Day One

I get to the store on my bicycle, 2 minutes early. They are just opening the front gates. I had dressed like one of them, in brown slacks and a synthetic black polo shirt. This was an attempt to make my new co-workers acceptance of the fact that I was a factotum like them easier.  

Upon entrance I was instantly vexed by the appearance of John. I knew he would be extremely talkative and probably devious, and that he had worked at this location for a long time and this was a place he considered his territory.

Tammy, who had hired me over the phone hands me a large stack of paperwork. I sign away all sorts of rights, jot down names and addresses. I must sign my name at least thirty times. I remember the application was equally long and contained many of the same forms.

My first act of training is to watch Tammy ring up a customer. Then we scan my social security card in.  Then it starts to get busy and I am able to ring up a customer on my own, stumbling through the ancient number coded ms-dos cash register system. John is off prowling the store for customers attempting to sell the sparse amount of digital cameras and lenses we have available.

Around 11:00 am Marta walks in. She’s forty maybe 43 and she probably has kids. She works in the back making the prints. She’s also doing some in depth retouching. I can tell she knows what she’s doing and that she handles the print station well. I can also tell she might go a little bonkers if we get too many of the holiday season orders in at once, or I if I start touching stuff. I decide to steer clear of her until I can make sure she’s relaxed around me. Just like an angry cook at a kitchen can make a waiter’s day hell, this woman can probably cause a serious chain reaction of shit rolling downhill at this store.

Later I complete much of the same information as my application and my new hire form on into an old ms-dos computer. And now even Tammy, leader of the store, the ultimate pinnacle of day-to-day authority is beholden to the system. My manager has to enter 15 minutes worth of codes and protocols to enter me into their ms dos dated databases.

Around twelve thirty five Frank walks in. He’s husky, early thirties. He’s got a decent 6-day stubble going. When I applied for the job I spoke with him. I asked him, “Do you think I should work here? he said  “Definitely not”. So I made sure there was at least one other sarcastic self-deprecating person that works there. Earlier I had glanced at the schedule, Frank works the late shifts, so I think I’ll try to get the later shifts at the store. Frank right now seems to be my only candidate for a steady friend on this job, He has the same sort of slacker impulses I do, but also a deep appreciation for good conversation. If he’s not crazy he could be the steady ally I need to get through this factotum time without going crazy myself. I’ll confide in him my serious questions about actual vs. corporate protocol, and hopefully learn how to cheat the system. If anyone will punch me in when I’m late back from lunch it’ll be him.

Also on the late shift is Jane. She’s in her twenties and has died hair and some sort of Goth thing going. I don’t know if I can trust her so I put her in the maybe category purely based on her youth.

As I finish my registration Tammy tells me about the commission system at the store, she also assigns me my number 47304.  It will come to define my every transaction with the computerized bureaucracy of the store. Tammy tells me to watch out for John, as he is known for snaking customers by substituting his number 23557.

At one thirty I leave, relieved. I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for the day. Tomorrow I pull a full shift, 10-6, hopefully with some sort of lunch break scheduled in.