When working at a supermarket, there are a lot of jobs that need to be done each day to keep things running smoothly.

What would you do if your manager would always give you the worst tasks because she didn’t like you?

That is what the worker in this story was dealing with, but one night he was able to time his work perfectly to ensure she had to clean up the garbage.

Check it out.

Don’t Waste Your Time & Keep Busy? Alrighty Then!

I worked as a casher/bagger at a local grocery store (pretty big chain in the mid-Atlantic US).

I started as a bagger and then was trained as a cashier after a year.

I got paid a bit over minimum wage and usually worked between 25-36 hours a week, mostly 7.5 hour shifts, so they didn’t have to give me a lunch, just a 15 minute break, which I wasn’t guaranteed.

It was a pretty bad job and people were always calling off; if you’ve worked or do work in retail, you can probably guess why.

So, there was usually a lot of available shifts, so long as you didn’t go over on your hours.

He would be making some good money as an 18 year old.

If you were part-time and over 18 (like I was), you couldn’t work more than 36 hours a week.

At the time of this story, I had been working there for about 3 years and was well liked by mostly everyone.

I had customers who would only check out with me if I was working and I generally just kept busy if things were slow.

I’d empty the trash cans under each register, refill bags, etc.

My supervisors generally had me in the express lanes on Sundays (always our busiest day) because they knew I could do the job and would do it right.

I didn’t want to rise to checkout coach (front end supervisor) because that would mean full-time and no social life.

So, I was happy where I was.

Important note: My store was known as a “training store”, meaning that we usually had a new manager every six months or so.

We had a rotation of general managers who were regular but always at least one “manager-in-training”.

Generally they’d move on after six months.

Sometimes they came back as a department manager (think like Dairy or Produce), but mostly we never saw them after their stint was up.

Sometimes we got some pretty good ones; most of them were not great. And then there was Mel.

Mel was a manager-in-training when I started working at 15.

She was/is also a lesbian.

Being a lesbian in a small town where being anything but hetero-normal in a predominantly red state in the early 2000’s was, well not very common.

And Mel was a full-blown feminist lesbian.

I don’t know if she had a bad experience with men or generally just saw men as the source of all her troubles.

Regardless, she generally didn’t treat us guys very well.

She had rotated out after six months and then my senior year, came back as the PM Front End Manager (FEM).

This meant that she was in charge of the checkout area from about 3:30 PM-12:30 AM.

After about 5, the GM’s generally went home and the department managers usually left about the same time.

So, after 5:00 PM, the Front End Manager was usually the person in charge of the entire store.

They could call a local GM should they absolutely need to, but they were expected to handle everything that came their way.

Our story takes place in August 2007.

I had turned 18 back in January.

This meant that I could legally work up to 36 hours and often did.

I was also known as the person who would almost always come in if someone called off.

Lo and behold, on a random Saturday afternoon, I took a shift working 4:00-11:00 PM as a bagger.

I told the manager that I would have to clock out by 10:45 or it would put me over my hours, which the store could get in big trouble for.

They said that would be fine.

I took the call at 2:30 and I clocked in at 4:00 on the dot.

He made sure everyone was aware.

Talked to the AM FEM to make sure I had to punch out by 10:45 and not a second later otherwise the store could be in serious trouble.

This is key for later.

I said sure, no problem.

I remember the AM FEM wrote it on the schedule that was keep at the front end.

If you were on the schedule as a bagger, that was what you were.

They could have you jump on a register if it got busy but they tried to keep as few lanes open as they could.

I was told by the AM FEM to jump on a register for a bit (after work rush) and then go out and do carts.

I did this and promptly went outside to collect carts.

It was a big lot (several acres) and people generally don’t put carts in the corrals.

As I was the only one doing carts and the day shift slacked off (it was hot that day), there were a lot of carts to collect.

I spent a good hour getting the carts back in the store.

When I came back in, the AM FEM was gone and in their place was Mel.

Mel and I usually butted heads at least once a month.

Nothing terrible but she was known for making me doing the bad parts of the job.

One time she made me pull an old cooler away from the wall to clean behind it because someone had spilled milk the day before and it had seeped underneath where the compressor was (and so smelled horrific), despite having trained custodial staff.

I’d have to mop floors, stock sugar and water, dust around registers, etc.

Mind you, she never made any of the girls do this, even if they were just standing around; just us guys and me in particular.

I have no idea why she disliked me so, but she did.

By this point, it was about 6:30.

Most of the cashiers were cleaning their belts and then leaving once their shift was up.

When I walked in from doing carts, Mel made a beeline for me and told me that I had to stock sugar and water immediately.

Biting my tongue, I went to the back to grab a cart to stock sugar and water.

