(no subject)
Things have been cooking up at my workplace lately. Two weeks ago, a girl whose identity I will withhold for now and will instead dub cash ninja X because it sounds cooler broke up with her boyfriend. This apparently was not a nice breakup, because when she arrived at work the next day she was greeted by two police cruisers and a lot of unfriendly faces. Having recieved an anonymous tip of her frequent theft from the store, the managers had decided to actually watch the footage their huge battery of cameras had provided them, and it turns out they found a lot.
Everyone does something wrong. Be it the occasional smoke break of dubious content, messing around with muzak speaker wiring, or several thousand dollars in theft spread over several months, the managers have discovered that they have dirt on absolutely everyone. Even without camera footage, there is no end to what they can find. Each person caught squeals on several others for some reason, perhaps mistaking their inexorable canning for some kind of chain letter.
Every day I arrive at work is like walking into a british murder mystery. "Will it be professor plum from produce who is fired today? Or perhaps that nice Mr. Mustard from the deli?" The managers have even gone so far as to ennumerate the number of firings they plan to do, prompting us to start a pool. I've bet heavily on me. Not because I've done anything illegal, mind you, but because petty managerial types hold a mutual dislike for me.
Everyone does something wrong. Be it the occasional smoke break of dubious content, messing around with muzak speaker wiring, or several thousand dollars in theft spread over several months, the managers have discovered that they have dirt on absolutely everyone. Even without camera footage, there is no end to what they can find. Each person caught squeals on several others for some reason, perhaps mistaking their inexorable canning for some kind of chain letter.
Every day I arrive at work is like walking into a british murder mystery. "Will it be professor plum from produce who is fired today? Or perhaps that nice Mr. Mustard from the deli?" The managers have even gone so far as to ennumerate the number of firings they plan to do, prompting us to start a pool. I've bet heavily on me. Not because I've done anything illegal, mind you, but because petty managerial types hold a mutual dislike for me.