So after all my bitchin’ and moanin’, I am finally employed – at the basterdchild at Staples. My gut instinct told me as I filled out the 40 page application online that this would be the place I would end up working. Quite frankly, I love it so far because the whole store just belongs in a sitcom. I keep reminding myself that that’s why I’m commuting in 100 degree weather instead of strolling calmly to the Staples 5 minutes away from Third North. (Well, assuming that I stay at this Staples in the fall, it’ll be two blocks away from my Broome loft-dorm.) You can pretty much get a sense for the personalities upon first impressions and conversations, since everyone is used to constant interaction. The store is tiny and doesn’t cover the majority of the products you see in most Staples, and the copy center is half the size of my dorm room. (If you saw my dorm room or got an impression from my blog entries, you would understand the significance.) The [copy center manager? I don't know her official title] told me that even though she needs more people to work with her, they won’t give her more because there’s just no room. I agree on both counts. Regardless, the copy center position was really pushed on me with all four people I interviewed with, but then again I’m pretty smaller/shorter than most of the employees there. And that’s how I ended up with the blue polo shirt.
Actually, that’s not how I literally ended up with the blue polo shirt. The general manager couldn’t find my shirt around the basement offices so he called up another Staples, “V*, this is B*. I’m gonna need two shirts, medium and x-large. Wait, make that a medium blue and x-large red.” He got off the phone and turned to me, “You wanna go on a field trip?”
Twenty minutes later V* approached me and my “co-worker” with two packaged shirts in hand. “I can’t believe B* sent you here” were the first words out of his mouth. About two other people commented on this field trip in the same manner. (BTW, I ended up with a small size that’s longer than most of the dresses girls wear now-an-days.)
For once I have mostly positive things to say about something, but training sucks harder than a prostitute. The daily couple of hours I spend on the computer taking “training” tests are useless when I get put on the floor. I just wish they wouldn’t throw me in a pool and expect me to learn how to swim without wearing a life-jacket first. The machines were broken yesterday so I just stood around, but today I made copies and bounded spiral notebooks before I stood around.
It’s incredibly awkward when there’s a line of people and I’m forced to just stare back at them since I’m utterly useless without repeated direction. My mom and a random customer told me that it’s obvious to detect since I had that “deer in headlights” look. A lot of it has to do with the fact that the copy center is incredibly unorganized so I can’t even find completed orders let alone fail at ringing them up.
A girl approached me with a bunch of random papers in hand, including stapled receipts and other crumpled pieces of paper. She was having trouble operating the self-serve machine and made this trip twice to state her lack of progress before asking for us to do it. Like most people who walk into any copy center or similar store set-up, they expect the employees to stop EVERYTHING they’re doing and cater to their needs THAT instant. I tried to explain that we’re behind on orders so it will take two hours. “It doesn’t take a genius to make copies,” says the person who couldn’t make copies on the self-serve copier. I guess it takes a genius to detect hypocrisy.
