The Weight of Negative Responses

by Mike Shivar

I was just getting off of work, only spending four hours at Publix that day. I was on my way to school to finish my paper due the next day when I heard a certain manager call out to me “ I need to see you before I leave.” I wasn’t quite sure of the nature of this meeting, so I was only thinking of what it could be. “Finally!” I presumed, “I’m getting a raise!” I was busy counting figures in my head and wondering how it would effect my paycheck while I waited. Maybe it would go to the car, making it easier to pay off the debt on it, or possibly the insurance, or maybe even make it easier to go out and have fun whenever Publix gave me some time to do so. Yet I also thought about renouncing it and just asking for the store to work with my hours a little better than they had been. I had already stressed to the management that I could only work a maximum of twenty-five hours (which I did not want to have been stressed much) because of school and homework, yet received thirty or more hours per week anyway, for which I was responsible. I finally began to wonder if Publix was beginning to work with me. It was not to be. I did not hear a report on how I kept myself busy during slow times, always looking for something to do. I did not hear about how I always seemed to take on the tough jobs that nobody wanted to do, or how I was known for doing a good job on the tasks that the coordinator would send me on. Instead, I hear something that insulted my work ethic. “Says here you’ve been late a few times” he said. “We can’t be having that.” I was not totally surprised, but I was a little shocked. So I waited for him to finish his speech, just hoping he would at least mention the areas where I had done well in. My ears were itching to here some praise. I wanted to hear how highly he thought of me for pushing carts for three hours out in the cold rain, or how much of an example I had set because I hadn’t missed a day (though I had been sick every other week since I was hired). I wanted to hear about how I worked in a fuming bathroom without proper ventilation or an unprovided mask for an hour to unclog a urinal, though I was unsuccessful. I waited, and I waited, but still he said nothing pertaining to what was done well. I wasn’t surprised; I had never been praised for anything since I started working there. I was expected to be just the average plebian, so my accomplishments were viewed as average. The managerial position did not care if I had volunteered to do the nastier work, such as walking into a flooded bathroom from an overflowing urinal, and getting the filthy water on my clothes and body incidentally. The managerial position was not concerned that I was left in the rain for three hours in a flooded parking lot, ruining the only pair of good everyday shoes that I had. They cared only for the prestige of their position, the children of the company, and the longevity of the whole. The front service personnel scurry around, doing whatever they see fit to do. Some work, and work very hard, and then some slack, and let the other workers pick up their share. Very often, I have found that these hard working people are overlooked when the goodies are passed out, because working leaves little time to do any brownnosing. The scum, the lazy sloths, are walking around, but never walking toward where the work needs to be done. They give excuses, “ Oh, I didn’t know you wanted me to do that”, when they are not busy, but show lots of spunk and enthusiasm when a managerial type walks by. “Hi Mr. Smith! LOOK AT ME—I’M WORKING” as he rams his Pinocchio up the ass of the supervisor, while the hard worker continues on as he had been, unnoticed and unappreciated. “But I heard they treated there associates with dignity…” you might say. I was led into believing this when I was first hired. I soon found out that respect had to be earned by the average joe, while Publix kids can get away with murder if they wanted to. I have witnessed on numerous occasions where a particular PK has left customers in his line unattended because he was “coloring a picture”. I have seen him leave his job while on the clock to try to get his keys out of his locked truck and having spent more than an hour doing so. I have viewed him on more than one occasion touching co-workers in ways that would not be considered conducive to a proper working environment. Do I do any of this? No, because as soon as I did I knew I would be fired. Yet I have to ignore the acts of the children of these model workers as they happen in front of me. I am subjected to this detrimental favoritism consistently, and I am not surprised that my track record at Publix is less than exemplary. I, as most people, do not react favorably to favoritism. Reward us by our deeds, not by our names, and judge us fairly. So, I come in a few minutes late. The latest I had been was six minutes. I have take away five minutes of bagging or five minutes of carts, or five minutes of odd jobs. Did I mention Publix's refusal to work within my availability? I can guarantee I can find those five or six minutes for the store there, and I am not the only one with problems involving maximum hours. Did I mention the times that I would come in a few minutes early, sometimes missing lunch? You were grateful then… Did I mention the breaks I missed because they were changed on the schedule? Did I mention how I was upset about it? I did not mention how I upset that I was, because I knew you needed help, and I am not the type of person to let someone down when I have the means to help. Seems I should have not worried about it; my help went unappreciated. And now I find myself angry and bitter towards my job, something that has not happened in my work history. I have not complained that I have not had one Friday or Saturday off, that I was too sick to work a day, or that I was given some of the least favorite jobs. Yet I do find myself upset with the apathy of this hierarchy, that doesn’t care about the welfare of the hard-working employee. I don’t expect a handout; I was just hoping to be involved in a place where I could work and be appreciated for what I do. This has been my desire since I have been working at Publix, and is my desire for wherever I work afterwards. Back to Hall of Art 1