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Grace Under Erasure
A Lifetime Retail Food Clerk Finding a Way Out: 5/21/2022
© 2022 James LaFond
OCT/19/22
Eastern, Baltimore County
Megan works running a register and bagging groceries, a job she has had in one form or another, for exactly 40 years. No longer up to the stress of trying to fit into the parasitic management class, she has given up supervising and refuses promotions. These promotions have gotten her fired in the past for the various traitor activities against the managerial class of:
-Talking back to Gawdly Kangs who verbally and physically molest and threaten pale serf girls. Whether these men are members of the managerial class or a customer, they are still living gods and my not be affronted.
-Protecting pretty young servant girls of all races from the above mentioned Kangs and also ghostly perverts.
-Megan’s greatest sin against her class is to work, to take a register when it gets busy, to help the servant class with their tasks, and to lead by example. In the East, there is not greater crime [1] in working in a supermarket, then to mix with the servant class. For a manager to lift a finger, and do more than stand and watch lesser folk work, this is the ultimate traitorous act to the managerial class. This was a constant point of friction between myself and ownership when I worked as a consultant and a manager for 5 years, the feeling that they could not trust a man that would engage in physical work rather than tell another to do the task at hand.
The managerial class is, after all, right about this. A supervisor who leads by example and works with the lowly, does so to keep a good morale up in the workplace and he develops an empathy for inferior beings, which makes him or her prone to protect them from members of his own parasitic class. Indeed, when Megan complained that young cashiers who saw her as their workplace advocate should not be sexually assaulted on the job site, the owners fired her and I quit in disgust. Her work qualifications got her more jobs in the supervisory role. But she lost these jobs for the same reason, standing up to Gawdly Kangs and protecting nubile servant girls from workplace molestation. I even helped her once here in a vigilante capacity in, I think 2016.
The old girl has learned her lesson and refuses promotion. This keeps her out of conflict with the upper ups who can fire her, but makes her an object of seething hatred for low level supervisors. I went through this when I refused promotions for decades, that managerial aspirants would do anything for another dollar an hour, including selling their parents to to the glue factory. So, when these stupid and evil people see a person beyond their ability beneath them, their human instincts of social negation and hierarchical fear kick in and they must broadcast hatred and clique up into a gaggle of bitter toads.
In grocery stores, these are mostly unpleasant to look at middle aged women and fat young men. But there is a freedom in such slavish job settings in contact with the customers, the visitors, both low and hi. Megan gets through the day by being the best cashier she can be, by being one of the few souls on the front end that will not break your eggs, smash your bread, neglect to wrap your $10 bottles of glass-packed health juice in paper, etc.
I have walked into this scene and witnessed as three useless supervisors watch her ring out a long line of customers and the customers shake their heads in disgust—and not all of these customers are losers like us, drops outs from the bottom of the American economy. Some of these people are somebody.
Union or non-union, there is no merit pay in Retail Food. You get the minimum that law and contract forced the employer to pay. After two years slaving away and still at minimum wage, this 60-year-old lady with health problems is still at the only job that it is close enough for her to walk to. The other three low paying jobs close buy are run by families of immigrants who do not higher natives.
She never imagined that some of her customers, where somebody. There is a certain lady that does her shopping there who she has come to know by name, an “Office Lady, in her seventies.”
“Well, Poppy, it turns out that Miss [redacted] runs the office [at a local business] and arranged an interview for me—she said she needs a receptionist A.S.A.P. and that none of the young women can piss clean and come to work, that they’re all high or don’t show up. She was astounded when she found out I walked to work—around here—and wants me in a car, is going to help me get a car. The only thing was that the prissy one that interviewed me said I need three suit dresses, that I can’t dress like a clerk.”
“Oh, thanks, Poppy—I’ll pay you back! I’ve been a broke ass bitch my whole life. What luck it will be if I end up behind a desk now that my legs are giving out!”
I walked her to work at 5:45 on a Saturday Morning in the rucksack and took the bus out of town.
Where the Gawd Kangs Thrive     ‹   harm city to chicongo   ›     Guido & Rico

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