On certain special occasions I will get a break from cashiering for a while and will put away stock on the main floor. I don’t usually mind when I get asked to be on the floor as time usually goes fairly quickly when you aren’t stuck watching the seconds tick by.
Now, I’m sure my managers expect a young and quick Whitney to bust out all the stock that needs to go out and stack the tomato sauce two at a time. And sure, I’m young and my knees are in good shape, but I don’t actually know where anything is.
I’ll stand in the middle of the aisles cradling a medium-sized box of Heinz ketchup for a solid 30 seconds before one of the managers hustles by me yelling, “aisle one, bottom shelf.”
“Um duh. I know,” I will yell back, but he’s already gone and he knows I didn’t know anyways. Thus, it is fairly easy to conclude that I am definitely more of a burden than a blessing in the stock department, but everyone still directs me where to go with a smile on their face.
I wonder what they do behind my back.