Help Me With My Homework

Only four days left until I'm on vacation. I hadn't really thought about it until today when my boss, in a moment of uncharacteristic cordiality, asked me if I was excited about my upcoming trip. Suddenly realizing I wouldn't have to see her for an entire ten days, I was excited. I was ecstatic! And I made the mistake of saying so. I should have known better than to express joy.

Turns out it's time for my yearly review and I have to assess my performance using a questionnaire and checklist. Having me fill this out is a joke. We both know I'm horrible. I haven't improved in any areas. I haven't reached any goals. The only one I had was to not be working at Walmart anymore. Apparently I'm supposed to reflect on the past year and score myself in categories like hating unions and rolling back prices. Then I have to add up all my scores and divide by three, or something. I have to do math! With that in mind, I guess I already know what my score is going to be. Every item is scored out of five so...

-Consults and cooperates with the safety committee. We have a safety committee? Who knew? 5 out of 5.
-Meets deadlines. Ha! As if this was a real job with real deadlines. One time there was a sign on the fridge in the staff room saying the fridges would be cleaned the following Tuesday and to remove any of your belongings you didn't want thrown out. I missed that deadline and they threw out my yogurt. Whatever. 5 out of 5.
-Uses or wears protective equipment or devices as required. I put on rubber gloves when I have to touch clothes that ugly people have tried on. 5 out of 5.
-Exhibits sense of urgency. When it's time for my break, I make it clear to customers that it's extremely urgent that I get the hell out of there. ASAP. 5 out of 5.
-Asks questions. Why are we always so understaffed? How come we don't get any benefits? Who do I have to sleep with around here to get a raise? 5 out of 5.
-Works in a manner that does not endanger themselves or others. Every day that I don't cut someone is a good day. 5 out of 5.

You're a Shining Star

It's awards season at Walmart. Nominations are now being collected for the coveted Shining Star Award which rewards excellence in customer service and not getting fired. Rumours have been circulating that this year's winner will have their photo taken and then the photo will be taped to a star cut out of yellow construction paper. If the budget allows, the star will have glitter on it. God, I want it so bad I can taste it! The walls of the staff lounge are plastered with dozens of glowing recommendations and believe it or not, there's not a single one for me! Obviously my boss has been going through the nominations and throwing out all of mine. She simply refuses to let me shine. Until my nominations start rolling in, I have been reading obsessively what makes my chosen co-workers sooooo special. A common phrase in many of the nominator's testimonials is "goes above and beyond". No one can tell me I don't go above and beyond! How many times have I been working in the lingerie department when an old lady comes up to me and says, "I need you to help me find a certain bra." I am very polite, "And which bra is that?""This one" and they hoist their shirt up. If, by some miracle, I am able to stare long enough to identify the bra they're wearing and then find it in the store, I still have to deal with the inevitable "be a dear and check what size I'm wearing". I am not equipped with tongs or a long stick or anything to retrieve these measurements. Feeling up seniors = "above and beyond". If someone asks me to check the size on their underwear, I stand behind them, poke them with a hanger and just guess.

"Team player" also apparently describes many of the nominees. I'm sure I must have, at some point, described myself as a team player to get this job. I may have even believed it was true. But in reality, I once refused to cover for the door greeter because it's cold by the door, even though she's 73 and needed to take her pills.

It's okay. I don't want their stupid Shining Star Award anyway. No, I'm serious. I really don't.


According to Walmart, there are Five Principles of Apparel. As a fashion sales associate, I should know what they are and apply them to my work. I even have a badge that lists all the principles and snaps conveniently behind my name tag. I've actually only used the badge once- to pick broccoli out of my teeth, but I guess I must have skimmed over the words because something my boss said the other day sounded familiar. She said, "Kathleen, has anyone ever taught you about The Color Story?" Showing a Color Story - it was Principle #4 on my almost totally useless badge. If she was surprised to hear that I hadn't managed to pick up this very basic information over the course of two and a half years she hid it well. As a ten year Walmart management veteran she's naturally very practiced in dealing with incompetence and apathy.

