To refill shelves is tedious work. First, one would go through the aisle, survey the products to determine what needed to be refilled. Then go to the back of the store and pull from the overstock storage, or what was known as overhead. Drag the desired boxes back to the aisle, and place new products behind old ones. Then finish up with digitally entering the amount you stock and drag the leftovers back to overhead.
This is how it was at Gossi's Groceries. And it was tedious work. Especially to the 25-year-old Elliot Callahan. But he didn't mind, it paid the bills. That was definitely a plus. The biggest advantage, however, was that he had quiet time all night long, especially if you ignored the bad taste of music coming from the overhead speakers. Which he did. Constantly.
Of course, he did answer questions of anyone who patronized the store. Even if they were a "Karen." But those questere were too few to remember. So it was mostly silence for the graveyard shift worker and he liked it that way.
Any overtime that he worked forced him into the morning rush crowd. This was the worst thing that could happen to him and it usually resulted in interrupting his whole day schedule. So he tried as hard as he could to get out on time.
So it was a shock to him when he fired up his handheld and saw his workload. It had six sections, instead of the usual three. With this amount, he was looking at some serious overtime. Clearly, this had to be a mistake.
But if it wasn't a mistake, chances were that he'd be written up. Wait, there'd be no chances. He would definitely be written up, he'd seen it before with other employees.
He made a b-line straight to the managers' office. And when he got there, the door was closed but he could hear voices coming from inside. He stopped for a second, collecting himself. It didn't do him any good going into this with any kind of emotion. Calmly, he knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Opening the door, he saw Ralph, who was the evening shift manager, doing the handover procedure with his relief, Thomas. Now Thomas was the night shift manager, which meant Thomas was his supervisor. It was Ralph who acknowledged him, "Good evening, Elliot. What's up?"
"Good evening. I think there's an error on my handheld," Elliot held out the handheld for inspection. "It's showing that I have six sections tonight..?"
Ralph raised a brow and proceeded to give the handheld a once-over. But Thomas didn't need to look at it. With a nod, he confirmed, "That's correct. Lana and Emil both called off tonight. We need you to be a team player and pick up the slack."
"That's fine," Elliot sighed, realizing tomorrow was gonna be so screwed up now. "But, you do know that's gonna put me in serious overtime for tonight, right?"
"Not if you're quick with your tasks tonight."
Thomas' answer got looks from both Elliot and Ralph. Looking between them, Ralph decided to interject, "Tom, nobody's that quick. Elliot's right, this workload would cause anyone to have overtime."
"I don't mind doing it." That was a lie. Elliot did mind, but there was nothing he could do about it. Especially since this was done deliberately. He, however, could mitigate the damage later. "But can I have written authorization to work overtime?"
"What are you? Three?"
"No, sir. I'm only twenty-five. That's why I'm asking for written authorization and not verbal permission. You know, proof that we're talking about this right now." Elliot corrected and then added, "But I can act like a three year old if y'all want"
This got a chuckle out of Ralph, but Thomas found this less funny. The man was staring daggers at Elliot. Ralph just grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled something, signed it, and handed it over. "I'll approve it. You better get going, those six sections aren't going to do themselves."
Quickly double checking that the paper was actually an authorization note, Elliot nodded and left the office to start his shift.
-
It was after completing one section that he heard the crackle of lightning. That, or it was the flickering of the light that drew his attention. "So that's why those two called off."
There were some employees that would call off for the littlest of reasons. And Lana and Emil were among them. They should've been fired after the first few, but Thomas always managed to find it in his "heart" to forgive him. And so, they were never fired.
This left Thomas unpopular with the rest of the night staff, especially since he did no extra work himself. They were the ones who had to pick up the slack and they were getting pretty tired of it. But tonight was a bit different.
Whenever those two called off, everyone would get one-to-two extra sections to balance them out. It was unheard of for someone to get three extra shifts. It felt intentional, as if Thomas was setting him up.
Thank god for him catching Ralph at handover.
"There you are!" Elliot heard behind him, which almost caused him to drop the oatmeal box he was holding. Quickly turning, he managed to discover who needed his attention.
It happened to be none other than Mrs. Werntz, a kind old lady who preferred the electric scooter over walking. And who could blame her? She just happened to be a regular, since she started coming a year ago.
"Ah, Mrs. Werntz! Don't tell me, it's Thursday already?"