This was annoying because it was the store brand five pound sugar containers that were never sealed well and the massive 24 pack water.

And while the sugar usually wasn’t bad, on a hot day, the water tended to sell out quick.

Which meant lots of stocking.

I spent another 30 minutes refilling the sugar and water.

Before heading back up, I stopped to hit the head and hydrate.

Once back up front, it was dead.

One cashier, the checkout coach, Mel…and me.

The cashier was a girl who I knew (I had dated her best friend briefly) and talked to every now and then.

He really does keep busy.

To keep from getting told to do something, I refilled the bags at the end of each lane and collected the baskets.

By now it was 7:00.

It was usually extremely dead at this point.

Because there wasn’t much to do, I started chatting with the cashier.

All of a sudden, I hear my name being called.

Mel: “[NAME] Come here!”

I walk over to the front end counter where she and her friend the checkout coach were just talking before she saw me talking to the cashier.

OP: “What’s up?”

Mel: “I know you like talking to the girls but you’re here to work, not waste my time!” You KNOW you’re supposed to keep busy. You’re wasting my time here. You can go and do garbage. NOW. And replace ALL the bags.”

I. WAS. MAD. Here I was working extra hours and I had to put up with with Mel. AND being told that I was slacking was it was known that I was a pretty good worker.

But…as I walked away, a plan formulated.

Garbage was just that: collecting garbage.

The store had approximately 50 garbage cans of all sizes inside the store, 4 outside by the entrances, 6 in the corrals and 8 at the gas station that was approximately 200 yards away.

Most of the bags were the big industrial-sized ones you can fit a Mini Cooper in.

Garbage detail was the worst.

Generally, if the day shift did it in the morning, it wasn’t bad.

But they never did.

We had to use what we called U-boats (inverted U shaped handles) to collect garbage, which is about as useful as a tanning bed in the Sahara.

You could only put a few bags on it at a time before it was full and you had to go slow so the bags didn’t fall off and rip.

Sometimes I’d tie the bags to the U-boat but that meant that they were free to swing around.

Because I just did the job the way they wanted, I was usually asked to do it but only if the bags were full or ripped.

Replacing all the bags, taking them through the store to the compactor and doing a good job took a minimum of two hours but usually closer to three.

Which was part of my plan.

And once you started garbage, you had to finish it, which was also part of my plan (management had problems with people timing it so they had to leave before doing half of the garbage).

I remember going to the back and finding exactly one U-boat free.

I always grabbed a new roll of bags when doing garbage.

Usually when doing garbage, I’d do the the ones nearest the compactor first so I didn’t need to put them on the U-boat; I’d just carry them back.

The only department I wasn’t allowed to do was the meat department (probably a safety thing with the knives and equipment).

Seems like an efficient way to do it.

So, I did all the garbage in the back of the store first and then worked my way forward, replacing all the bags as I went.

B/c the bags were HUGE, I’d have to tie them smaller so they’d fit the cans.

While this isn’t hard, they needed to be tight or the bag would fall inside the can and the can would need to be cleaned out using a hose and sanitizer (I never understood this).

I eventually make it to the front end, where I go through and get the garbage from behind the front end (Mel usually watched me…like legit would turn around and watch me do garbage).

The U-boat is full, so I wheel it back to the compactor which is now full.

As I was not a manager, I wasn’t allowed to run it.

So, I had to got get Mel to run it (there was a key to keep it off) which entailed her ordering me to stuff more garbage in it without helping me.

The compactor really was just a dumpster that compacted the trash.

The door we used only opened to the chute.

You had to be careful to make sure the compactor was retracted before adding more garbage to the chute, otherwise it could damage the machinery (that was the story I was told).

Mel, being the conscientious manager, made sure that it was retracted before I added more.

The snag was…the machine was slow, especially when the dumpster was empty.

There was no way to see how empty it was other than to listen to it and stop it when it seemed to be under stress.

As Mel was in a hurry to get back to the front end, ordered me to just stack the garbage in front of the door to the chute and to let her know when I was done with garbage and then I could add the garbage to the chute with her running the compactor.

Problem was, I was now heading outside.

This was the part that took the longest as cans next to the entrance were ALWAYS full, the corrals were pretty far apart and their cans were ALWAYS full (I found a whole fake Christmas tree in a corral garbage can once).

And then there was the gas station cans, which were ALWAYS full.

This was going to take at least an hour (it was already about 9:00) if I was in a hurry, which I wasn’t.

Why not, you ask?

Because it was Saturday night.

And Saturday night meant that the local farm took their migrant workers out to do their weekly shopping and to wire money back to their families via Western Union.

And this farm employed A LOT of migrant workers.

Think of a couple of school buses worth.

And where was the local Western Union station?

