Foam Alone

It’s the day of the regional manager’s visit to our store. As we start the morning activities to prepare for opening, my supervisor is doing his usual rounds to ensure everyone has clocked in. There’s one employee who always manages to get under his skin. This employee, a veteran of many years, has a unique routine; he clocks in and disappears into the restroom with a newspaper, a ritual that lasts approximately thirty to forty-five minutes. Every. Single. Day.

But today, the supervisor has a mischievous plan up his sleeve to even the score. The night before, two of the clerks engaged in a playful fire canister battle, leaving two canisters in the back room in need of a recharge.

The supervisor seizes one of the canisters and stealthily makes his way to the restroom. Little does he know, the regional manager has just arrived with an urgent need to use the facilities. The supervisor slips into the restroom, unnoticed by the regional manager, who is sighing with relief. He approaches the stall, positions the nozzle over the barrier, uncorks the canister, and lets it discharge all over the regional manager, who, to his dismay, is not the clerk engrossed in the newspaper. As the regional manager starts to protest, the supervisor, realizing his blunder, drops the canister and makes a hasty retreat to the front of the store.

The regional manager, still fuming, walks to the front of the store and summons all the employees to the front. His face is red with anger, and his voice echoes through the store as he yells and berates whoever it was that did this to him. Of course, no one ever confessed.

Why wasn’t the clerk in there instead of the regional manager? He stopped to put his coat in his locker. It was just a few seconds, and the regional manager was faster, just a matter of perfect timing.