He was doubtful anyone would pay that much (350-), and I reminded him we’d sold a four-place set of Dansk silverware for 125-. People will pay antique store prices for super cool rare finds.
He consulted with the other underling manager, and together they decided to try them in store for a month.
Such is the high-wattage decision making power at the store. At any rate, I’m glad AM and I are maintaining the “professional workplace relationship” I’d told him I wanted after his denial of any drunken wrongdoing.
I’d rather have the dignity of being honest about my wrong-doings than the indignity of weaseling out of responsibility. But that’s just me, not certain …leaders (imagine air quotes).
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Lunch (by me) yesterday was pulled chicken in barbecue sauce with fluffy white buns (thanks, k., for suggesting the element of “fluff”) and coleslaw. I hadn’t had time to get to the food shelf (very limited hours, all during the workday—really NOT good for “the working poor”), so I used the $25 gift card to Aldi a volunteer had given me for that purpose (feeding coworkers).
I ended up spending $8 of my own too because ALDIs $2 barbecue sauce was basically pancake syrup (first ingredient = corn syrup). I used it anyway, but the chicken tasted like the chicken in sweet-and-sour American Chinese takeout (where’s the sour?). I drained it off, stopped at the co-op, and found a sauce with tomato first, then vinegar, then sugar. Organic and vegan. For your barbecue tempeh, I guess. Basically tomato paste with spice, it cost $8, but it was good.
I’ve made my own bbq sauce in the past—easy, but messy—and easy I’m trying to keep this fast and with as little cleanup as possible because one thing I dislike is doing dishes. And if I’m going to keep doing this, as I’d like to, I need to practice Resentment Management by keeping it cheap ‘n’ easy. I am no selfless angel.
My workplace, as I’ve said many times, is rich in resentment opportunities. After three workdays away, I returned yesterday to see that my coworkers had dumped book and toy donations in such a way to block my workspace aisle. Toys are easy enough to shift, but boxes of books aren’t. I spent half the day digging out. Thanks a lot, my darling m’fuckers.
I know why they do it—they’re old men in poor health tasked with moving truckloads of crap. But jesus… Lengthwise, people! I tell them, but it does not take.
I don’t know much about Marxist thought, but it occurred to me I’m seeing the inner workings of Maintenance of Poverty: people do not pull together, do not pool resources, do not think in cost/benefit terms. Definitely a mistrust keeps everyone working for himself at their own detriment.
I’ve suggested, for instance, that we chip in together to buy cases of pop, which would equal about 25 cents/can. But everyone prefers to run across the street to the little shop that sells it for $1.50/can. I expect they think someone would take more than their fair share of the case of pop. I believe they’re right, but a person would have to take [oh no, math!]… uh, a bunch of cans (5?) before you were paying more than $1.50 for your can.
This self-defeating lack of pulling together can look like stupidity, but I believe it’s learned helplessness + learned distrust, plus a big scoop of exhaustion. Result: My coworkers are NOT ripe for radicalization. Including Mr Furniture, the guy who’s always talking about The Master Plan. He can see it, but he can’t see his way around, over, or under it. We all carry it on our backs and dump it in each other’s areas. If I do it less than some of the others, it’s only because I am lucky enough to have resources they don’t.
Like, I can read the label. Literally.
And that’s my class analysis from the armpit of Lake Street today. Off to work to shift more heavy stuff. The truth is, if it doesn’t break me (go slow, Fresca!), it genuinely does keep me stronger. I don’t like to exercise. If I’d been sitting at my laptop editing /writing all these years, I’d be a total pudding.
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