Author Archives: cat9984

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It All Started with Milk and Rennet

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When I started writing this blog, my son recommended that I shoot for a Scott Adams-level of snark (which may explain the noticeable male skew of the readership). However, today I want to try to emulate Richard Armour, my first (and possibly still) favorite humorist. He did his writing in the 1960’s and 1970’s, pre-irony and pre-snark, but it is still very clever. If there are any fans reading this, you may notice the title bears some resemblance to the titles of many of his books (It All Started with Stones and Clubs, It All Started with Hippocrates, It All Started with Eve, etc.)

Way back in time, actually before time if you use recorded history, some guy in a hot climate (we’ll call him Joe) was looking for a way to transport his milk (actually it probably came from a goat or a sheep).  Looking around, Joe realized that the thing he carried his water in would probably work for milk too. That thing was the stomach of an early cow relative. Fortunately, he had several loose ruminant organs lying around, being the Tupperware of their day. So he picked up a cow stomach, poured in the milk and went on his way to visit his hunting buddy, Eddie.

Having been quite a hike to Eddie’s over rough ground, the milk had spent a while sloshing around in the stomach. When Joe got to Eddie’s, he offered to share the milk. Imagine his surprise when he tried to pour it out and some mushy, whitish curds came out of the stomach instead. Joe looked at the mess and told Eddie to try it. Eddie, being a suspicious sort, told Joe to try it himself. Joe took a little and put it into his mouth. It tasted good! Joe had just discovered cheese.

Cheese was really the only way to keep milk in a hot climate. So why did the cow’s stomach allow the early civilizations to enjoy cheese instead of food poisoning? The magic ingredient of rennet. Rennet is a bunch of enzymes produced in any mammalian stomach (yes, we could use your stomach to make cheese, but you would probably rather keep it where it is). The enzymes cause the milk to separate into curds and whey. The curds are the cheese, the whey is what made Joe’s first cheese so mushy.

Concurrently, an ancient housewife was trying to figure out what to do with the milk that had gone bad in the sun and curdled. The saber-tooth tiger kitten walked away from it. She tried feeding it to her teen-age son, thinking that he would eat anything, but he refused. Finally she decided to add salt. Well, it covered the taste of the curdling. But it was just nasty to drink. So she pressed it between two rocks and, voila!, she discovered cheese. (I do not know why this would make it more palatable except it may have added the taste of the rock.)

The early cheese was a success nutrition-wise (or in contemporary thinking, it beat starving). But it was REALLY salty to last in the hot sun, and it was sour due to the curdling. Fortunately for us, cheese-making was also done in Europe, where it was much cooler. So they used less salt. Less salt meant more microbes and molds (yummy). If you don’t worry about moldy cheese, you can let it age (it gets better and better, doesn’t it?) As time progressed, the mold was cut off some cheeses (e.g., cheddar) and incorporated into others (e.g., bleu). There’s a British-French joke there somewhere, but I can’t find it.

Cheese making was pretty much a universal art (except in the orient – apparently they did not see the sense in eating salty, curdled, moldy milk). Without good transportation, most cheese-making remained local until recently (apparently cow stomachs have their limits when it comes to transporting cheese). Britain claims to have over 700 distinct varieties, France and Italy each claim over 400.

Fast-forward a few thousand years. Switzerland opened the first cheese factory in 1815 (making Swiss cheese?) But the Americans managed to turn it into an assembly-line process in 1851. A sweat-shop for cheese just sounds disgusting.

Moving forward, the scientists figured out how to mass-produce rennet in the 1860s and cows everywhere breathed a sigh of relief. By the turn of the century, those hard-working scientists had created pure microbial cultures which led to more standardized cheese – good for the manufacturer’s bottom line, not so good for the discerning diner.

And guess what standardized cheese led to? Processed cheese!! (aka process cheese, cheese slice, prepared cheese, cheese singles, and cheese food). Processed cheese is a food product made from “normal” cheese, emulsifiers (for smoothness in melting), extra salt (it’s back), food colorings, and flavors. They might also throw in some other unfermented dairy ingredients (I guess the dairy equivalent of animal by-product) or whey. I checked today, and cheese culture was the ninth ingredient in one brand of cheese slices.

Today more processed cheese is sold than “real” cheese. It’s lasts longer, doesn’t separate when melted, and is more uniform in look and taste. Joe and the housewife had no idea what they started.

*Information in this post is loosely based on an article in Wikipedia. So please don’t take any of it as fact.

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You Call THAT Food?

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I know that I am getting old when I am surprised by some of what is available at the store:

Chicken and Waffle-flavored potato chips – people are really upset because they really taste like syrup. When did chicken and waffles become condiments rather than main dishes?

Spray cooking oil that contains flour – are there really that many people out there baking who don’t have enough spare flour on hand to coat the pan?

Pancake batter in a spray can – I guess it goes along with the pre-cooked bacon for those mornings you want a home-cooked breakfast but only have 15 minutes to get out the door.

Instant potatoes in a carton – all you do is add water, shake the carton, and pour the potatoes into the pan. Is that really an improvement over putting the flakes and water into a pan and cooking them? Does your dishwasher care that it has one fewer spoon in it?

Pre-made cheesecake filling – it says just pour it in a crust and you’re done. I’ve never tasted it, but I’m told it tastes fake. What a surprise for something that has virtually no natural ingredients in it.

Pre-cubed and cracker-cut cheese – unless you’re having a major party, it is going to be fresher (and cheaper) if you cut it yourself – but it won’t be as “cute” (just the word I look for in food)

Velveeta has become an industry – At one point in time, it’s claim to fame was that it melted smoother than cheddar. Apparently it didn’t melt fast enough, because they introduced Velveeta shreds. Then pre-melted Velveeta in foil that you just squeeze onto the food. All this for a product that is trying to convince us that it’s “real” cheese.

