…Anything can happen, right?  Well, almost anything.  It seems that assholes will be assholes on every given Sunday.  But that aside, it was a moderately pleasant evening, all things considered.

The Church of Fucking Yapla is in, bitches.  Buckle up and take heed.  Because on any given Sunday you can be spoken to by a lackey, just the messenger, of course, like you don’t know how to do your job.  “So-and-so wanted me to ask if you’d be able to have all the buggies in by the time you leave tonight.”

“Yes,” I replied politely… at least I think I did, I don’t mind this kid, he seems alright, “I’ll have all the carts…” (with as little emphasis on carts as I could restrain myself with… a buggie is a small vehicle drawn by horses in my mind,) “…cleaned up by midnight.”

“You’re off at eleven, right?”

“Nope, midnight, all week”

So I go about my evening as I usually do, systematically and efficiently, hitting the typically densest corrals first and working my way to the less occupied sites toward the end of shop with the fewest carts inside at the time.  Ah, break-time.  A smoke, quick leak, and fresh drink and I’m ready to go.  Right up to the leak.  Stopped just shy of the men’s room by a different manager from the guy who sent his lackey earlier.

“Will you be able to have the lot cleaned up before you go?” He asked, politely, I’ll give.

Now, I’ve been here a while and, to date, other than my first night working alone way back when, no one has ever questioned my ability to clean up my lot.  All I can think is third-shift had some weird cart-race in the parking lot on my last night worked or something and left everything all over the lot.

“Of course,” I bit my tongue through a smile.

“Alright, thank you.”

Work, work, work (in my best ogre voice – for those of you who remember the original Warcraft PC game.)  Last break.  Same routine.  And…duh, duh, duh!  Same result… Another manager asking if the lot would be done by eleven.

“Will be clean as a whistle at 11:00 and again on my last trip around at 11:45.  Only carts that will be out there are the latecomers who leave after my shift is up.”

“Oh, you’re closing?”

“Yep, all week.”

“Okay, please check the trash too.”

“Already done, just have one to change up out front.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?!”  Was my inner monologue.  My exterior, cold as ice.

So, as I promised, all’s well that ends well, right?  Lot’s clean, 5 til midnight, to be extra safe, and I’m just heading for the time-clock.  Toss the trash, punch out on time for the first time in months, and head back to grab a couple sodas for the house before heading home.  Just because I find it best not to let things fester, I swing by the front of the store to stop the manager I like the most, o ye, most tolerable.

“Have there been issues with the lot after I’ve left recently?”

“No, why?”  She asks.

“Well, on three occasions tonight, once while actually pushing the few carts I hadn’t wrangled yet, I’ve been asked if the lot would be clean when I left.  To my knowledge, there hasn’t been a night I’ve left the lot any other way.”

“Oh, yeah, well, So-and-so was under the impression you were leaving at 11 for some reason and last week we had one night with no lot attendant after nine o’clock and things got messy.”

…I don’t ask for the schedule I receive and the gentleman that does all the scheduling for my shop is paid far more handsomely than I.  On the night in question I was certain to let the general maintenance crew know that, as far as I knew, and as it would seem now, no one was coming in after me and I was scheduled out at 9:00PM.  He understood and said he’d do what he could until he was off at 10:00PM and pass the word.

Any management that might find themselves reading this should pay close attention.  Your parking lot attendant(s) is/are the most underpaid, overworked motherfucker(s) you have employed – they take more shit from more directions than anyone this side of the customer service desk and do it with a smile.  We clean your lots, we usher your carts, we carry out all the heavy shit your idiot consumer doesn’t want to carry his/herself, we change the garbage, we straighten the entrances when in disarray.  Do not fuck with us, you do not pay us enough to condescend AND expect more than we are ALLOWED to give.  I don’t know about other stores, but mine has a strict policy about working past scheduled time and working while not on the clock and off break.  I can’t abraca-fuckin-dabra the 30-150 customers that come in on an average evening between 9PM and midnight the fuck away or I would.  To date I have never been so much as a single minute late or left so much as a single minute early and have never, NEVER left a cart in the lot as I made my way to the time-clock.  Now I can’t say this for anyone else at my establishment or anywhere else but you know it’s true for me because you’re the one that pointed it out.

Okay, rant over.  Back to your daily business.  Just don’t forget, put’m where they go, damn it!

OH, and as a side-note, PS and all that shit, your boy Yapla’s started the outline of what he hopes to be a very funny book.  I will keep you posted on whether or not I get past the outline and how/when/where what of it will be available.  Don’t get too excited, though, as I’m not great on finishing when it comes to novels…  I get them off to great starts then life kicks me in the ass, they go on a back burner, and I either forget about them or forget where the fuck I was going with them… But I’m hopeful with this one – Won’t spoil the surprise with the title, but it’s to be a fictional bit about, you guessed it, an average cart pusher.  Oh, fucking stop, give me a chance, it’s funny, I promise – It’s basically going to be a lot of the shit I would do if I didn’t really need the job (and didn’t mind a night in jail here and there…drunken antics and what not.)  Few fun bits of revenge pranking on asshole parking lot visitors (shoppers,) fellow colleagues, probably throw in a romantic element.  Think of it as a good Dane Cook role (I know, right, what the fuck is that?) mixed with a twinge of Seinfeld/Friends/Fill-In-Any-Sitcom-From-The-80s-2000 bullshit humor and a bit of romance (we’re not talking Nicholas Sparks shit here, just goofy romantic comedy; interest, pursuit, attainment, conflict, rising action, climax (not that kind, you nasty fuck… well, I mean, okay, maybe that too, but it’s not going to be Fifty Shades of Dull, Parking Lot Asphalt Black, so get your damn mind out of the gutter,) falling action, resolution, you know, they all lived happ… well… they work at a department store, so, I guess they all ground away at their daily bullshit ever after?  Stay tuned!