It started with my manager noticing discrepancies on my inventory reports every morning. Each night when I took over the shift, I found a little note reminding me to check the battery count again, or verify that the film count matched up with the printout, because the rack was off by one. I would count and count again, and the counts would match exactly with the inventory printout. It baffled me, but I didn't spend too many cycles wondering why the almighty computer system at a discount department store was screwing up numbers. I figured, "It's a four-dollar roll of film, and our profit last year was in the tens of millions. Sam WILL get over this."
But more and more inventory began disappearing overnight from my department: video games, printer cartridges, and eventually a television. The notes from my manager became increasingly terse. I watched the department like a hawk, but saw nothing remotely suspicious. The morning shift employee arrived at 5:30 AM for register count and shift change, so the theft couldn't be taking place between shifts. Nonetheless, inventory was apparently vanishing from the shelves every morning and reappearing when I started my shift. One morning, I was confronted by the overnight manager about the situation. I walked over to the offending aisle of printer cartridges, and demonstrated for him that the count matched EXACTLY with what was on his new morning printout ... hmm. That's odd. It actually WAS off by one. No one had even come into my department that evening. Something stunk.
After a few days of investigation, the morning manager, not surprisingly, received horrible reviews of my performance from the other employees. The part that really fried my turkey was that the overnight manager, Darius, supported the claims of the overnight staff that not only was I lazy, but was also pilfering the stock for personal gain. I was FURIOUS! I explained -- nay, pleaded -- my case to the morning manger, to no avail. When an entire overnight shift at Wal-Mart hates you, the manager is simply NOT going to believe you.
Which leads to a deeper, darker secret than working at Wal-Mart: I, Joe The Peacock, was actually FIRED from Wal-Mart. I would say that only a retard could get fired from Wal-Mart, but even the door greeter with Down's Syndrome who once bit a female customer's inner thigh was still employed. Truly it was one of the low points of my life.
The following week, I visited the store to pick up my final paycheck, where I met up with the friend who initially referred me to the job. Fortunately, he was pretty tight with a few of the overnight employees, and he told me what had happened. In an attempt to frame me for theft, some of those magnificent meatheads had been using the inventory gun to scan items, increasing the inventory by one unit every morning, so that it looked like we had constant shrinkage. Pretty crafty, I must say, especially since the inventory system didn't record what time a change was made. The worst part was that the overnight manager, Darius, was apparently in on the whole scam as well.
I asked my friend what I had done to piss them off so badly. He replied: "Dude, you didn't do anything. These are simple people who are not worthy of your hatred. You don't belong in a job like Wal-Mart. Everyone knows it. One day, you will become a famous writer and amass a huge following. People will adore you and statues will be erected in your honor. A car will be named after you. You will eventually evolve into pure energy and understand the true nature of God."
Still, hearing all of this stuff about the conspiracy made me angry. And when anger is involved, revenge is not very far behind.
Next: the revenge!
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