Work Food Aesthetics

Work Food Aesthetics ✨

(It's tap from the emergency eyewash station)

That one staring at its mama 🥹

(Source)

A friend dm'd me with this and I just had to put it on here 💛

Feeding cats by remote control 😹😹😹❤️

ⲯ﹍︿﹍︿﹍נσυяηєу нσмє﹍ⲯ﹍ⲯ﹍︿﹍

In Regards to Misanthropy

I know that humanity has had a history full of blemishes, and they never scar over. They are still an open wound steadily dripping through time and could possibly continue until we address some major issues, mostly regarding how we treat the world around us as a whole. Thoughts and beliefs that have been passed down from generation to generation without asking ourselves the question 'why?'. The thing is though that humanity is amazing and complex and so, so unexpected because humans can choose to do anything with their limited time on this earth and sometimes humans choose to do beautiful things, not because of those thoughts and beliefs that's shaped them, but in spite of it.

A Report! From Inside The Walls of Mallmart

"It smells like dark matter!" A voice exclaims from the next aisle over. A young voice, that brings me back to when I was that young. "Nuh uh! Dark matter can't have a smell, stupid!" 

"Can too!" The two kids trail behind their mother, deeply engaged in this conversation. I turn back to the tooth brushes I have been stocking on shelves for the last 10 minutes. Because this is a story about a Mallmart Associate.

I'd like to say I hold the same fire that I had before, whenever things started going wrong at Mallmart. Clearly this isn't a normal retail experience, right? It became the new normal though. The flickering lights, the viscous goo that appeared in aisles, the emergency alarms always going off felt normal now, and I had lost my fighting spirit. Luckily for me, Taylor had enough for the both of us. "I got the contact information of the man the overseer was talking to last Saturday," she explained to me, seeming in high spirits for someone who had only weeks ago been distraught over their understanding of reality being broken. It's something I don't understand, and yet still admire.

"I know it's a bit of a stretch, but it's the only lead I got and something about their conversation seemed…off." She does not go on to explain why it felt off. She's looking at me expectantly. "Oh! Hey there was a trail of translucent goo in hba, I got a photo of it for you!" Taylor gazes into my dim phone screen, and nods. "At least it wasn't the- black ink stuff? Whatever that was."

There's an awkward silence between us, and it occurs to me that we don't talk about much outside of Hellmart, as Taylor has wittily called it.

"You know, I've been thinking lately. Does death even exist? Like, maybe it's just a movement of consciousness,"

"Oh, so like quantum immortality?" I know I peaked her interest, when she looks at me like that.

"Yes, exactly that. Like what I'm saying is, what if our consciousness exists outside of the boundaries of things like time and space? What if we don't end with these bodies we wield?" She seems to ponder this for a second, and says, "Well, that's unsettlingly cryptic, as usual. I was hoping we'd get to talk about parallel universes, but I might have to sit back and think on how I want to answer that for a moment…"

"Actually, speaking of that I wonder if there's a version of us that exists out there that doesn't work at this…wonderful store," I finish, lamely. Taylor cuts into me with her eyes. "I hope whatever version of us that is, that we still feel how we do about each other." It's vulnerable, and honest, and it burns to hear. I don't ask what she means because I'm too afraid to push things. "I hope so too, Taylor."

Mallmart still had tricks up its sleeves, however. The home department encompassed so many products that if you didn't know where an item went, it was safe to say that it probably belonged in our home department. One such product was our mirrors, the full length type that is cheaply made in mass. The type that you hang on doors to get a full body view of yourself.

 I cut into the box, running the blade along its taped seams and opening it with haste. The smell-

God the smell. It was like infected flesh mixed with…decay? I don't know what was happening in those warehouses, but everyday mirrors should not smell so ungodly. Was it the box? Had something spilled on it? And how many boxes in the back rooms had this disgusting quality to it? And yet, there seemed to be no stains indicating such. The box sat in pristine condition. I pulled those mirrors out of the box and struggled with them, trying to keep them stable in my grasp.

Because not only were they disgusting smelling, but they were bendable. They sagged in my grip, leaving me completely dumbfounded by how weightless and malleable they were. So when I was fighting to put the remaining ones in topstock, I was taken by surprise when I saw an odd, stilted movement out of the corner of my eye. There at the back of an aisle was myself, walking backwards down the aisle in an odd jilted way that left the hair standing on the back of my neck. Her skin was pale, her mouth wide and face so recognizably me. 'My phone, I have to get a picture of this for my blog!' I fumbled with my pockets, knowing Taylor would want me to get a photo of this. That my friends would want a photo of this. Hell, I wanted a photo of it just to appease the part of me saying none of this could be real. In my haste a mirror fell from topstock and reached out in reflex, going to take a step down from the cart. Gravity shifted as I fell from the ladder of my cart, landing straight down onto my ankle in a gut churning crunch.

Workers Compensation, with Madame Macabre!

Here at Mallmart, we take our employees' health very seriously. If an employee is injured on the job, they have 12 hours to complete a form and send it in to management to be reviewed. Failure to complete the form in the allotted time means relinquishing your worker compensation benefits. Mallmart also encourages you to spend 5 minutes doing Mallmart approved stretches in front of the surveillance cameras, before you start your shift. This also comes in handy for management when checking the surveillance. Remember, if you have not completed your stretches before shift, this means relinquishing worker compensation benefits! 

I let out a guttural shout of pain, immediately dropping to a crouch in order to grab my ankle as it throbbed and pulsed against my grasp. Is it broken? My breath staggered as I felt around it. No, no… it was not broken, just terribly sore. Through my tears I saw a figure standing over me, and I took off my glasses to wipe away the moisture to see,

"Ma'am, do you have the keys to the case with the press on nails?"  The lady was stout and blonde, and what I had witnessed just moments ago was long gone, leaving only the mundane horrors of retail in its wake. "I don't have all day!"

