ways. I've been in denial continually; now I must call a spade, a spade. The "Coffee Cup War" should have been my first clue. My interests are better served elsewhere.

Just exactly how I'm going to find that "elsewhere" is the problem. I'm hoping, like Ray Kinsella in the movie, that things will work out in the end, if I follow the promptings of my inner spirit.

Yeah, I'd Like To Hear An Answer, Too...

S. S. D. D. (Same @#$% Different Day)

Naturally, they made me waste my time today completing tasks that should have been finished by the day people before the evening shift got there. Little miss "Suzie Q," who is nothing more than an Equal Opportunity token, was on a rampage of "stand and point" management, as usual. I had to answer continual calls for back-up to the front lanes, I had to watch the camera counter for "W"s lunch, and I had to entirely re-set an endcap. All of which I don't mind, but if they want me to finish my zone before the end of the night, they need to allow me some time to do it.

I was not able to start my zone until 9 o'clock. Of course Chris, whose mouth is big enough for my to place my foot firmly within, did nothing about gripe and moan about how he had to come help me finish my zone, and about all the returns I still had left to do. I called the Hardlines team leader over and I told him that if Chris didn't shut up on his own, I would do it for him.

In addition to that, I've been seeing several people in the store get promoted, and I'm still stuck in the same position I started in, even though I've really bent over backwards to try and do the best job that I can, the whole time I've been there. The last time I applied for an opening, I had to interview with four different people, and they never got back to me to tell me yes or no. The left me hanging there like a complete idiot, all the while the whole store was gossiping like a ladies' tea club about my effort to get the position. All the other contenders for the position have since left the company, and I'm the only one remaining that I know of who had expressed any interest in it, yet still nothing.

They've been making perform the duties of the position more and more, as much as three or four shifts out of the week, yet I still have no title or any increase in pay. If they don't want me, that's fine and I can accept that. What I don't like is being made to perform the duties of the position without any recognition. THAT really pisses me off.

As the old Navajo proverb says, when one is lost and can't find the way, turn within. It's high time I dusted off my B.O.S. and consulted The Akashic Records. We'll see what the Universal Forces of Justice have to say about all this.

Syndrome Tells It Like It Is.

"...I learned an important lesson. You can't count on anyone, ESPECIALLY your heroes. See? NOW you respect me, because I'm a THREAT. That's the way the world works. Turns out there are a lot of people, whole countries who want respect, and they will pay through the nose to get it. How do you think I got rich?"

The Real Reasons I Take Dammitol.

You know those anti-depressant commercials where they roll out a long list of side effects at the end, like "anal leakage?" Check out this Flash Video.

Drugs I Need | Funny Jokes at JibJab

Wisest Is He Who Knows He Does Not Know

After all the bragging I've done about workplace politics in previous posts, I must make a confession here. There is one game that has troubled me all of my life, and still troubles me to this day. My mother and my wife both use it on me, and like a sucker I fall for it every single time. It's like a preprogrammed button with me. I am referring, of course, to the "poor suffering martyr" game.

Basically it goes like this: specific persons who are expert at this game figure out that I'm a hot head. Then they do little things to bug the ever living @#$% outta me, and n0 matter how long I try to be quiet and patient, they just keep it up until I blow my stack. Then, THEN is where the zinger comes. They whine, moan about, and shed tears about how picked upon they are, and they use my outburst as proof that I'm a terribly evil axe-murder-maniac-destined-for-the-gas-chamber type monster. They go out of their way to use and exaggerate my own faulty behavior to draw as much sympathy as they can for themselves.

As I point my finger at these people, I realize that five more of my own fingers are pointing back at me. If the game is to be broken, I am the only person who can take responsibility for my own behavior. I must break the response cycle. And there's the rub. No matter how hard I try, I still have yet to succeed at it. These people burrow under my shell, push my buttons, and have me acting like an idiot lightning fast, faster than I can consciously realize what's happening and try to stop my own behavior.

The reason I mention this is that in the previous few days I have seen members of the Soft Lines Department at my store use this game with the skillful grace of Judo masters. They used it on me, then I watched them use it on two other people besides me. For this reason I have nicknamed them the "poor way-faring souls of grief department" because of how well they play this game.

At the very least, I can say that now I know who to steer clear of. The uber-crazy drama-queens of the department reveal themselves to me every time they play this game. They may be able to lay low and camouflage themselves amongst the crowd for awhile, but once I see someone play this game on another employee, I know instantly who I need to watch out for. I guess that's about the only way I can beat the game.

Zombie Retail Worker: News at 11.

My allergies were really bothering me today. When that happens, typically I can't get out of bed all day, and when I wake up just before my evening shift, I look and feel like something that crawled out of a 1950's B-grade thriller movie.

My face is usually ashen, my eyes usually are all blood shot and my eyelids and upper cheeks are swollen red. Add to that the dead tired, frumpy expression I have on my face and I look terrible. I don't dare take very much allergy medicine because they cause me to have kidney stones.

Naturally, when I get to the store and people give me looks usually reserved for someone who has just been shot or lost an arm or something. Everybody asks me if I'm alright, and when I tell them I'm fine, they don't believe me.

I try really hard to give great guest service, but on days like today it's next to impossible for me to think coherently because my head is in such a fog. I'll be standing there watching a customer describe what she needs, I see her lips move, I know somehow that she's speaking English, but for the life of me I can't understand and/or remember what she says. So I have to give generalized answers, send her over to where I hope the product might be, and pray another team member can help her.

I tell you what -- if some chemist somewhere can invent something that could completely wipe away my allergies, without any side-effects whatsoever, I'll be the first to sign any petition to have him/her knighted, sainted, and given a Nobel Prize.

