The manager that gave the orientation was nice enough, spoke very clearly, did not take any shit and said it like it was. The entire orientation was focused on employee theft, employee violence and fighting with customers. She let us know that 90% of theft is by employees, that company security is armed, ready and eager for employees caught stealing to resist arrest. Really, other than attendance rules, all four hours consisted of this clearly spoken lady trying to impart some level of couth to these 20 stupid cооns and determine who was a psychopath. The other three of us, broken down old broads, managed to stay awake, largely due to the ridiculousness of the rest.
They have us pick an M&M [candy] from a cup and then when they call out your color you answer the question: favorite book, favorite movie, favorite thing to do. It was worse than junior high school as far as the level of stupidity. For most of the employees, their favorite thing to do was either “sleep” or “eat.”
We are permitted to be late 23 times before we get terminated and this one dumb bitch blurts out, “Oh, dat shit si radiculuss! I’ll be makin’ dat by da skin a my teef!”
We were told that we were not permitted to argue with the customers, to refer them to a manager, which is standard. I thought it was kind of nuts when the manager then said that if a customer touched us or hit us and we fought back that we would be terminated on the spot. Then I realized that they were trying to nip these retards in the bud when they WENT OFFS!
This one bitch is smacking her lips and saying, “Oh, if a bitch lay a hand on me, it’s on Boss Lady!”
Another stupid bitch blurts out, “Oh, if a bitch touchin’ on me, I’m touchin’ back.”
Another shameless bitch was saying, “Oh, if security throwin’ in on dey side I’m fightin’ em all!”
Then, they cover weapons and the manager says that a pocket knife is a weapon and these bitches go OFFS!
“I can’t bring my protection?”
“My ass is handlin’ money en I ain’ strapped?”
“Oh, but you can carry a box cutter—I gonna be all about the box cutter up in dat joint!”
“Oh, what’s in ma purse is in my purse!”
This had to be the worst four hours of my life.
The manager had to constantly explain that your purse or book bag can be searched at any time, and the car too.
After we hear that this one uncouth bitch comes out with, “Oh, my car is my car, and I gotz ta have my protectyscion. Ain’t givin’ my gun up fo nobody!”
I am so glad that I am no longer involved in retail food.
Good Morning, Dindustan!: Urban Life at the End of Caucasian Time