Typical Day
First of the month—so why even bother setting an alarm? That's Sam's first thought upon waking up. As a sales worker supervisor for the past three years, she barely needs a calendar or an alarm. Sam's completely in tune with time and space. Turkey is suddenly on sale? Must be November first. Better grab a coat.
The first of the month means new sales store-wide and the introduction of new products in the big box membership store where Sam's been working the past six years. As she pulls on her black khakis and tucks in a store logo golf shirt, she wonders what new products they're getting.
There will be a big meeting this morning to brief everyone on what's just come in. Sam can't wait. That's her favorite part of the job—learning about new things, and then (of course) convincing customers to buy them.
After a tiny breakfast of coffee and toast, Sam sets off early for the twenty-minute drive to work. She wants to get there in time to snag one of the chocolate-glazed, cream-filled donuts that will be waiting in the break room. After all, she didn't practically skip breakfast for nothing.
Arriving ten minutes early, Sam parks in the employee section and heads across the jammed parking lot to the big double doors. On the first of the month, it's always a zoo. But Sam loves animals.
Just inside the door, Sam nods good morning to a co-worker who's helping a customer. She'll be lucky if she can make it upstairs without getting caught by—
"Oh, Samantha, dear. Finally, someone to help me. Can you tell me where the vitamins are? I can't seem to find them again. You should really tell that manager to quit moving things around."
Sam represses a sigh. It's Mrs. Henderson. She's a nice enough person, but she's always shopping...and always wants Sam to be her personal shopping assistant. She puts on a big smile and a chipper tone, even though she's cursing her bad timing. "Good morning, Mrs. Henderson. Remember to check the overhead signs? The vitamins are on aisle five. I'm on my way to a meeting. Is there anything else I can help you with before I go upstairs?"
Mrs. Henderson pats Sam on the arm. "No, dear. I don't want to keep you. Besides, at my age, I'm bound to forget something. So, I'll see you later this week."
Sam smiles and secretly hopes Mrs. Henderson returns on her off day. "It's good seeing you. Enjoy shopping."
Sam scoots away as fast as she can without looking rude and heads up the stairs to the break room. Halfway there, she's joined by the team leader, John, who loves to torment her about her "favorite" shopper.
"Hey, Sam. I see your Monday's starting off great. Your career as a personal shopping assistant is really going to take off."
"Oh, hush. She's a nice old lady. I hope I'm able to get out and do as well as she does at eighty-something."
As Sam approaches the snack table, John is already stuffing a cream-filled donut in his mouth. "She's in her eighties? Wow. Didn't know that. But, she has blue hair. Isn't that what all the kids are wearing these days?" John asks, as he eyes another donut.
"Whoa, hands off! A personal shopper has to keep up her strength, you know."
John holds up both hands in a mock stick-up, shrugs, and moves on to the other end of the table for some coffee.
Just as they settle at a table, the store manager gets the meeting underway. He unveils the five new products they're starting to sell, reminds everybody that all the turkeys and Thanksgiving decorations are on sale now, and then announces a big surprise.
"As you know, we're always looking for new ways to serve our members better. You'll hear more about this over the next thirty days until we begin. For now, I want you to know we will be starting a personal shopping assistance program for our top tier members to use once per month...."
Sam doesn't even hear his last sentence. She's too busy imagining spending a whole work day with Mrs. Henderson.
After the meeting, Sam checks with the front end workers to make sure everyone has been given a break. One of them hasn't, so she chats with some other workers and convinces one of them to take on an extra half-hour (compensated, of course) so that the poor break-less worker can get half an hour to play Flappy Bird.
She puts new paper rolls in three registers and resets one of the self-checkouts so it can be used again.
Once her routine check-up is done, Sam gets started on her project for the day: setting up the new product displays. She starts putting them up by the incoming door. Then, she moves the displays several feet to the left so they won't cause a traffic jam at the door. People can't buy stuff if they can't get inside.
After a thirty-minute lunch at 11:45AM, Sam does a quick check of sales numbers as compared to the same day last year, relieves a couple of the cashiers for a break, and checks on membership upsells and credit card sign-ups. The numbers are lagging, so she gives each cashier a little pep-talk reminder. Daily goal numbers are set for a reason—to hit them.
Once everything in Sam's area is under control, she heads upstairs to write a few weekly evaluations and complete the afternoon sales report. Mid-management—it's a glamorous life.
Back downstairs with just over an hour to go, things are moving smoothly at the checkouts, so Sam heads back to the new product display area. There are already some gaps in the display—things seem to be selling well. Sam starts rearranging items so that there aren't any unsightly blank spaces. She's completely lost in the task when a voice behind her brings her back to reality.
"Dearie, can you help me find the registers? I've been all over this store and there's simply no place to pay for my things."
Sam gives John a withering look. "Laugh it up, funny boy. I have a plan."
"What? A 'find a new job' plan?
"Oh, no. Mrs. Henderson is coming in later this week. I'm going to tell her how you always say she reminds you of a favorite aunt. Or, better yet, a classic actress from the golden days of Hollywood."
John stares at Sam in horror. "You wouldn't."
Sam just smiles sweetly. "Time for me to clock out. We'll have to finish this little discussion later."
Her battle won, Sam clocks out and drives back home. Her feet hurt from standing all day, even with her orthopedic inserts. She puts them up for half an hour and flicks through Instagram before hauling herself back up to make a well-deserved spaghetti dinner.
After the dishes have been rinsed and stashed in the dishwasher, Sam does some yoga to get rid of the lower back pain that she's developed after a day of rushing around on her feet. She watches some funny cat videos and, around 10:00PM, showers and rolls into bed. It's a skill she's been developing for a long time.