I was wrong. The fast pace and the awkward boxes along with the strange looks from the supervisor made me nervous. No one taught me what to do. In the vernacular of corporatism I wasn't given proper expectations. I just sort of made things up as I went along. Because I didn't do things under normal procedure I was constantly admonished for doing things wrong.
"Not the warehouse way." Patty told me. Patty was in her 50s and looked as serious as time had been to her face. She had fake blonde hair and was thin and slight.
"Don't let my size fool ya!" "I'm tougher than I look." And she was. She had no problems lifting the large items or keeping pace with customers. She was faster then me. And you could tell she was a bit disappointed that she drew my help.
Patty didn't trust anyone. I was told to look through clothes and shoe boxes for hidden items like batteries.
"People are always trying to steal." She'd say.
My pride and my muscles began to ache. I wasn't good at the tetris required required. My visual spatial acuity wasn't up to speck. I didn't turn the boxes correctly. I began to sweat profusely from the constant motion. The warehouse wasn't exactly cool though the air conditioner trired it's best.
I overheard snips of conversations from my fellow trainee and his supervisor. He gave very specific instructions and expectations. I tried to model what I heard, but I couldn't hear everything he said and do my job at the same time. There were no water breaks or rest periods. If you looked up you saw endless lines and customers.
Many of the customer were nice. Some noticed me struggling and even offered to help me out. They gave me hints were to pack or when to use a box.
I tried using my best customer service voice and tricks and managed to make most of my customers forget that I kept putting hot stuff on top of cold items. A rookie mistake that a man with over 20 years experience in grocery shouldn't make. But the pace of packing and movement had me seriously out of my game.
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