Working at Fry's

This is a story I wrote up for my Intro To Fiction class. I was to talk about a job using all the senses. I decided that I wanted to incorporate as much humor as possible. At first, I was worried that the jokes would be too cheeky or something of that sort, but, upon reading it in class, I noticed a number of genuine laughs, especially from other previous or current corporate retail workers, ensuring me in my own talents.

As far as official employment goes, I have truly only had one job, which was working as a accessory salesman at Fry's Electronics, or, as I often call it, “The COSCO of Electronics.” Prior to that, I had only ever worked for my parents in a very unofficial capacity, so I didn't know what to expect, especially since I was going into corporate retail. Whatever I did expect, the experience was certainly many orders of magnitudes more strange, mostly due to the customers that I spent most of my work time attempting to help figure out why they had even come to our store in the first place.

I was easily hired due to my proficiencies in both electronics and bullshitting, the latter being one of the most important talents in the retail market. The man who interviewed me, Dan, the Assistant Store Manager, had something that was off about his face, but I couldn't tell what it was.. I think he may have had facial reconstructive surgery at one point. He was nice, however, in that cheeky, I'm-just-a-nice-boss-until-I-gain-more-by-screwing-you-over kind of way.

I trained under a woman by the name of Stephanie (we were all about first names). She frightened me, as she had the constant demeanor of an unlit stick of dynamite. She was also one of the largest people in the store and was not shy about using it to her advantage. I later found out that she dated the nicest guy in the store, Josh, who I worked with and spent most of my time talking to. They lived together and she drove the car. The training room was as sterile as a hospital waiting room, complete with that annoying, constant humming noise. Our training consisted of watching two movies; one was some sort of racist propaganda about why black people shouldn't smoke pot and the other was (and I wish I was joking here) a recycled driver's ed tape. There were a whole stack more, but Stephanie was apparently too busy to make us watch them, so she sent us out on the sale floor to, “shadow,” our euphemism for pretending to work.

Being a naive kid, I attempted to actually learn how to do my job. I began stalking Taras at the behest of my supervisor. Taras was, perhaps, the worst retail worker in history (of course, as is common in life, he was promoted mere days later), and proceeded to instruct me on important subjects such as how to get away with texting your girlfriend for an hour and avoiding customers who wanted help. After two hours of listening to him whine about how difficult his job was, I ditched him and spent the next few hours meeting the other workers and seeing the layout of our dimly lit, sales heavy corner of the store.

Over the next few weeks, I learned the functions of a accessory salesman: moving boxes, opening boxes, stacking boxes, properly putting boxes on shelves, cleaning up boxes, and other exciting, box-related activities. I smelled of corrugated cardboard by the end of the day and often felt like it. I quickly understood why all of the Fry's employees smoked, with the exception of Josh and I (Stephanie wouldn't let him and I'm allergic). I did enjoy the box crusher, though, which was, of course, a machine design, built, and operated for the sole purpose of flattening the multitudes of boxes we received computer equipment in. It bled grease and oil from every orifice and groaned, reminding me of some sort of complicated contraption I would read about in one of my steampunk novels.

My very favorite task was actually helping the costumers, something which I learned to restrict myself to doing as much as possible and was really the only person there who was at least decent at. In the first month, I received more commendations from customers than any other person in my department due my actual caring about connecting these people to the needed equipment, no matter if I steered them away from or too a more expensive item. The other 'associates' there were content to play with their boxes and, if, by some divine happening, they were roped by a costumer, they would do as little as possible to help them, often times sending them to the farthest aisle they could, or, if they were feeling particularly trollish, into different departments.

This is where the reality of the unspoken trust that customers held and retailers abused was first revealed to me; I once saw a worker tell someone that a piece of photographic equipment was in the movie section and that person, in infinite consumer loyalty, actually walked across the store to find it, striding right by the section that held a large sign signifying it's content to be that which the customer was seeking.

The main problem with being the retail altruist that I was was that I often found myself helping the sort of customers who either have non-electronic related issues or simply had no business being in our store. The most loathed group had to be the Mouth Breathers, a segment of the population who are almost always in their sixties, unkempt, and crazier than a Pink Floyd song. Of course, as their name gives away, these people all chose to inhale and exhale all air through their encrusted, decaying mouths. Combine this with a strange habit of standing uncomfortably close to the second half of a conversation and you have a recipe for a truly punchable person.

There are many zany stories I could write about, but none of them are really all that unique and would only make sense to other retail workers. Looking back, my employment at Fry's Electronics was actually very rewarding; I received a decent discount on purchases, I spent lots of time hanging out with fun people, and still have a stack of business cards and the like from customers of various walks of life offering me a job, including the leader of IT at Nike. And, aside from the few Mouth Breathers, Crazies, and other unbearable people, the customers were fun to interact with and really let you know their appreciation for your help, even the most minor of things. Sadly, I never accepted the tips, since I was only making eight dollars an hour, part-time.

