This Is Nice, But Dear God, Is The Bar Low
I’m stationed in the outdoor/garden area of the store on a bright summer day. I’m pretty good with hot weather — usually. Today, I am not, so when I have a break between customers, I call my supervisor.
Supervisor: “Hey, [My Name], do you need something?”
Me: “Not really. I was just wondering if I could come inside. I’m not handling the heat as well as I usually do.”
Supervisor: “I’ll be right out with somebody to take your place.”
She arrives in less than five minutes with one of my coworkers behind her to swap out with me. [Coworker] and I wave to each other as I follow [Supervisor] back into the store.
Me: “So, where do you want me? Self-checkout, registers, lumber?”
Supervisor: “I want you in the break room for at least half an hour. If you still don’t feel well by then, let us know.”
Me: *Chuckling* “I’m just a little warm, [Supervisor].”
Fifteen minutes later, I was in the store bathroom throwing up.
Once I had recovered enough to be sure it wouldn’t happen again — at least for a while — I told [Supervisor] that I was going home to actually rest and thanked her for letting me go. She gave me strict orders to pull over if I started feeling unwell while driving, and then she saw me off.
Thank you, [Supervisor].