You can listen to a discussion about this chapter here: You’re Not In Trouble
It’s like I’m strapped to the handlebars of a blind man’s bike.
– The Shins
I was called up to the office before my first 10-minute break yesterday.
“You’re not in trouble,” said the store team leader. The STL. At The Apple Store they call them store owners. Basically, the big man in charge.
For the most part, they are managing children and partially damaged adults. Shit, what does that make me? Okay, it’s partially true. I am temporarily damaged. Unable to fly. My wings will dry, and I will regain enough airspeed to break this curse of a job. A blessing too, this job. A sprawling mass of human innovation, tethered to the largest tech company in the world, harvesting both organic produce and low-wage workers into a massive and well-networked machine.
Amazon has a record of everything you’ve ever purchased on Amazon. And on all Amazon affiliates. And they’re buying and selling your demographic data to Google. And renting it from Meta and Apple. The big tech file on you… Well, if you could see it you’d be horrified. Or informed.
In the meeting, the second involved an ASTL who tries to play friendly and soften every blow he is given to deliver to the prawns. The first time it was this man, J, we’ll call him, and my friendly hiring manager, E. I was being asked to reverse three days of sick leave I had filed in the system. This was the beginning of the end for me at the store. I’m not sure if the STL is the one who asked for the reversal. That’s unimportant at the moment.
That reversal started my three month and counting saga with the third-party HR vendor and their incompetent process that requires emails, phone calls, uploaded PDFs, letters from medical providers… On and on it goes. It’s still ongoing in my case. Still unresolved. Three months later, for three days of medical leave.
In this more recent come to Jesus with J and the STL, M, the questions were more abstract. I guess he couldn’t just ask me for the facts. He is not a native English speaker, so perhaps he was tiptoeing around the “complaint” to protect the source.
“Do you remember having a conversation with a team member or a customer about…”
He then proceeded to ask about random, mysterious conversations. “About the handles on the shopping bags?” “About someone’s tattoos?” “About a piercing?” “Did you say that, ask if it meant they were a sub?”
I tried to decipher the encoded message.
“No. I can’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Did you ever…”
It went on in vague and obscure questions, and my limited denial, “I don’t recall anything about it.”
In the end, “We’ll let you know. Sometimes these things resolve very quickly. We’ll get back to you.” J smiled. This concluded my interview. I was free to take my first ten-minute break. Welcome to work.
I’m going to imagine for my own sanity that I will not actually hear back from them. Unless I’m fired, I am pretty sure they have only anillary notes. I wonder if it might have been the imbecile TL hearing and interpreting something he didn’t understand, but was concerned it was a form of sexual harassment.
“I might have asked some people about their tattoos or piercings. I don’t have any. I’m fascinated by what compels them.” Did I ask her about her septum piercing? Probably. Do I recall the exact conversation? Not really. Here’s my reconstructed memory. “Oh, you have an interesting piercing. Can I ask you a question about it? Does it carry any meaning beyond just being an interesting piece of jewelry?” That was it. She said it was just a piercing. No different than an earring under her nose.
I don’t have to understand. I don’t have to get to the bottom of anything. I’m guessing the STL is not losing a lot of sleep over this inquiry. My curiosity is more about how it was reported. The young woman in the crosshairs seems much more hidden than she was before. Avoidant. We weren’t close, but we had playful banter between us, as most of us do on the cashier team. She was distant. Didn’t meet my eyes. I tried to say hello, good morning, how are you. The same way I do to the other ASL, the woman who fired me. This reinforces the mantra, “Colleagues at work are not your friends.” That’s not the way I operate. Everyone is a friend until they demonstrate unreliable or dangerous qualities.
I didn’t get even. I didn’t ask for her apology when it came to light, it was her mistake. I didn’t even blame the inept HR system for causing me the problems. It’s all part of the system. The big machine set in place to extract profit from organic food and wellness products using computers and low-wage workers.
As I’ve tried to move up within the organisation, I’ve been hobbled by the HR morass. I’m still trying to sort out their issues for a follow-up medical visit related to the first one. I’m one month in on that second, related incident.
Here’s the thing. The machine values cogs. You show up. You do your work. You don’t steal, harass, or call out too many times. Stay in your lane and you will not be in trouble. Even if you are in trouble, it might be the mistake of the humans trying to manage the machine. The hippie man who created this particular machine is long gone. Speeds, feeds, efficiency, and products scanned per hour. PSH. That’s how I’m rated.
A machine.
Our rocket-man billionaire owner says he’s going to implement 60,000 robots when they are available. Um, news flash, robots absolutely run all warehouse operations. I guess, in some ways, I am the human interface for the store robots. I joke when asking older customers for their ID to buy alcohol. “The robot needs to see your ID.”
It’s not far from the truth.
We are humans augmenting the robots at this point. The human stuff is the messy part. And the inept grind at the low-wage work because they have few options. I’m opting out as soon as possible. This is a waystation on the trip toward the sun.
