Meeting the boss

Yesterday was my third and final day of what passes for 'training' at Walgreens — sitting in front of a computer in a busy basement hallway, clicking through text and videos that explain the vaguest basics of 100 different tasks, 95 of which I'll never do.

It's the worst training I've ever had. My long list of questions remain unanswered, because there's been nobody to ask, but after each of the hundred training segments, you're required to attest that you've learned and fully understood the material, before the software allows you to move on to the next topic, where you'll again need to lie that you've learned and fully understood.

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At last, though, I got a straight answer about how scheduling works, from a co-worker who answered my question, and showed me the schedule. Yup, there's my name, listed as on-duty for specific shifts three weeks into the future, though nobody's even asked about my availability.

Per the schedule, it appears that I'll be on the sales floor next, doing the job. Will they expect me to have learned and understood everything, when I haven't yet touched or even seen the handheld scanners everyone uses? I don't even have a badge or a lanyard.

The only time-clocking method I've been shown is via that computer in the basement, which twice has refused to punch my time.

The office was empty, so I asked an employee in the break room for help, and she told me there's a time clock I could use, if I know my employee number. Of course, nobody's told me my employee number.

So my hours won't add up, and I expect an inquiry about it from the boss, which is how I'll finally meet the boss.

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Except that actually, I sorta met the boss yesterday, and here's that story:

There are a few employees who've been chummy as they pass by in the basement hallway, and one of them was going home early, because she wasn't feeling well. We were talking about it at my basement post, when she took a tube of Tylenol pills from her purse, popped the lid, and five of the tablets fluttered out.

To helpfully pick up a tablet that had landed on the floor between my legs, I rolled my chair back a bit, and as I bent down the chair swooshed out from under me, smacking my tailbone hard onto the un-carpeted floor.

And then came the problem. I am fat, and physically unable to stand up without hoisting myself against something, but the computer table was rickety, and the chair had wheels, so I'd fallen and I couldn't get up. 

My semi-friend and a few passers-by in the basement tried to help, but they're all physically slight women, and I'm a massive man.

After a few minutes of frustration, one of the ladies used a Star Trek-like device attached to her belt to call Security. Apparently, employees can dial Uhura at any time, but I don't have such a device, and it wasn't mentioned in the training.

Pretty soon two big burly guys beamed down to the basement, lifted me up, and all was well except for the embarrassment. I said thanks, the men left, and in the aftermath one of the ladies in the hallway told me that one of the men who'd lifted me was the store's manager.

So his first and only impression of me is, I'm the colossal man who collapsed in the basement.

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I finished my self-training about two hours before the end of my shift, or almost finished. There are two segments where the software stupidly requires me to take the training in Spanish.

And I tried. Would've been happy to lie again that I'd learned and understood the subject matter, but to get to that click, you need to pass a quiz first, which I couldn't since I can't read Spanish.

Should I have gone upstairs to the sales floor and looked around for any of the management team that's been ignoring me since I was hired? Yeah, I should've, but I was literally butt-hurt so I clocked out two hours early, and went home.

5/19/2024    

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