The Phantom Menace

In the final death throes of my ultimate shift, I was praying that one piece of administration had been overlooked.  The buttock-clenching ‘exit interview’ and as the seconds ticked by and I pulled on my jacket after exchanging hugs all round, the management piped up with false shock and horror,

“I’ve forgotten to do your exit interview!!!”

“Okay … bye.”

“No, you have to do it.”  If I'd let rip, it would've come out like this.

“It’s over so you can do it for me …”

"NO!  You have to do it.  You can do it now if you like … and it’ll only take ten minutes.”  As if.

Anyone who knows anything about the conflict between computers and human kind will understand there are ten real minutes in which to make a cup of tea and relax, or a computer ten minutes in which you could start a war on several fronts.  I declined her offer because I needed a staff purchase involving another hour of unpaid mucking about at the management’s behest.  Apply this simplified equation equalling the average days worked since I started in the RC:

4 shifts a week x 52 weeks x 4 = 832

For each shift, add an additional 30 minutes required for pratting about, bag checks, purse searches … all unpaid.  In that time, even though I’d signed out, I would serve customers and I swear she used to slow down if we were waiting to leave.  She once signed me in six minutes late on a freezing cold morning because my eye shadow wouldn’t dry and I had to go into the back and reapply it – a real ‘head in the microwave moment’.  And let’s not forget all the buses she’s made me miss.  Roughly, I’m owed £1,456.00 in unpaid hours.  Anyway, I heard myself say it …

“I’ll be in town early tomorrow – I’ll do it then.”  And instantly regretted it.

I needed a cattle prod to wake me the following morning and after a valiant effort made it back to the Retail Cathedral and sat expectantly in front of the computer selecting my 1 – 5 choices for the endless questions: Did I get adequate training? Were my needs met? What did I think of Human Remains?  After the required ten minutes I’d had enough and was ticking boxes at random.  The final question was brilliant “would you tell us your new employer’s name – we promise we won’t contact them?”  Too right you won’t.

And as I completed my final staff purchase, I asked when I would know about my September bonus products – I’d been there, I was entitled and it’s all about the principle.  Y’know what she said?

“I won’t know how to process it because you’ve left.”

“Well I don’t care about the mechanics – you wrote Absinthe’s off when she left.”

And the final blow?  She delivered it just as expected.

“By the way, you’ve had all your holidays, yes?"

“Oh yeah.”

“Well you’ll have it taken out of your final salary.”  I wanted to yell.

“I don’t care … I just want to leave.”  And I did, head held high just as the tannoy broke the serenity of an uneventful Saturday morning.

"THIS IS A CUSTOMER ANNOUNCEMENT"

Startled by the volume, the only thing on my mind was "Oh God … someone in Topshop’s broken a nail."

Tip of the Blog:  I got home in time to watch possibly the most tedious of the Star Wars movies, The Phantom Menace.  It has spectacular highs - Liam Neeson grabbing the tongue of JarJar Binks - and equally crushing lows - when little Annie Skywalker bodily droops as he's told he's not going to be a Jedi. But my favourite bit, which is worthy of a Carry On script, happens when the rebel alliance storm the palace on Naboo.  Some wag shouts "Where can we find the Viceroy?" to which Natalie Portman replies "He's in the throne room"  Yes, of course he is ...

Raven