Out of the Ashes...

Fun at work...and I think I now know why

Working at Walmart has become...fun. No really, it has! A few things are testament to that.

The first is my relations with most of my co-workers - save the one I mentioned in an earlier entry. There’s what’s called a Merchandise Supervisor (MS for short). She’s tiny little thing named Kristi...but call her that and she’ll kick your ankle (that’s as high as she can reach *snicker*). Since she’s so short, of course, I cannot resist pointing that out - time and time again. Thankfully she has a sense of humor coupled with my having a work ethic. Otherwise, I’d probably be hoofing it looking for another gig. *ahem* In reality, all joking aside, I do have a nickname for her: Boss. Imaginative, huh? Hey, look... That’s all my muddled brain could come up with as I was adjusting to those dreaded early mornings. She’s fun, and gives back right at me as much as I hand out. Gotta respect a boss like that.

There’s also some kid named Derek. Nineteen years young, hard worker, very responsible kid. He works two jobs, and now has a baby on the way. He gave us the news without looking freaked out. Good one, he is. He’ll be a great dad, I can see it. Well, since I am his PARENTS age (literally), it’s my duty to abuse him properly to keep him in line. Okay, I admit it - it’s because he reminds me of how aged I’m becoming. Just to give you a clue as to how close in age to his nineteen year old’s mom and dad I am...his mother is 40, his dad 41. MY son is 8, and I’m 42. I’ve met more than my share at this place my age who have teenage kids (or those int heir early 20's). The only ones I really have anything in common with child-wise are those half my age.

ARGH!

Finally, there’s a very odd man by the name of...Bob. Twenty-six, Bob is, and he’s getting married in September. The more I get to know Bob, the more I realize he and his intended are polar opposites (gender-wise) of Barb and myself. With the latter, I was the Alpha personality, she the more passive type. With Bob and his soon-to-be-slavemaster, it’s the other way around. Here’s another rather strange similarity - HE has the red hair, she the brownish. Just like looking into the past AND at a mirror...which reverses gender (if that makes sense, I’ll give you a dime - maybe). It’s very odd, yet also very revealing. Of course, I cannot help it but scare the little quiet man about what he’s in for.

Bob is a good man, quite honestly. To his face, I say “kinda girlie.” Then again, that’d probably make his fiancee kinda manly...and from what I know about her, if I enjoy living, I won’t ever go there. Anyway, I can tell Bob has doubts, so instead of being a pal I just bring those doubts out for him to feel in spades. Why? Well, marriage is a huge step, and I want Bob to be sure they’re making the right choice in one another. You see, they really do remind me of me and Barb. There were signs early on (meaning before we were hitched) that the wedded bliss wouldn’t work out as we imagined, and there are the same signs with this younger couple.

Bob and I get along really well. He may seem quiet and unassuming, but really...he’s not. He’s kinda geeky, which I liked right off, and he has a razor sharp wit to give back what I deal out. I can’t help but like him. However, perhaps I did too well with my “bring them doubts out and face ‘em” attitude...because...he told his woman. And...she wants to have a few words with me IF I don’t begin balancing all that otu with SOMETHING positive. Hmmm... So, like the wuss that I really am deep inside, especially when faced by a strong woman nearly HALF my age, I did as requested. And get this - I’ve haven’t met her yet.

Intimidating chick, she is. Yeah... I think I’m gonna like her, too.

I had a serious chat with Bob, letting him know my seeming negativity toward marriage was not in fact how I think about the institution. I let him know that my ex and I do get along and are as close friends as we can be. I also let him know that over half of the marital problems were caused by me, the rest by her reactions, and both had made a poor choice based on love alone (no logic, no building of trust and respect first). We moved too fast. We’d dated barely a year before tying the proverbial knot. Heck, I’m surprised it lasted a decade and a half, really.

So, anyway, since he and his girl have been together OVER three years AND have lived together part of that time AND still desire to make it a committed union...AND...they kinda act married right now...they should be fine. They have enough time figuring one another out and figured out how to balance one another out. He was relieved to hear me say that.

Of course, I ended that with a hearty slap to his shoulder and quipped, “So, Bob, you should have no problems adjusting from being an unmarried slave to being her wedded bitch. Just don’t let her buy a strap-on, ya know?”

He nodded, smiled, and thanked me again. *LOL* Ain’t I a good pal?

That my immediate crew. There are others in other departments that seem to get a kick out of coming over to OUR department for some nice verbal slap-stick. Another MS named Brandon. Funny dude!

And of course, there’s little Shane...a young man I swear is me 20-or so years ago. We have this thing going where people are now wondering whether or not we’re father and son. No kidding... We joked about that ONCE, and it got around. We’ve both been questioned about it. Sometimes we say yes, other times no - just to keep everyone guessing. Once, one of the women HE works with asked me while he was standing there. He said yes, I said no. swe were both seemingly serious, in our matched smart-aleck manner. She actually looked back and forth between us for a few seconds before saying, “I don’t know who to believe...”

Classic...

I pick on ALL the managers - including the big guy and his second. Since I’m still working there, they obviously have great senses of humor.

And yes, then there was Wednesday. Corporate was visiting (Tor knows what that means). Days ago, I mentioned to the second in command (called a Co-manager, and his name is Chris) that he might not want to introduce the “suits” to me. Newbie or not, I told him they WILL get picked on kinda like I pick on all managers. He laughed, and obviously did not take heed. Because...