Monkey Business Management Secret #16

An easily-understood, workable falsehood is more useful than a complex, incomprehensible truth.

Special Retail Problem Solving Procedure

WorkPlace Windows

High Priority Memo

TO: ALL EMPLOYEES
FR: MANAGEMENT
RE: SPECIAL HIGH INTENSITY TRAINING

In order to assure the highest levels of quality work and productivity from employees, it will be our policy to keep all employees well trained through our program of SPECIAL HIGH INTENSITY TRAINING (S.H.I.T.). We are trying to give employees more S.H.I.T. than anyone else.

If you feel that you do not receive your share of S.H.I.T. on the job, please see your manager. You will be immediately placed at the top of the S.H.I.T. list, and our managers are especially skilled at seeing that you get all the S.H.I.T. you can handle.

Employees who don't take their S.H.I.T. will be placed in DEPARTMENTAL EMPLOYEE EVALUATION PROGRAMS (D.E.E.P. S.H.I.T.). Those who fail to take D.E.E.P. S.H.I.T. seriously will have to go to EMPLOYEE ATTITUDE TRAINING (E.A.T. S.H.I.T.). Since our managers took S.H.I.T. before they were promoted, they don't have to do S.H.I.T. anymore, and are all full of S.H.I.T. already.

If you are full of S.H.I.T., you may be interested in a job training others. We can add your name to our BASIC UNDERSTANDING LECTURE LIST (B.U.L.L. S.H.I.T.). Those who are full of B.U.L.L. S.H.I.T. will get the S.H.I.T. jobs, and can apply for promotion to DIRECTOR OF INTENSITY PROGRAMMING (D.I.P. S.H.I.T.).

If you have further questions, please direct them to our HEAD OF TRAINING, SPECIAL HIGH INTENSITY TRAINING (H.O.T. S.H.I.T.).

Thank you,

BOSS IN GENERAL
SPECIAL HIGH INTENSITY TRAINING
(B.I.G. S.H.I.T.)

What...does it SHOW?

Target Blows.

Why are there no Wal-Marts in Iraq?

Because they're all Targets.

Bad Day Medicine.

One of the absolute detestable BANES of the retail existence is the so-called "ad setup." Mention that word and people literally run the other way.

Most big box retailers will have one to three persons specifically hired to print off, sort, and sleeve the little signs that get placed on the shelf to designate sale items shown in the ad circular that gets put in the paper. In a fairly large store like the one I work in that's a job which can take almost all week.

At my store we've been limping along for several weeks without a regularly assigned person. Mz. Waffleboot succeeded in running off the last two or three people we tried to keep to do the job. This week the ad was exceptionally large, and management didn't fully realize the scope of what had to be done. Needless to say, Thursday through Saturday each department had teams of people seperating, sorting, and sleeving handbasket-fulls of ad signs, desperately trying to get it all done before 5 a.m. Sunday morning, when they were scheduled to be put up.

Naturally, this was my week to be one of the sorry suckers who have to come in a 5 a.m. Sunday morning to put all the signs up. Needless to say, the whole process was a cluster-#@$%& from beginning to end. Everything was all mixed up, and we had to spend valuable time re-sorting. There was only three of us working the set up, so we had to steal people from other departments. We didn't get done until well after Noon, and we were supposed to be done by 8 a.m.

When I got home at 2 p.m. I took some medicine and went to bed.

Dammit.

'nuff Said Already.

This -N- That, #5

HELL HATH NO FURY... Outside the store I work at, along the front sidewalk, there are large metal spheres embedded into the concrete, colored red (naturally, I work for "Big Red," as opposed to "Big Blue.") A couple of days ago some pregnant lady got really, REALLY mad at her boyfriend in the parking lot, and tried to run him over. The lady ran the car up on the sidewalk and knocked into one of the big metal spheres. Then she launched into him. A Flow-team supervisor was taking a break outside and saw the whole thing. We had to call the cops, and they took the lady away kicking and screaming. They booked her for "attempted" something or other, and she's cooling her heels in the klink even as I write this.

HELL HATH NO FURY, part 2...."K" is the manager of our Asset Protection team. She's normally a somewhat quiet, unassuming person. Thieves and perps misjudge her frequently. The day before yesterday, "K" had been tailing a shoplifter who attempted to leave the store with a purse filled to the brim with expensive clothes. The lady shoplifter thought that "K" was going to be a push-over and tried to resist the capture. BIG MISTAKE. Fifteen minutes and a couple of good bruises later, the thief b* was sitting handcuffed to the rail in the A.P. office, while "K" quietly filled out her reports. Special warning to criminal scum in Oklahoma City: Don't be messin' with The "K."

SHE'S CERTAINLY A "HEALTY YOUTH....." Today was "Tax-Free" day in Oklahoma City. Young mothers were out in force buying back-to-school stuff in the store today, and quite a good number of them were, shall we say, fairly "healthy" looking. Not to mention the millions of curvy college co-eds who came out to buy school supplies and dorm furnishings. My co-worker "W" and I were discussing the scenery when my supervisor "K" (the OTHER "K") came up and asked us how things were going. We hemmed and hawed, and told her jokingly that we were discussing the beautiful scenery out doors in this lovely weather today.

SHE'S A HOT TAMALE....MUY CALIENTE....speaking of my co-worker "W," I forgot to mention that he has a deep and thorough fondness for lovely Latina ladies. It's to the point of obsession, almost. My buddy "J" in the Asset Protection department knows about this, and never misses an opportunity to torment the hell out of "W" over it. Fairly often "J" will walk past where "W" is working and leave behind a bottle of salsa or tobasco sauce. Sometime he'll throw Dora The Explorer pillow dolls at him.