"Recomendations" + Poor Children + The Homeless + Soldiers = 2 Weeks

I have been meaning to post this for about a week and a half now but for one reason or another I have not, sorry.

So I quit my job. Borders to be specific. I know, no more discount on books, how could I? Here's how:

Since I started working at Borders the company has been shifting it's Customer Service in store staff towards being salesmen, are new name was "bookseller". With the downturn of the economy and the retention of bankruptcy lawyers on the part of Borders they really started to tightening the screws on the entire staff to start "urging" customers to buy a specific product.

Before I went to Egypt I could handle the little bits of pressure the managers put on me and I would just shrug it off and move on with my day. Upon my return things were a little different.

What confronted me was a sign that said if any employee failed to great and "recommend" a product to every customer within 10 feet of them they would be terminated. On top of that we would each be graded for every CSI (those surveys the ask you to fill out over the phone at the register) that is issued during our shift. As well as we would be graded by a manager and asked to sign off on said grade each shift. Not to mention there are four specific products that we are supposed to be "intimate" with so we can better "recommended" them to customers (last week they were a stuffed bunny, a medical narrative about a woman with cancer, some random harcover novel about a Chinese love story, and the new Jodi Piccoult book. If I had my way I would reccomend they don't buy those things).

Throw on top of that our "charities" that we run at the register which include a stuffed bunny you can buy for $6 that we take all the profits from and then donate to the Salvation army, or the book drive that requires you to by a specific book from us that we again take the profit from and then donate at your behest, OR (my favorite) you can buy a bag of coffee beans from us for $10 and donate it to the troops oversees for which we get all the profit and you can have a free drink from our cafe.

Because you know if there is one thing our servicemen and women need in Iraq and Afghanistan it's to be hooked on bad coffee. Here's a real charity, how about we start taking money that goes to buying them more body armor or maybe to help disabled veterans recover from injuries such as missing extremities or PTSD. Preying on peoples emotions with poor children, the homeless and soldiers just to make a buck. Fuck You Borders for making me feel guilty every time I process a transaction. Shame on you.

And all this in a time of economic recession.

For those reasons I gave my two weeks notice on Saturday March 21st, and for that reason all my co-workers (some managers included) gave me congratulations. Just a little something Borders, when your employees congratulate each other about being able to quit the company it means you are doing something wrong.

Top Five: The Day of Days

The Underling does not enjoy last days at all. They make him paranoid, antsy, and above they bring about his Catholic Guilt. So in honor of his last day working for the BRA we are proud to bring you the Underlings top five most awkward/memorable last days. Today we will actually go in reverse to build up some excitement and intrigue!


5. Tie between working for my father and Northeastn Intramurals. I am still off an on with both so this doesn't really count but I needed a #5.

European Parliament: Stagiere to Pawel Piskorski:
There was really nothing awkward about this day other than the hug and good bye with Weronika and the obvious absence of my boss. What really hit me about this day was that I was leaving Belgium shortly there after, a place I could have spent the rest of my life and been happy about it. A very emotional day, the most emotional last day I have had, to say the least.

Enos Marine:
My first job ever and coincidentally it was my first last day ever! This last day was awkward because my boss thought that I should work for 2 more weeks and then go to college. I on the other hand thought that I needed two weeks to get my shit together and fully deal with the fact that I was moving on. She thought it was irresponsible, I thought it was normal. Regardless to this day it is difficult to talk to my old boss when I take my father's boat out.


Secretary of the Commonwealth Corporations Division:
I consider this awkward because I avoided saying good bye to every member of the Corporations division (40 people) on my way out. How I did that I have no clue, but it was glorious.

Woodman's of Essex:
This job takes the cake when it comes to awkward memorable last days. All in all it was a few last days wrapped into one because of all the titles I held here. What makes it so memorable is that at Woodman's it is tradition to be thrown into the lobster tank out front on your last day. I was no exception. The entire day I was a nervous wreck waiting to be thrown into the tank (which is something like 40 degrees Fahrenheit) while my co-workers kept snickering at me and making gestures that implied that I would be getting really wet later that evening.

Now I'm a good guy and if I don't say so myself a rather cute one, something that worked in my favor at Woodman's because at least half of the workers are High School girls. And on my last day that worked in my favor. With a few minutes before close a couple of the girls told me to leave and that they would punch me out so I could avoid getting dunked in the tank. I took them up on their offer and was out the door only to realize I forgot my regular shoes, which I had to go back for. That of course was my undoing. I was immediately grabbed and dragged out to the tank, at this point I decided I would not go down without a fight. I kicked my legs and swung my arms breaking someones glasses and knocking someone else to the ground, but to no avail, I went in the tank. I then drove home without any pants on.

My plan of leaving early would not have worked btw because earlier that day the other guys in the kitchen went out and blocked me in with their cars. That would have brought upon a situation where I would have waited out my co-workers until the wee hours of the morning then would have snuck off and called someone to come pick me up. Oh if only that had happened.

When Girls Cry

I must admit I have made girls cry before, but usually it's because they were close to me. At least in all the cases I know of, I knew their name and we had been acquaintances for more than an hour. That was not the case on Tuesday.

I may or may not have mentioned this before but in addition to working for the BRA and at Borders I work as an Intramural Referee for Northeastern (I will post more about this some day) and have done so for over a year now. Tuesday was the finals for both Hockey and Broomball (a sport which deserves its own post in the future) which is always a fairly nerve racking shift because adrenaline is high and people really want that Championship T-Shirt (the lengths they go to for a shirt).

On this day I am tasked as supervisor (yeah I'm not much of an Underling at this job, oops) to collect all the IDs. Well as it happens a girl meekly comes up to me as I am collecting Husky IDs and checking off their names on the rosters and she says;

Girl: "Is there anyway I can play without my ID, I lost it today and didn't have a chance to get a new one"

Me: "I'm sorry but it is University policy that all players must turn in a NU ID in order to play"

To this she starts to tear up and I'm just standing there shouting on the inside "Oh god please please please please don't cry!"

But she does.

A lot.....

And I don't know what to say, she cannot play, it is University policy, there is nothing I can do short of something getting me fired. And I understand why she can't, there is too much liability at stake for us to let her play. I feel like shit, but rules are rules. The worst part about it was that I knew she had been thinking about it from the moment she couldn't find her ID. She had been dreading the moment when she would walk up to the man with IDs (in this case it was me) and ask if she could still play. Now her mind was probably about 95% sure that she couldn't play but there was probably 5% that thought that maybe she would get someone to fudge the rules and let it slide, which is why she still came to the game and asked if she could play. It is because of that 5% that she didn't cry until the moment when I converted that 5% of hope into 5% of despair (Just call me the destroyer of hope, the Anti-Obama). I made her cry. Without me there would have been no crying that day. That is how I interpretted that situation.

Northeastern, where you spend $40,000 to make girls cry!