Loaded Questions
"Do you have a cell-phone?" he asks me.
Manager, Senior Store Manager, Regional Manager, District Manager. We don't have an SSM, just four managers and a DM who visits maybe once a month. All of us managers get along well.
Except for this guy. Our Regional Manager is maybe 23 years old. I have to give it to him for being so young and obviously not having taken time to go to secondary education, he gets to call himself a superior to people who have worked for 45 years only to end up his subordinates. He's on the ball and he knows his stuff. I can respect that.
But when he asks me, "Do you have a cell-phone?" I know it's a loaded question. Everything he asks me is loaded. I can say no and he'll think I'm a liar and give me the speech on not having cell-phones in the store, or I can say yes and he'll give me the speech anyway.
I say yes, he gives me the speech, and I do the only thing you can do with a superior in this situation. I nod and scowl intently like I'm very interested in what he's saying, and when he's done, I look away and think out loud. I'll have to be sure and leave it in the back room, I say to myself, or actually, I should just leave it in the car because if I don't I'll forget. I don't think it'll be too hot in there anymore.
He smiles to himself, satisfied with my acting, and relaxes a little bit before attempting to find something else to lecture me on.
He starts telling me about a product and how great it is and how he uses it every day. I know damn well he's never used it in his life, but I act impressed and very enthusiastic about the wonders the item has bestowed upon humanity, and am eager to begin suggesting it to customers with greater frequency.
Closing down for the night, the RM shows me a "new" way to do things. A way that will ensure that I'm not out of the store at 9:05 getting paid to work until 9:30. I listen to what he says, ask questions that I don't need to ask, and when we're done I go over the steps with him even though I don't need to, making a mistake in the order so that he can correct me.
I think about inviting him to one of the guys' nights to play poker or hit a party or go to a bar, but don't. For a moment, I picture him sitting at a round tavern table trying to give me pointers on how to hold my mug or criticizing my selections and informing me of how excellent some other drink is. Choking the mote of pity or empathy or whatever it was as quickly as it had arisen, I decide against pretending to be anything other than the employee he wanted me to be.
We will both die relatively alone, but the tragedy of his life will have been completely by choice.
Today I will go in and he will be there again. He will lie to me and I will lie back to him, and as he tries to teach me about the sales world, I will be learning so much more about the one that is human.
Manager, Senior Store Manager, Regional Manager, District Manager. We don't have an SSM, just four managers and a DM who visits maybe once a month. All of us managers get along well.
Except for this guy. Our Regional Manager is maybe 23 years old. I have to give it to him for being so young and obviously not having taken time to go to secondary education, he gets to call himself a superior to people who have worked for 45 years only to end up his subordinates. He's on the ball and he knows his stuff. I can respect that.
But when he asks me, "Do you have a cell-phone?" I know it's a loaded question. Everything he asks me is loaded. I can say no and he'll think I'm a liar and give me the speech on not having cell-phones in the store, or I can say yes and he'll give me the speech anyway.
I say yes, he gives me the speech, and I do the only thing you can do with a superior in this situation. I nod and scowl intently like I'm very interested in what he's saying, and when he's done, I look away and think out loud. I'll have to be sure and leave it in the back room, I say to myself, or actually, I should just leave it in the car because if I don't I'll forget. I don't think it'll be too hot in there anymore.
He smiles to himself, satisfied with my acting, and relaxes a little bit before attempting to find something else to lecture me on.
He starts telling me about a product and how great it is and how he uses it every day. I know damn well he's never used it in his life, but I act impressed and very enthusiastic about the wonders the item has bestowed upon humanity, and am eager to begin suggesting it to customers with greater frequency.
Closing down for the night, the RM shows me a "new" way to do things. A way that will ensure that I'm not out of the store at 9:05 getting paid to work until 9:30. I listen to what he says, ask questions that I don't need to ask, and when we're done I go over the steps with him even though I don't need to, making a mistake in the order so that he can correct me.
I think about inviting him to one of the guys' nights to play poker or hit a party or go to a bar, but don't. For a moment, I picture him sitting at a round tavern table trying to give me pointers on how to hold my mug or criticizing my selections and informing me of how excellent some other drink is. Choking the mote of pity or empathy or whatever it was as quickly as it had arisen, I decide against pretending to be anything other than the employee he wanted me to be.
We will both die relatively alone, but the tragedy of his life will have been completely by choice.
Today I will go in and he will be there again. He will lie to me and I will lie back to him, and as he tries to teach me about the sales world, I will be learning so much more about the one that is human.
posted by red at 22:29
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