She started out in the women's junior section showing me how the shirts along the wall alternate between purple and green and then how each rack showcases these colors on the ends, purple, green, purple, green.

"Ok, purple, green, purple, green. Got it."
"Good"
"So what's The Story?"
"That's it. That's The Color Story."

Now maybe I should have known better than to expect anything more. But when I hear "story" I'm expecting a little drama, a plotline at the very least. I'm no English major, oh wait, yes I am, and so I think I know a story when I hear one. And purple, green, purple, green is not a story.

"So...it's really more of a color scheme than a color story."
"Yes. A color scheme or a color story."

This didn't sit well with me at all. So...

Quiet and reflective, Purple tended to go unnoticed. That is, until the day Green came along. Purple and Green had much in common and complemented each other beautifully. They fell easily in love.

Purple's mother, Red was horrified when she found out about Purple's relationship with Green. She demanded Purple stop seeing him immediately. This only made Purple want him more.

Purple and Green had been seeing each other for some time when she visited his home for the first time and was introduced to his parents, Blue and Yellow. When Red heard about this meeting, she sat Purple down and told her they needed to have a talk.

"Purple, before you were born I lead a very colorful life. I left home very young because I clashed with my folks. I wanted to escape. I think I tried every drug in the spectrum...it's not important now. But I got mixed up with a lot of different characters, including Green's father. Purple, there's no easy way to tell you this. Blue is your father."
"But that means..."
"Yes. Green is your brother."

That's a color story.

Christmas is a comin'!

Should I be worried that I haven't done any Christmas shopping yet? It's only 17 days til Christmas! Yikes! At work today, I was sweeping out the fitting rooms and I found someone's Christmas shopping list. She had a list of names, some with a few gift suggestions penciled in but most names just had question marks next to them. At the bottom she had written "Me" and underneath was a very impressive list: jeans, gloves (black, brown), sexy boots, belt...and it went on and on. I laughed because that's pretty much what my Christmas list looks like.

I'm so glad I put in my request for days off work at Christmas way back in October. I thought they would just say no, so I was surprised to see that I'm free from the 23rd to the 28th. So I'll get to spend a bit of time with the family. My parents are still trying to recover from all my conflicting announcements, "I'm quitting my job", "No I'm not", "I'm moving to New Zealand", "Never mind, I'm staying here". So I'll try my best not to confuse anyone over the holidays.

Future: Undecided

Thanks to everyone who voted in the "Where should Kathleen go?" poll. The results are in and it looks like the winner is Australia and New Zealand with 60% of the vote. That's the same thing I chose! So after hardly any thought, I handed in the SWAP (Student Work Abroad Program) application for the South Pacific combo, paid the hefty non-refundable fee, and less than two days later, completely changed my mind. I should have known better when, on my way to apply for the program, the little voice in my head said Don't do it! But the little voice offered no alternative life plan, so I did it anyway. It's not that I don't want to go; I definitely do and still plan to (especially if I can't get my money back). I just think it's the wrong time. The decision came as a result of one bad day, deciding I needed a change, and going a little overboard. I included "stay at Wal-mart" in my poll as a joke answer, but ha ha, the joke's on me because that's what I'm doing. I've already survived three Wal-mart Christmases. One more won't kill me. And now that the stress of moving is gone, I'm actually excited about Christmas. I'm relieved. Maybe I'm too old for adventure. Maybe Wal-mart is secretly drugging me. Either way, it felt too rushed. I need more time to plan and get excited about it. I'm going to leave major decision making for after Christmas.

Moving On

I hate when people interfere with my schedule so I was pretty pissed at work today when my lunch break had to be postponed because the guy who got caught stealing hundreds of dollars worth of DVDs (mostly Indiana Jones) decided to go insane and try to stab people with a dirty needle. Similar events happen often enough that I question the wisdom of having the security office/interrogation room/beating area so close to where we're expected to eat lunch. There's always some lunatic standing between me and my food. One time a crackhead ran through our lunch room trying to escape and often our friendly lunchtime conversations are punctuated with screaming and cursing from the hall. Today, Indiana Crackhead was finally subdued enough to allow for my safe passage to the fridge. I shot him dirty looks as I went by but I covered my name badge in case he was lucid enough to add me to his list of enemies. If only all the shoplifters behaved like last week's Hemorrhoid Guy, whose only crime was stealing a tube of Preparation H. When asked if it would have been less embarrassing just to buy it, he answered "Yes. Yes it would" and shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench reserved for the guilty.

