Like A Cat Right Before Dinner Time

I used to work in a pet store with a phenomenal manager and an amazing team of coworkers. As with all retail, we all dreaded Inventory Day, though more so the following day of putting the store back together while still serving customers. Our manager was very careful to make sure all work was divided as fairly and evenly as possible, never failing to include himself in chore assignments, and we were encouraged to help each other out whenever possible or to ask for help ourselves if we needed it.

One of his stipulations was that anyone assigned to redress the cat aisle didn’t have to do any other organization since the cat aisle had the most small pieces of any section. On my second or third post-Inventory Day day, I was assigned to the cat aisle.

Unfortunately, our district manager had decided to visit our store that day, and he had a bad habit of getting in the way and generally being an unhelpful nuisance while thinking he was being “motivating.” I was working on blocking the canned cat foods (of which there were literally thousands in three different sizes) which anyone could see was going to be a time-consuming task, but I found I could make good time working from top shelf to bottom in a roughly one-foot block at a time.

I was at this for perhaps ten minutes before [District Manager] popped around the corner.

District Manager: *Cheerfully* “[My Nickname]! How’s it going over here?”

Me: *Amiably* “Slow and steady, but we’ll get there!”

District Manager: “All right, just make sure it all gets done!”

Me: “Don’t worry; it will.”

[District Manager] left, and I continued my careful stacking and sorting of the hundreds of tiny cans around me. Another roughly ten minutes went by, barely enough for me to finish the one-foot section I’d started on, and he came back.

District Manager: *Still cheerful* “How’s it looking over here, [My Nickname]?”

I was trying not to be rude but wondered how much progress he expected.

Me: “I mean, there are a lot of cans to stack, and I’m trying to make it look nice.”

District Manager: “All right, just make sure it’s done!”

Me: “It will be; it’s just gonna take a while.”

He left again, and I foolishly dared to hope that that was the end of it and that I could work in peace. I really should have known better, as [District Manager] was a micromanager who understood surprisingly little about pets or running a pet store.

Another ten or so minutes later:

District Manager: *Still cheerful* “[My Nickname]! Getting close to done yet?”

I was out of patience and snapped a little.

Me: “[District Manager], do you want this done quickly or do you want it done well?”

District Manager: *Startled* “I, um, I’d like it done well.”

Me: “Then shoo!”

I turned back to the wall to keep stacking my cans, and I saw [District Manager] quietly slip away out of the corner of my eye. From the next aisle over, in a tone that suggested he was shrugging, I heard my manager say, “I TOLD you to leave her alone.”

I did not get in trouble, and the cat aisle looked FLAWLESS.