As I was working, the gang of suits came through our department. One came over, under the watchful eyes of the others, and said hi. Here’s how it went...

“Well, hello, Michael,” says the bald suit (apparently the regional boss). “How’s it going?”

“Peachy,” I said as I continued to stock the bananas.

“Aren’t you supposed to say “banana-y? Get it?”

I stopped what I was doing and just looked at him. I wasn’t actually amused and showed it. I said, “Yeah. Original, that.”

He smiled again and thrust out his hand. Now, when stocking any non-packaged food, I always wear gloves. Most don’t, but I prefer doing it that way. Plus, the condensation from the humidity of the back room was pretty bad - so my gloves were wet. As a result, I just held up my hand.

“Better not,” I said after a short breath and a furrow of my brow (done on purpose so he wouldn’t take it personally).

“No, it’s okay,” he said, still holding out his hand.

He just didn’t get it, and I was not about to pull off those silly gloves just to shake his hand. I was busy. Keeping it verbal is perfectly fine with me. Besides, I didn’t know him and do not appreciate having to touch someone who may or may not have had a recent bout with Ol’ Swiney.

I shook my head, he laughed again. “That’s fine,” he said. “We’ll do it this way.”

He then proceeded to take my arm and shook that. I couldn’t help it...I had to join his laughter. Right then and there he proved a sense of humor and grace, and he earned my respect.

HIS boss was watching the whole episode. That guy smiled while shaking his head and continued their tour as he said, “Hello, Michael.”

Apparently, they found that amusing. Hey! I told them it’d be best to steer clear, eh? Then again, now that I think of it, that may be why it was done. The suits probably were told and just wanted to see if I’d cow like most others. NOPE! If you’re as mortal as me, you’re no one to fear. SO let’s have fun!

There is also one particular TRUE story going around about me. You see, a week ago, I tried to clock in but the dang piece of computerized technology didn’t allow it. Even though I was scheduled, it said I wasn’t. So, I went to the managers offices and placed my hands on my hips until acknowledged. There was this guy I’d never before laid eyes upon who turned and asked if he could help me. Now, I already knew he was some kind of regional dude, but pretended not to realize.

“Yeah,” I said. “I need one of you manager type to come to that cursed time clock and smack it into compliance. I need to get to work before I get too bored and start causing trouble.”

So the guy gets up and says, “Well, my card won’t work for you.”

“No kidding? Why? Don’t they trust you?”

Mind you, this was within earshot of other managers whose cards WOULD work. I wasn’t actually addressing that guy, but hey! He offered to help,. So I gave my attention...as I do with EVERY manager type. I actually saw Brian, the store manager (Da Big Guy) suppress a smile. Chris, the co-manager, cringed (he’s just nervous that way, which is perfect comedic fodder for my other fun zingers). The suit didn’t smile much, but was friendly. Maybe because it was 6 Am and he’s not used to such early hours. Who knows? I ended up getting clocked in...and the assistant manager who did it kept snickering.

Little Derek, mentioned above, loves that story enough to have me telling it to anyone from outside the department we meet. In fact, Derek actually gaffed when I recounted the arm shaking encounter with the “feared” suits that he called be crazy. And the Boss thought it was funny.

I probably get away with these things because I take the insignificant gig seriously. I chose to be there, they chose to hire me...as such, I will do as they assign and will do it as best I can. Period. Take the job seriously, but myself. Trust me, they’ll let me know if I ever screw up.

So, it appears that the last several years of a hard financial life has given me enough insanity to be charming again while not enough to be truly nutty. I think...

I mean, think about it. I drive a really crappy car that cops LOVE to stop because they know dang well there’s something ticket-worthy going on (usually, my friendly nuttiness gets me out of tickets - cops love NOT being the butt of irritation or anger). I can barely pay bills. I have no savings left. And I sleep on a cheap futon rather than a real bed (sometimes that can suck). I work crap gigs because I didn’t have the brainpower and discipline in my youth to think beyond the moment...and all that while entering middle age. On top of it all, I have a very high intellect, know stuff, can learn quick (sometimes), and am almost DAILY mistaken for some kind of manager or supervisor (and that’s everywhere, not just WM). I have a criminal record (due to not thinking beyond the moment) and I’m realistic enough to understand it’s likely gonna be this way...FOREVER. My credit record is a joke and will probably not improve in time for me to enjoy it (again). And still I choose to laugh (and I don’t even have to try most days).

On paper, it looks like I’m scum of the Earth (it really does). But in person, these days, apparently it’s different.

Faced with all that, I choose to laugh. And, man - it works. Regardless of the above, I know doors open wherever I go. I just have to decide whether or not to step through one of them. All I have to do is make a decision. What and when that will be, I have no idea.

All I know is that the consequences of that rather dubiously led life have hardened me enough to get through...well, anything. As such, I can DO anything (within the bounds of the law this time...of course *ahem*).

THAT is why I can still laugh, even through the occasional stress-filled sleepless nights. It’s not Wal-mart of any other place I’ve worked in the past few years. It’s me...

Yeah... Crappy pay and crappy gig at the WM, sure. But it’s fun. That makes all the difference...

Will I ever become a Company Man? IN A PIG’S EYE!! *snicker* Not unless it’s MY company, that is... Then maybe.