I’ve been lucky to mostly work with great people through most of my jobs. Every now and then, however, a real piece of work slips in. This jolly fellow was actually quite pleasant to hang around with off the clock; ON the clock, however, it seemed like everything else on planet Earth was a priority besides what he was actually being paid to do.
It came to a head one day when our manager was out and, being most senior, I was technically in charge of the four resident goons despite not having an official title. It should be noted that we didn’t have individual stations; we had one desk that had the [Shipping Company #1] machine, another desk that had the [Shipping Company #2] machine, and two long benches where we stacked, scanned, and boxed orders.
Me: “Hey, [Coworker], are you gonna get those [Shipping Company #1] boxes done?”
Coworker: “Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t worry.”
Me: “Yeah, starting to worry. You’ve had those two things on the desk for fifteen minutes now. I’ve done literally twenty [Shipping Company #2] orders in that time.”
Coworker: “I’m getting to it!”
Me: “It should not have taken more than five minutes. What—”
At this point, I’d come around the desk. He had some joke-of-the-day site up, full-screened, a Word document with “script” in the title showing in the taskbar, and neither our software nor the [Shipping Company #1] software even open.
Me: “Dude, we’ve got work to do!”
Coworker: “It doesn’t matter. They’re not gonna be here for what, four hours? That’s plenty of time!”
Me: “Yeah, and in those four hours, we’re gonna get about a hundred other orders, with no way of knowing how many for each carrier. We can’t just put it off to the last minute expecting things to be slow all day.”
Coworker: “Whatever. I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll do it when I get back.”
And with that, he just walked off. I finished the [Shipping Company #1] he left behind, and the rest of us continued on. And on. And on.
Fully half an hour later, with all of us wondering what had happened, [Coworker] strolled back in.
Me: “Dude, where have you been?”
Coworker: “It don’t matter.”
Me: “Uh, it does matter when you’re on the clock.”
Coworker: “IT. DON’T. MATTER. Don’t you care about what I’m doing. It don’t matter if I’m in the kitchen making coffee or if I decide to go off to the bathroom and play with myself!”
The other two guys made assorted disgusting noises, and I locked eyes with him. My tone goes ice cold and staccato when I’m angry, which I’m told is accompanied by a “Kubrick Stare.”
Me: “First off, don’t ever say that, around any of us, again. Second, yes, it does matter. I am sick and tired of having to rush at the end of the day to finish the stuff you leave behind.”
Coworker: “Bull! When do you do that?”
Me: “EVERY. DAY.”
Coworker #2: “Pretty much.”
Coworker #3: “Yeah, we got a whole pile right now, man. Stop b****ing and get it worked down!”
Did he, in fact, start doing his job? NOPE. He “needed to cool down,” so he took a walk around the entire corporate center parking lot for ANOTHER half-hour, and when he got back, he was still almost physically shaking with anger and saying he was gonna have it out with the manager when he got back. I had already left a voicemail and email with said manager by that point, and yes, there were cameras to prove that he was gone from the warehouse for an hour straight. The manager “wasn’t allowed to tell me” that they docked him an hour’s pay for those stunts.
I’d give him the benefit of the doubt for being a fresh-faced kid with no life experience, but he was a decade older than me and ex-military! Not long afterward, he found another job and put in his two-week notice; they “let him” just leave.
Related:
And Nothing Of Value Was Lost
