First day at the new job
DescriptionDescription of a shift at store, shit jokes included
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It´s finally here. My first day in my new job. Nothing amazing really, or well paid, but in current circumstances I´m glad for everything. In the morning, after a long time, I woke up with hope and enthusiasm. And to such an extent that I decided to go jogging without having to persuade myself this time. The weather was pleasant too, it wasn´t hot, nor cold. It was not raining and the wind could not be found either. I went out into the street and ran down my standard route. The first few steps and my gut began making weird sounds. That fucking bouncing certainly didn´t do them any good, and I felt like someone was detonating bombs on the ground floor of a multi-story building. I must admit that „bombs“ is quite a charasteristic word. Ladies and gentlemen, I just shat myself. Or atleast I felt like I did. I didn´t want to stop my morning routine because of one „little fart“, after all, I´ve been used to some greenhouse gases lately. It was the result of a change in my diet, which now had a little more fiber than it should be, and that´s why I´m having the squitters. After a few hundred meters, I didn´t even remember it. My before-shat-myself hope took over, and in the headphones, a robotic voice told me every kilometer a distance covered, time, and also the pace at which I had the last interval. I was about half a kilometer to the finish line when a voice told me that I currently had a time that could be my fastest on this track. It wouldn´t be me not to try. I took off and accelerated. This time it was certain, I shat myself. If it was just a feeling before, now it´s for sure. Whatever, I made a record! Shit happens. I was supposed to be at 11 at work, so I decided on an earlier lunch. Better than starving there, right? I poured some black coffee over the white beans in the tomato sauce and set off for a new adventure with a happy smile. I parked right in front of the store and went inside. After a while of searching, I heard that the store manager who knew about me didn´t have an afternoon shift. So nobody knew shit about me. After a few minutes a guy who looked more like a hillbilly disco bouncer than a shop assistant started to show me the place. He did not ask much, he did not talk much. He handed me a green shirt, size M. My brand new uniform. Although, a brand new one is not a completely correct statement, because I could smell a previous tenant. Whatever, I can live with that. When we left the locker room, the bouncer told me I wouldn´t go to the cash register. That I would rather start cleaning the empty cartons from the shelves. I got a personal trash can, drove around the store and collected a mess. Needless to say, I was creating a so-called team spirit from the beginning. Fortunately, I was at the cheese section when an elderly couple sensed my atmosphere. „Something stinks horriibly in here!“ the red haired lady said in a low voice. „Well, you know, that must be this French cheese here, Mary.“ her clever-ass husband replied. I had the desire to correct it, that it really is yesterday´s mozzarella and that is actually Italian, but sometimes silence is golden. But I didn´t complain. I was calm, no one was whipping me, no one was behind me 24/7 and the time was drifting away fast. The only obstacles were customers and their fucking questions. „You must be out of glue, right? It should be on discount today,“ a granny asked. „Where is the yeast?“ a grandpa asked. I did not avoid the bullet from a lady who reminded me of my orange childhood fish with empty eyes: „Can you took this breed out of oven? I do not want the hard one, I want it fresh, ya know.“ I understood their questions and confusion, but I replied the same to all of them: „I´m sorry, I´m just a part-time and been here for 15 minutes, I know shit.“ I don´t know if it satisfied them, but it worked and they let me be. Then came a tiny break, when a younger colleague pulled me into the warehouse to sort returned beer glasses. But at the end of the shift, I had to return to the crowds of shopping zombies. It took olny a few minutes of collecting yogurt cartons when it came. „Young man, I have one question for you, where can I find cilantro?“ „Well old one,“ I thought to myself „I would have one for you too, WHAT THE FUCK IS CILANTRO?!“ That old lady had to dealt with my favourite catch frase. By the end of the shift, I bounced off a few more raiders who either needed a detailed map of the entire store or tried to describe to me what tortillas looked like. When I finished, my boss just came. Additionally, I signed a contract and set off. Only at home did I find out that the contract I hadn´t ever read had more fucking pages and required more than one signature. Doesn´t matter now, I´ll scratch it on tomorrow´s shift. No big deal. But now I´ll have the rest of the beans, so we can experience a little piece of France in the store once again.