Not that I don't cherish my days with these weirdos but I've decided to end my two and half year relationship with Wal-mart. My tentative last day is December 20. Since a million things could happen between now and then, I have only told a few people at work I'm leaving because nothing would be more embarrassing than having to stay after I hand in my resignation, tell off my boss, and punch a customer in the face, which is how I intend to go out.

Lofty Goals

My Wal-mart shifts these days are mostly weekdays during the day. I don't know if I can handle these daytime workers. They take their jobs so seriously. I've always thought the daytime staffers were really rude to customers. Now I understand why. You just get so involved in your little tasks. Put hook in wall, put socks on hook, put hook in wall, put socks on hook. You develop a pleasing rhythm. Then a customer comes and asks you about a bra and you want to say "Can't you see I'm doing socks?! I can't think about bras right now! Geez!" The daytime staff would have conniption fits if they knew how little work the evening/weekend workers do. The last night I worked I spent two hours talking to a co-worker, not even talking while we worked, just talking. Then I needed garlic fingers and we spent an hour ordering, waiting for, and eating the garlic fingers. I don't normally need garlic fingers but I did that night because I was still drunk from spending the afternoon on a Class of 2008 library technician pub crawl. Us library folk love our booze.

My "new" job generates a lot of waste. After I empty 30 boxes of pantyhose and mittens, I'm left with a huge stack of cardboard and a big bag of plastic bags. Disposing of this garbage is the most traumatic part of my day. The cardboard goes in the baler, a big terrifying squashing machine. It's okay if I can just throw the cardboard in and run away, but if it's full, I have to turn the machine on. I'm always scared there might be someone in there. However unlikely, it is technically possible. I don't understand why if it contains only cardboard, it makes a sound like crushing bones. The plastic is to be thrown into a giant recycling bin, the opening of which is at the height of a two storey building. Do you know how much a bag of plastic bags weighs? Like 5 ounces. The first day I tried throwing a nearly weightless bag that high, I knew it was impossible. The warehouse guys, who were there unloading a truck, stopped working long enough to offer tips and laugh like I was the funniest thing that happened all week. After it stopped being funny (approximately seven tries) someone finally did it for me. The next day I worked on my technique when no one was there and today I did it in one try! I victory punched the air. Then I decided I should maybe work on setting higher goals for myself and possibly even start applying for other jobs.

That's Not a Knife

Shorty's shopping spree at Wal-mart has also opened up some interesting new challenges at work now that I know the security guards a little better. They are constantly in need of volunteers. Whenever a woman is caught shoplifting, a female staff member has to go sit with them in the security office until the police arrive. It's basically a half hour break. The first couple of times were a breeze, the culprits scared 14-year-olds. The older she-thieves are a bit more challenging. One woman offered me a twenty dollar bribe to distract the security guards. Another time, a crackhead demanded to know if I was going to testify against her. And most recently, a drunk woman, who assaulted both the security guys, kept getting up from her bench and casually wandering around casing the exit like she was going to make a run for it. I was a nervous wreck by the time she finally got dealt with. I keep doing it though. I like their crazy stories.

I got a fake promotion. I use the term promotion loosely because there is no increase in pay, just an increase in responsibility and hassle. I'm now in charge of the accessories (purses, luggage, socks, belts etc.) department. Today I was given my own knife for cutting open boxes. This is a big deal. Not just anyone gets a knife. The knife distributor woman is very stingy. She also told me I had to watch an instructional video before I could use the knife. It's a good thing I didn't laugh because she was serious. I didn't have time to watch the video today so she made me promise twice that I would watch it tomorrow.