Behind our Front End.

Who was allowed operate the terminal?

Checkout Coaches and Managers.

How long does it take to send one person’s money?

She is going to be busy for hours.

About five minutes.

And I knew, because I knew the farmer, that he chose Saturday because that’s usually when the Western Union terminal is free.

He usually came around 9:00 or so.

So I act all meek and mild and go outside to do garbage.

I do the corrals first and take them in and pile them up outside the compactor.

The corrals’ cans were always disgusting; people put EVERYTHING in those cans.

As I’m going outside for the cans nearest the entrance, I see the farmer’s bus pull into the lot.

I counted as 32 workers get off the bus and walk into the store.

I looked at my watch (this is before cell phones, kiddos) and it is 9:15.

Perfect.

I take my sweet time doing the garbage by the entrance and even got the one in front of Blockbuster, just to use up more time, dragging my feet all the while.

By now its 9:40.

I take a load in.

Mel is hard at work at the Western Union computer, wiring money.

I’ll say this for her; she worked hard.

But it was bittersweet because these workers haven’t been around women much and, even though they’re speaking Spanish, they’re talking to her and hitting on her.

Mel, who is Hispanic but doesn’t look it, understands every word.

I’m sure it pained her little black heart to smile as each worker tried hitting on her or talking to her.

I take the garbage back, piling up the bags in front of the chute.

The pile is now waist high.

And it reeks; its August remember.

Back to the gas station.

I take my sweet time and get all of the gas station bags and the bag in the “hut” in two trips.

This take another 45 minutes, mainly due to the slow walk back.

Each time I make sure to just breeze back to the compactor, piling the bags and heading back outside.

I made sure one bag ripped so I had to stop and put that bag in another bag (don’t want to leave a mess now do we?).

And then take it back inside.

I drop off the U-boat and clean it off (we had to hose it down otherwise the smell would be….worse?).

We usually cleaned it off with a hose and a disinfectant.

So, I made sure that U-boat was REALLY clean.

I spent ten minutes hosing it down and getting it nice and pretty.

Perfect timing.

It is now 10:40, five minutes before I have to punch out.

I walk very slowly up to the front end.

Mel has gotten through about half of the migrant workers.

The migrant workers are just shooting the bull and having a good time not working and flirting with the cashier.

Most of them went back to the bus to wait (I know some of them were not legal).

OP: “Mel, the garbage is all done.”

Mel: “What…oh. Good. Did you throw it down the chute?”

OP: “Nope. You told me to come find you so you could compact it.”

Mel: “Just go back there and throw it in the chute. I’m busy!”

OP: “Sorry Mel…no can do.”

Mel: “What do you mean? [NAME], go throw the garbage in the chute!”

OP: “I can’t. I need to leave.”

I swear she turned tomato red.

Mel: “You. Can’t. LEAVE. Go throw the garbage away and do it now. I’m writing you up for insubordination!”

OP: “Does that mean I get overtime pay?”

Mel: “What?! NO! Why would you get overtime?”

OP: “Because I need to punch out in about a minute or I’ll be over my hours and you’ll have to explain to the GM why I have to get overtime pay.”

Mel: “You’re…what?”

I explained quickly that I was already at my max hours for the week.

The AM FEM had cleared this with the GM that I punch out at 10:45 PM and had written it down on the schedule.

All the while, the checkout coach is trying to ring up some of the migrant workers and the cashier is signaling that she needs a manager’s help.

Mel looked like she was going to have a conniption but she can’t because my butt is covered.

I punched out, grabbed my keys from my locker and headed out the door.

The cherry on top?

I found out later that Mel had to throw the garbage out herself.

After it had sat in the back for several hours and blocked the door, meaning that she had to move each bag at least twice.

This sounds disgusting.

Because the bags weren’t the greatest quality, many of them ripped, spilling foul smelling garbage everywhere, forcing her to then clean the floor (food was stored there short term before it was moved to the shelves).

Since she was always a sharp dresser, I have no doubt she had to get some clothes professionally laundered if not just throw it out.

It was almost one when she was able to leave from what I heard.

Even worse for her?

She was salaried so it didn’t matter how many hours she worked, she didn’t get paid any more.

I wish I could say that this stopped her being insufferable but it didn’t.

She couldn’t say anything to me though because I was just making sure I didn’t waste any more time and kept busy.

He worked hard and managed to get some great revenge, well done.

Let’s take a look at the comments and see what other people have to say.

Here is someone who didn’t like the story.

I doubt she would have learned a lesson.

It must have been repulsive.

This person thinks the story was too long.

This would have been good as well.

I bet she was livid.

And stinky.

If you liked that post, check out this post about a woman who tracked down a contractor who tried to vanish without a trace.