"Young man, it's actually Tuesday of all days. Please don't tell me you're going senile as well." This last part was a joke on her part. Mrs. Werntz was as sharp as a needle, and she knew it.
"Well, we can't all remember things, such as days," Elliot winked, displaying a full-blown smile on his face. This conversation didn't impede his work at all, still stocking the oatmeal boxes. After punching in eight boxes into the handheld, he continued, "So how can I help you today?"
"Oh," the lady reached into her purse, pulling out a brown box accented with green ribbon. It reminded him of a grass block from Minecraft. "Unfortunately, I have been away from my home for far too long and I'm afraid that I'm needed back. I made you something since you've taken such good care of me this past year."
Elliot blinked, turning to face her completely. There she was holding out the box for him. He looked down at the box and then back to her. Clearly, he had heard her correctly. "You're leaving… like for good?"
She just nodded.
"But.. who's gonna pester me..." A roar of thunder interrupted, so Elliot quickly added, "..on a stormy night like this? Speaking of which, should you really be out tonight?"
"Not really." Her answer was curt and straight to the point. The box was still held out, awaiting to be taken.
He sighed, ultimately taking the box from her hand. Opening it, he found a leather bracelet with several charms woven in. Only one of the charms had markings at all, which happened to be a magnifying glass. "Wow."
"You like it?"
Taking it from the box, he tried it on. It was definitely the right size, no need for any kind of adjustment. He turned his wrist over to observe it. "It's really nice. Thank you."
"I hope you don't mind, but I had to use one of my sister's charms. I ran out of mine, else it would be a plant sprout instead of a magnifying glass," Mrs. Werntz explained the mishap she had to deal with to create the piece. But Elliot could care less.
It was a gift and he wasn't willing to look that gift horse in the mouth, "Of course I don't mind. Soo your sister has a thing for magnifying glasses?"
"It's more like it represents her. She loves to uncover secrets and 'predicting' the future."
"Ah, a gossiper."
This caused Mrs. Werntz to let out a full belly laugh. "Oh, she's gonna be upset when I tell her you call her that."
"Please apologize on my behalf," Elliot put a hand in front as if he was praying. Then he continued to stock the shelves, "So where's home?"
"Best way to explain it… Europe," Mrs Werntz concluded after a few minutes of thought.
"Europe, huh." Elliot paused for a second. "How the hell did you find yourself in America?"
"Maybe I was looking for someone like you?" she answered dismissively.
"Well, did you find him?" He was truly going to miss these cat & mouse style questions. But there was no way that he was going to follow her to Europe just to have these conversations.
"Did I? I wonder…" she gave him a smirk that made him worry. "Anyway I need to grab a few things for the road. I'll come back before I leave."
As she was backing up, he called out jokingly, "Just remember that the Wherthers are in the candy aisle!"
He received such a glare and she was determined to keep it up until out of sight. It brought him a smile when he heard her call out "I'm too young for Wherthers!" as she retreated towards the frozen aisle.
Of all the things he was going to miss, he had to admit that Mrs. Werntz definitely took the cake. In fact, he found her being the only acceptable person that could interrupt his quiet time. And now, he was going to lose that.
Today wasn't wrapping up to be a good day.
-
With the cereal aisle/section done, that meant a third of Elliot's work was done. And in that time, his mood had taken a dive. He'll have to deal with the fact his Thursdays would now be somewhat duller. Hopefully, he'd find a way to deal with the soon-to-be loss.
He now had a choice. Either do the dairy section or the pasta section. He weighed his options. Now pasta was just a few aisles, while the dairy section also included filling gallon cartons besides stocking. Dairy, to be honest, was definitely a pain to deal with. So he elected to deal with the pasta section first.
It had been a no brainer.
But before he could attend to the pasta, he had to clean up, break down empty boxes, transport the excess back to overhead, etc. And he found a way to save time by stopping by his next aisle and performing his mandatory check. To do this, he kept a little notepad and jotted down notes. This helped him confirm the digital list at the end of the night.
The storm was in full bloom now. There were a few lightning strikes, which caused the lights to flicker, only for the booms of thunder to follow right after. Why there hadn't been some kind of storm warning had him puzzled.
There might have been one, but Thomas was keeping it silent. It definitely felt like something he would do. As soon as he was off the store floor, he was going to check the weather on his phone.
Alright, so he needed the off-brand noodles, store-brand macaroni, and the store-brand angel hair pasta. Of course, he couldn't forget the instant Mac and Cheese. As well as several different kinds of pasta sauce. With a quick count, it was clear. He was going to need at least two pallets for this aisle.
