Thanks For Doing… Literally Nothing

Back when I was just out of high school, I got a job in the sporting goods department of a popular Canadian store. Because it was my third job, I could only work limited hours, mostly limited to weekday evenings. Evenings were LAX in this store. I was set the task of restocking the fishing lure aisle (the most nitpicky job), but the other two associates in my area just goofed off all night each night while I worked my butt off in that fishing aisle with the thousands of lures and price tags. The assistant manager rode around the store on a toddler bike — not exactly high performing. Plus, they made me buy the ugly red sweatshirt uniform.

One night, a couple of weeks into the job, an older man came up to me and asked for help finding an item in housewares. I couldn’t find an associate in housewares, so I walked him over myself. On the way, he started making inappropriate comments toward me, focusing on specific details of my looks and talking about what he wanted me to do with him. I put on my retail face, found his item, and sent him on his way as quickly as I could.

I talked to my manager at the start of my shift the next day. I brought up the incident and asked if there was camera footage since there were cameras all over the place.

Manager: “The cameras are all dummy cameras. There’s nothing we can do.”

Me: “Well, what about the next time it happens?”

Manager: “Just find a manager if you can.”

Right. Find a manager who’s riding around the store on a tiny bicycle while pretending to help a creepy man and not alerting him to what I’m doing. That’s the best you have?

Three days later, at the start of my shift, I was pulled into a private room by my manager and let go, presumably because I couldn’t work enough hours.

I was never so happy to be fired in my life.