A Life of Tom

There once was a young man named Tom. Tom had made his childhood very tough, and had spent many years in self-made depressions. After fighting these bouts off for years and years, he finally rose above them and found himself alone on a plain of sheer happiness. No matter what happened in life, he could find the best in it and knew at all times that he could handle things and, thus, believed in himself so strongly that he had true control over his negative emotions.

Being on this high point of positivity, he looked around him and saw that he knew no one else that was at such peace with themselves and the world. He believed, perhaps with little pretentiousness, that he could help these people; he thought that they would all want to be happy as he was. He began to live for other people's wellbeing above his own, taking the brunt of the negative emotion in stride and coaxing them to better themselves and find the good in them. Tom spread no ill will, even to those who flagrantly wronged him and felt, probably arrogantly, that he was better than them because of it. Meeting with much success, Tom enjoyed his life and honestly felt very important to the lives of the people around him.

After graduating high school, Tom went off to college, full of exuberance for all of the new people he would meet. He went to all the parties and made at least the acquaintance of everyone on his floor and the one above him. Not being interested in the excesses of drinking and drugs, Tom was also a very useful person to have around as he knew how to take care of the needy and was always well enough and ready to do so. This was something he was proud of. Soon, he fell in love with a very nice young lady who he had taken care of and was determined to win her over. He did, filling him with even more excitement for the year. He had a whole new group of friends, a constant companion, and felt he was finally going somewhere in his life.

Six months later, the cloud which had lifted him so high was quickly dissipating. The friends he had made in the beginning of the year all but ignored him, the relationship which made him so happy was leading him down a path he feared, and he had failed almost all of his classes. At the end of winter term, he had a nervous breakdown and barely got out of bed for weeks. Only with the intervention of his parents and lots of love from his mate did Tom stay in school and climb painfully from the hole that he himself had dug. He was determined to not allow himself to ever fall into that life again; he had abandoned it years ago and had nearly forgotten all of the lessons that had made the preceding years so happy and near pain free.

Things did get a bit better. Tom decided to work at a job he loved and went to only part time classes. He had found a professor whom he really got along with and thought might help him become a professional artist, something which he had always dreamed of. Tom and his lady broke up, but stayed close friends and lovers; barely anything changed, but he was no longer going in a direction that displeased him. He had made real friends and was busy dedicating his time to them, as well as some of his friends back at home who had fallen on hard times. He looked toward Summer with excitement and felt so clear of the drama which had cast a shadow over his life only months prior.

The Summer would not be as joyous as anticipated. It began with another lady friend. Tom had been there for her while she was in a relationship with someone who was bad for her. He had given praise, advice, and an ever-open ear to hear out her ills; Few people had someone to talk to about their problems and, since Tom was on level footing, he offered such a privilege to everyone he knew, thinking that not only would it help them, but also endear him to their hearts, making them feel grateful to have such a wonderful friend as he. This lady was to test that idea. Once she was clear of her previous relationship, Tom very quickly and daftly moved in; Not as a predator, but as someone who would be good for her. He knew he was a good mate; Tom would do anything for his companion, no matter what tax it bore on him, assuming the same treatment would be returned to him.

The fatal flaw was that it wasn't returned and Tom began to realize that many of the connections he had made over the many years since he began his crusade for world happiness were one-sided; He was being used by many of the people he had worked so hard to please and to comfort. Even worse, Tom saw that his loving nature is what had driven so many people away that year. Few of those he called would respond to him and those that did often made excuses or stood him up because he cared too much. Many people were uncomfortable or just downright disliked being looked after and worried over. Others suspected ulterior motives and hidden agendas to Tom's actions. He was nearly universally distrusted and avoided except for by those who saw him as a tool to fulfill their own selfish desires. They cared little for him and were cruel.

These realizations came almost all at once and it was nearly too much for him to bear. The pit below him opened it's black jaws again and, though he tried very diligently to cling to hope, Tom began to let it best him. The thought that people did not want someone so caring in their life was disheartening to him. His intentions were honest and true and he only wished to help people and that was costing him their friendship and his happiness. Those few around him that did care for him told him to change. “It's not worth it,” they said, “Just stop caring. You can't save these people, Tom. You have to look out for yourself first.”

Tom didn't want to change. He was the friend every person said they wanted and he was good to the world. Why should he take a step back and begin treating people worse? He found himself with little choice, though, and became, consciously, very jaded. He began to put his needs above those around him and did not do nice things for them anymore. Tom said hurtful things to those who had wronged him and treated those he didn't like with disrespect. He was cruel to people on a whim and enjoyed poking fun at them with others. And others there were. He found himself to quickly be very popular, even becoming liked by those who had previously spurred him. He found it was much easier to make friend by looking down on everything and being a generally hilarious elitist.

The saddest thing about Tom's life is that he was happy to have become the person he did. He enjoyed standing atop the broken egos of his enemies and friends alike and, for perhaps the first time in his life, thought that he was honestly better than those around him. Through betraying his desire to help people, Tom was filled with hollow happiness and never once cried again.

For those who are reading this, it is probably most apparent that it is about my own life. I am at Tom's moment of change and, having seen the returns on even just the little jadedness that I have tested with, I know this to be one possible path. Whether I will take it or not is still being decided.