"Oh … okay, one moment…"

When I limped back to the break room, Aiden and Taylor were talking. "No really, I can make smoke! Watch!" With that, he breathes in, cheeks puffed out. His tongue clicks in his mouth, and his jaw clicks. Taylor leans in intently, and then… He blows smoke out of his lips. "Oh! I wonder if this is related to air pressure," Taylor muses, head deep in wonder as I take a seat next to them. "Yeah, it must be a great trick to show at parties," I mumble, a bit dismissively. "Dude, I really should. I mean, I can also play the guitar. Only Wonderwall though." 

"Only Wonderwall…" I repeat back, whatever I was going to say was interrupted however. Aiden's phone chimes, and he reaches into his pocket, and checks his phone. "Oh, I guess we don't have to worry about Kyle spitting in our food at Whataburger… because the dude is missing, and the police are looking for him," Aiden mutters, stuffing the phone in his pocket. I'm a bit surprised by his nonchalant attitude. 

"Wait, what? Who's Kyle?"

"Oh, he's a friend of mine, dude was awesome, he wasn't afraid of anything. He'd throw a strawberry milkshake on the grill before he made your burger if he was mad at you-" Aiden laughed.

I shuddered, and before thinking I said, "That's exactly what I fear whenever I order food,"

"Well you won't have to worry about that anymore," the conversation fell dead silent. "Do you think he may have left on his own? Hopefully he's okay…" 

"Nah, that ain't Kyle. He would've told someone. He would've told me..." He was troubled by this, and it became clear that he was more convincing himself of something. Something that he never finished the thought of, rather than convincing us. I couldn't say anything, how could you? So in that moment, I silently watched Aiden, wishing I could convey that I wished him well. 

"Dear, can you tell me where the Pantene shampoo is?" I look over at the lady who is speaking to me. She sits in a mobility scooter, her hair tied back into a neat bun, and her eyes alight behind her vintage cateye glasses. "That would be aisle 27 of our cosmetics section." I smiled, giving my best customer service voice. "And do you carry Ivory bar soap? I've been looking everywhere but I can't find any bar soap!"

"Oh, that would be on aisle 16, on the bottom shelf-"

"Can you show me? Please? Like walk me over to exactly where it is." She looks at me, pleadingly. This is the part where I should give you the 411 on Mallmart etiquette, and politely refuse the old woman.  I wasn't supposed to walk people to items or help them as they shopped. You would think this would count as the job description, but the rules were specific on what counted  as job description, and what counted as wasting company time  Mallmart strives for efficiency. Helping a customer to that extent was considered inefficient. "Okay, right down here." And then I was breaking the rules, walking down aisle 27 to show her where the shampoo was. "Oh, here it is! But where is the recovery shampoo? I'm certain it's called recovery. They must not have it." I glance over at her puzzled frown, and begin raking over the shelves with my eyes, looking for anything that said 'recovery'. "Could this be it, mrs?" She squints to read the label while I anxiously glance around, worried I will get caught by management. The amount of people I've seen get pulled away to be spoken to over exactly this was unnerving. "Why yes, it is! Now the ivory soap, please!" I knew she wanted me to walk her over to it, and yet… Well, no one seemed to be around to stop me. "Right this way, Mrs." 

The lights overhead buzzed as I stepped into aisle 16, looking at the bottom shelves. "Our bar soap is on the bottom shelf here, however…I believe the space where the ivory soap, is empty,"

"Oh no!" She sounded heartbroken at this, as she stared at me. "Can you check the back? Please? It's for my mother, she only gets ivory soap." Stock workers are not supposed to take from the back, because they are not a picked item for shelves. "Let me check if it's in stock, first." I say, getting out my work phone. The truth is, I knew it was in stock, but I needed time to think of a way to let her down easy. Unfortunately for me, no such idea came to my mind. "It looks like it's in stock, so if you wait here one moment, I will attempt to find it. I am very sorry for the wait." And stiltedly I walked. I walked out of the health and beauty department, through the home department, and then into the backrooms. Eyes were always watching. So, nervously, I went to the back aisle in the hba back rooms looking over the products. I was going to pick an item and mark it as picked despite it not being ready, which of course, went against Mallmart's core values.

You're probably wondering why I'm going to all this trouble for a stranger. You're probably thinking, of all times for me to go against company rules, this was strange. She reminded me of someone, back from before I ever moved to Okaloosa County. Someone that, if she was still alive, I'd want the same respect granted to her.

I emerged from back rooms victorious, limping and bruised, and having survived the treacherous back rooms with their moving shelves and sweating floors. And by the time I had gotten back to hba, I was not only out of breath, but it was nearly time to clock out. "I am sorry for the wait, is this the product?" I'm trying not to show how badly my ankle still hurts, as I fidget slightly in place. "That's it! Yes! Yes!" She's clapping. "Oh you have been an absolute godsend, darling! You have been perfect!" She sets the product in the basket, her grin wide. I feel taken aback, but before I have time to regain composure, she surprises me again. Shakily, she moves to stand, bracing herself on the machine as she steps out. She outstretches her arms, and closes the space between us. "Mrs, what-"

You aren't supposed to hug with customers. It's…against the company rules. I'm not supposed to allow this. "Thank you so much," she whispers into my ear, before she lets me go, wobbling back over to her seat, and then leaving me alone in the aisle, sniffling. No one has ever called me perfect before. I've never been a help to anyone. She was so happy though. I had gone and did the one thing I was sure would get me the ire of management, and now I was uncertain why I ever let myself get consumed by them so thoroughly. I'd forgotten what matters most; people.

I cried for the second time that day.