I work in a superstore warehouse. We have one coworker who’s perfected the art of looking busy while accomplishing absolutely nothing. He’s gotten away with it so far because the rest of us – naïve idiots that we are – will cover for him as we just want to finish on time and go home.
Until a new manager comes on board, who releases a memo that individual warehouse aisles will be assigned to individual people. This coworker will no longer be able to hide behind the rest of us doing his job for him.
He’s also too lazy to read the memos, as is about to become very clear:
Manager: “Let’s make sure everything from [new shipment] is sorted before lunch.”
Me: “Got it.”
Coworker: “Yep, on it.”
Translation: I’ll cut open two boxes, take a lap, and disappear behind the breakroom door while everyone else does it.
Two hours later, I’ve sorted half a pallet. [Coworker]’s section? Still full, boxes mostly untouched.
Then the regional manager shows up unannounced for a walk-through.
Manager: “Let’s show him how organized we are in back.”
Coworker: *Rushing back to feign the appearance of looking busy.* “Why is this pile untouched?”
Me: “You mean your pile?”
Coworker: “You mean our pile?”
Me: “Didn’t you read the memo? Pallet stacks are assigned to individual workers now. That pile is all yours.”
Cue panic. Realizing his stack hasn’t moved, he rushes over and starts shuffling boxes frantically, not reading labels, not checking SKUs, just stacking to make it look neat. As the manager and regional manager turn the corner:
Coworker: “Totally under control here!”
He slaps the last box onto the pile just as the regional manager rounds the corner.
Manager: “[Coworker], did you sign off on this?”
Coworker: “Yep! Fully sorted.”
The regional manager raises an eyebrow, picks up the top box, clearly labeled ‘Frozen Goods – Freezer Aisle’. Inside are melted popsicles, on top of a pallet marked ‘Toaster Ovens’
Regional Manager: “So… you sorted frozen food into general appliances?”
Coworker: “…They, uh, might’ve been mislabeled.”
Manager: “They were stored in a freezer truck.”
I’m standing nearby with a clipboard, watching my coworker squirm as the manager turns to me.
Manager: “Did you handle your pallet?”
Me: “Yes, and I left the frozen goods in the actual freezer.”
My coworker starts muttering something about miscommunication. As he’s doing so, I start innocently tapping my pen on the large box labeled ‘Keep Frozen’ in two-inch red letters.
He was put on probation and was gone within two weeks. We were much more efficient without him.