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I'm only assuming that she was a queen by the way she addressed me as a member of her court.
Backtracking a bit, I was asked to cover for a co-worker who has fallen on tough times and had to take a leave of absence. As one of the few long-timers left, I've done every job in the store at some point so switching assignments is no big deal. The responsibilities change ever so slightly but the basic requirements remain the same.
In other words, "...falling off of a log" and "...riding a bike". You get my point.
What I had forgotten is that different positions require different levels of exposure to the public. For instance, a receiving clerk rarely has to deal with customers. Dealing with vendors making deliveries is 180 degrees starboard of Customer Island. In that place, some people like to assume that they're carrying your paycheck in their wallet and that your degree of happiness on payday depends solely on their level of satisfaction once they have completed their shopping experience and reach the checkout.
Before today, it had been literally years since I had been in my co-worker's position. It took a while for the unused synapses to fire but they cranked right up and soon I was cruising along at an impressive clip.
Roughly two hours from the end of my shift, I heard her voice. My work station was in the center of the store so she was half-way through her shopping experience on her way to Checkout and ultimately Final Judgement.
From eight feet away by my reconning, she immediately assailed me with her displeasure.
Queen: I wish you people would do this crap when people aren't trying to shop! You're nothing but in the way!
Now that I think about that moment, I'm impressed with the number of tasks that the human brain can carry out in a very short amount of time. Most of it was done as she delivered her pronouncement of displeasure.
Shock lasted milliseconds. The problem with shock is that reflex tends to bypass logic and corporate programming. I recovered quickly enough having previously conditioned myself with the mental equivalent of a surge protector. Incidentally, my corporate programming has been reduced to a tiny app that I only run when I need it.
Still, I'm human. I've seen these Queens before and have ultimately decided that sympathy is the emotion more appropriately expressed (albeit internally) than any of the miriad, negative emotions that could be used for reciprocation.
As a result, I ran my app and played my part.
Me: I'm so sorry, Ma'am! I'll be happy to move wherever you need me if I'm in your way. I'm sorry about having to do this work while you're here but we have to schedule our assignments around delivery schedules.
My words sailed right past her even as she physically passed me. She gave no hint that my explanation had even reached her ears. Her responce made it clear that my thoughts did not become her own. Vocal communication seemed to be ineffective.
Queen: It doesn't even do me any good to call the corporate office. I've tried for years to get you people out of my way so I can shop in peace. You should all be working the night shift!
Let's talk Fuses.
Some people are described as having short or long ones based on the amount of adversity it takes to "set them off".
Today, I realized that my fuse, although long, is difficult to ignite. Once lit, however, it burns at a speed in direct relation to the temperature of the ignition flame.
I recalled my years on night shift in a flash of memory. I recalled my decision to demand that my work schedule be based on my evolving family as I went from single to husband to parent-of-one and then two. Schools have specified hours of operation and my two-year-stint of taking two hour naps twice per day is completely out of the question now that daylight and love has made it so much easier to convey the joy I feel daily in a way that fits the corporate profile.
I share my happiness with my customers.
This one, however, lit my fuse.
Me: Ma'am, I've been staying out of your way for a quarter of a century. I'm not going back for your convenience.
She said nothing in response.
I glanced at a nearby customer who gave my a wink and a smile before I removed myself from the sales floor.
There, I encountered my unit manager going about some other business.
Me: You'll probably get a customer complaint about me soon.
UM: What happened?
I conveyed the story you've read but with vocal and facial expressions accentuated with body language to take the place of the literary requirements needed in this format.
UM: What a bitch!
It was then that I realized that on her journey down the aisle in which I was working, she hadn't picked up a single item.
She had located and homed in on a "Uniform" for the sole intention of flexing her bitch-muscles.
Now I just feel sorry for her again.
Not sorry enough to deny her of her well-deserved fame on this discussion board.
Long Live the Queen(s)!
Backtracking a bit, I was asked to cover for a co-worker who has fallen on tough times and had to take a leave of absence. As one of the few long-timers left, I've done every job in the store at some point so switching assignments is no big deal. The responsibilities change ever so slightly but the basic requirements remain the same.
In other words, "...falling off of a log" and "...riding a bike". You get my point.
What I had forgotten is that different positions require different levels of exposure to the public. For instance, a receiving clerk rarely has to deal with customers. Dealing with vendors making deliveries is 180 degrees starboard of Customer Island. In that place, some people like to assume that they're carrying your paycheck in their wallet and that your degree of happiness on payday depends solely on their level of satisfaction once they have completed their shopping experience and reach the checkout.
Before today, it had been literally years since I had been in my co-worker's position. It took a while for the unused synapses to fire but they cranked right up and soon I was cruising along at an impressive clip.
Roughly two hours from the end of my shift, I heard her voice. My work station was in the center of the store so she was half-way through her shopping experience on her way to Checkout and ultimately Final Judgement.
From eight feet away by my reconning, she immediately assailed me with her displeasure.
Queen: I wish you people would do this crap when people aren't trying to shop! You're nothing but in the way!
Now that I think about that moment, I'm impressed with the number of tasks that the human brain can carry out in a very short amount of time. Most of it was done as she delivered her pronouncement of displeasure.
Shock lasted milliseconds. The problem with shock is that reflex tends to bypass logic and corporate programming. I recovered quickly enough having previously conditioned myself with the mental equivalent of a surge protector. Incidentally, my corporate programming has been reduced to a tiny app that I only run when I need it.
Still, I'm human. I've seen these Queens before and have ultimately decided that sympathy is the emotion more appropriately expressed (albeit internally) than any of the miriad, negative emotions that could be used for reciprocation.
As a result, I ran my app and played my part.
Me: I'm so sorry, Ma'am! I'll be happy to move wherever you need me if I'm in your way. I'm sorry about having to do this work while you're here but we have to schedule our assignments around delivery schedules.
My words sailed right past her even as she physically passed me. She gave no hint that my explanation had even reached her ears. Her responce made it clear that my thoughts did not become her own. Vocal communication seemed to be ineffective.
Queen: It doesn't even do me any good to call the corporate office. I've tried for years to get you people out of my way so I can shop in peace. You should all be working the night shift!
Let's talk Fuses.
Some people are described as having short or long ones based on the amount of adversity it takes to "set them off".
Today, I realized that my fuse, although long, is difficult to ignite. Once lit, however, it burns at a speed in direct relation to the temperature of the ignition flame.
I recalled my years on night shift in a flash of memory. I recalled my decision to demand that my work schedule be based on my evolving family as I went from single to husband to parent-of-one and then two. Schools have specified hours of operation and my two-year-stint of taking two hour naps twice per day is completely out of the question now that daylight and love has made it so much easier to convey the joy I feel daily in a way that fits the corporate profile.
I share my happiness with my customers.
This one, however, lit my fuse.
Me: Ma'am, I've been staying out of your way for a quarter of a century. I'm not going back for your convenience.
She said nothing in response.
I glanced at a nearby customer who gave my a wink and a smile before I removed myself from the sales floor.
There, I encountered my unit manager going about some other business.
Me: You'll probably get a customer complaint about me soon.
UM: What happened?
I conveyed the story you've read but with vocal and facial expressions accentuated with body language to take the place of the literary requirements needed in this format.
UM: What a bitch!
It was then that I realized that on her journey down the aisle in which I was working, she hadn't picked up a single item.
She had located and homed in on a "Uniform" for the sole intention of flexing her bitch-muscles.
Now I just feel sorry for her again.
Not sorry enough to deny her of her well-deserved fame on this discussion board.
Long Live the Queen(s)!
), but this always seemed somewhat underhanded to me. Meh.
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