Now knowing exactly what he needed, he proceeded with his journey to the back of the store.
-
Elliot was almost to the double doors when he heard an "excuse me." He stopped his pallet driver and took a mental sigh. Policy stated that he was to help any customer that reached out to him. That included the entitled breed of human-kind known as a 'Karen'. He hoped- no, he mentally pleaded for the woman not to be a Karen.
"Yes, ma'am. How may I help yo-" Elliot turned towards the source of the interruption. What he expected was a middle-aged woman with a beehive haircut that just screamed 'Karen', but the woman wasn't clearly that.
She was a woman, to be sure. But she definitely seemed out of place. For starters, her long dirty blonde hair had to be ankle length. He never did find out as he eyed her green gown with leaves sewn in. Her ears had to be prosthetic- they were pointy like elf ears.
Elliot had to regain his composure, reminding himself that he'd seen costumes like this when there was a convention in town. But was there one in town this weekend? He wasn't sure. There had to be. Why else would she be dressed this way?
And that's when he noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes.
"I apologize," Elliot sighed, closing his eyes. Then regaining his composure, he continued, "I see that you aren't wearing any shoes. Health regulations require all shoppers to be wearing some kind of shoes. I must ask you to leave and come back when you have shoes."
"But what if I'm not a shopper?" the Lady inquired. This was met by a very audible sigh from Elliot. This isn't what he needed right now.
She was obviously trying to bend the rules to her advantage. He wasn't going to let her, "Look, clearly I misspoke. The rule is meant for everyone. If you would just please put on a pair of shoes, then I would be more than happy to help you. Now if-"
"But it's storming outside," She pointed out, literally pointing to the metal roof. She was clearly not right in the head.
"Yes, it is." He just agreed with her, not trying to offend her. He would have to choose his words carefully. He wished he knew what to say to send this lady away so he could do his job. "Unfortunately, I can't bend the rules for anyone. Corporate policy. Again, I would be happy to help you out when you return wearing shoes-"
"Okay, I'm wearing shoes!"
"We both know that there's no way-" Elliot lost his voice as he looked down to see her feet wrapped in leaves.
First off, there was no way she could put on a pair of shoes in the amount of time WITH him watching her. She didn't even bend down. And secondly, those were shoes? They looked like leaves wrapped around her feet. Who did she think she was fooling?
Then he reminded himself that she was cosplaying and that must just be flip flops with leaves surrounding them. He sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Either she 'magicked' them on or he'd been working too much. His money was on him working too much.
"Now that I have shoes, can you help me out?" She asked, fidgeting. "Now that I have shoes, can you help me out?" She asked, fidgeting. He noticed the constant shifting of her eyes towards the ceiling. Was she afraid of thunderstorms? If she was, how didn't she show it until now?
"Okay then," Elliot sighed, lowering his head. It was better to just deal with this quickly and get it over with, "how may I assist you?"
The lady sighed as a smile of relief lit up her face. All she could say before waving her hand in front of his face was "Thank you so much!'
And just like that, Elliot's world went dark.
-
--<--0---0-->--
-
With a gasp, Elliot sat up. This proved to be the wrong decision as he invoked the worst migraine he'd ever experienced. It had to be the mother-of-all migraines. But it wasn't the end of the world. He'll just have to pop some Ibuprofen and probably some Advil just to get over this.
Once he could safely move, he'd have to leave and get medical help from the nearest Emergency Room. The closest one had to be Saint Linus', but he'll look it up on his phone before he'll go. And Thomas wouldn't be able to stop him from going.
Hell, Thomas might fire him for leaving, but having a medical record could prove a wrongful termination case.
Elliot tried to piece together what had happened to him. Last thing he remembered was talking to the cosplayer before blacking out. Somebody could've struck the back of his head? But he recalled that felt a lack of pain. To make sure he felt the back of his head.
No pain. But…
He grasped his hair. It was longer than he remembered. How long was he out?
Had it been long enough for his hair to grow? And if he'd been out for that long, why wasn't he at the hospital?
A quick glance of the room that he was in told him that he was definitely not in a hospital room. There were no medical supplies, no monitors, and this bed that he'd been laying on was stationary. No self-respecting hospital in the States used stationary beds. They used mobile beds to allow them to move their patients if need be.
So where on Earth was he?