Imitation process cheese – process cheese is the step-child of cheese which lasts longer and melts more easily – imitation takes it one more step and removes the cheese entirely – really

No-fat, lactose free milk – it begs the question – once you’ve taken out the fat and the lactose is it still milk? Would any self-respecting cow still feed it to her child? There are all sorts of alternatives that are low-fat and lactose-free: soy, almond, coconut. Why not go for something with flavor and that you can’t see though if you hold it up to the light?

Phyllo dough has become filo dough – apparently we’re too dumbed-down to recognize it unless it’s spelled phonetically. Some people stick with “puff pastry”.

Neopolitan oreos – I thought it was wrong when they made mint oreos, but this is too far – there is no need for three types of filling in a cookie that most people could eat in two bites (and according to the commercials, only part of us take off the top to look at the creme anyway). Put it back where it belongs – in ice cream.

Girl-scout cookie flavored coffee creamer (with no cream) – I guess that coffee has gone from being something people wanted to drink because they like the taste to something that needs to be covered in sweetness so we can gag it down for the energy.

Pre-made iced tea – no not the stuff Lipton has been putting out since they figured out preservatives. Now you can get gallons of the stuff. I suppose it’s more important to save five minutes (and avoid digging out the pitcher) than to make than to flavor it to the tastes of the guests.

All of this ranting comes to you courtesy of the two people in one week who asked me to point out the “real” cheddar cheese. I thought they meant non-processed cheese product. No, they didn’t want sharp cheddar, they wanted real cheddar, the mild kind. It’s a good thing they weren’t around a while back, before “real” cheddar was invented.

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A Lesson in Economics

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I have been following the progress of the workers at McDonald’s trying to get the company to agree to pay a living wage. The company responded by posting a sample budget online showing how they could live on the wages they are currently getting paid. I thought the best part was the line item showing income from a second job. The budget is no longer available online.

I have no idea whether McDonald’s could afford to pay their employees more and still make a profit. However, the whole conversation made me think about life at Ralph’s (of course). The hourly pay scale tops out at $10/hour, with a couple of positions going to $11. The team leaders start at $10.50. Since it is a family-owned business, I can’t find out how much money the company makes.

So I’m trying fantasy economics (like fantasy sports, but less fun). Because I really hate math and accounting, I am not dealing with administrative and overhead costs, taxes, sales v. profit, or any of the other things that would actually make this a useful analysis. I am attempting humor after all, and it’s hard enough when you’re dealing with numbers.

The cheese I stock brings in an average of $6,000 – $8,000/day (insert joke about local bowel habits here). During the holidays and other busy times, it can earn twice that. I am the only employee in that section of the store. In the interests of fairness (probably the only time I will worry about it), I am going to use $7,000 as my basis. That equals $49,000/week or $2,520,000/year.

I wanted to have some type of comparison for the numbers, so I decided to look up some things that I could buy for $7,000.

I could get 3 pairs of Christian Louboutin Python pumps at Bergdorf Goodman ($1759 each). Unfortunately, I couldn’t wear them to work and I’m sure my friends wouldn’t know enough to be impressed.

Instead, I could get 3 Armina Aquamarine beaded necklaces ($1745 each). I really wish there was a Bergdorf’s around here. If I’ve calculated correctly, it would only take me 10 weeks to get the pumps and the necklace.

I could get 5 3.1 Phillip Lim Goat Fur satchel bags pink and black ($1395 each). Goats in New York must be different than the goats out here. Our goats come with hair not fur.

How about 12 Rebecca Taylor leather/ponte paneled dresses ($550 each)? I think it’s a regional thing. Even when I worked as a consultant, I would not have worn a $550 leather dress to work.

Every fashionable woman has heard of Hermes scarves. How about 6 cashmere and silk shawls ($1125 each). I would probably get toner on it the first time I wore it. You never hear about getting them cleaned.

If I went to Macy’s, I could get a nice 1 ct. t.w. diamond engagement ring. At $6900, it pushes the limits of the $7000, but it does come with a 15% discount. Of course, I’d have to figure out what to do with the old one (and explain to my husband why I needed to buy one for myself).

On a more humble note, I could get 700 dinners (mostacolli, lasagna, or chicken) at my local pizza place ($9.99 each). I might want to order a few less and get a few 2-liter bottles of Pepsi at $2.25 each. Besides I don’t know 700 people. And when my daughter eventually gets married, I imagine she probably will want something different for dinner.

So, I’m thinking that maybe raising my ceiling to $11/hour might be a financial possibility. Or more realistically, I should probably start buying lottery tickets.

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The Peasants are Rioting in the Streets

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It is doubtful that Marie Antoinette ever said, “Let them eat cake.” For one thing, by the time things were quiet enough to write things down, everyone who would have been present had been separated from his/her head and was unable to verify the quote. It’s too bad they didn’t have Facebook (the Queen sounds like the type who would have loved tagging pictures). It appears that things stay on there forever.

The exchange kept coming to mind last week at work. You may recall me talking about a woman who was told that she couldn’t take a vacation because they are too short-staffed in the deli. She has chosen to retire at the beginning of December. She’s decided that if they are that short-staffed, once winter arrives she’ll be stuck by herself on the days when everyone else is either sick or staying home because of the snow . I’m guessing that was not the company’s goal when they denied the vacation.

I learned that a couple of Saturdays ago, they were short-staffed (surprise!!), There were only three people on the counter, scheduled in such a way that one person would be alone at the end of her shift. It was so busy, that they weren’t able to take their breaks. When they called management to say they needed coverage for lunch, management told them to stay on the counter. The best part was that the team leader left before noon because she had to go to a birthday party. (They probably ate cake.)

The union steward reprimanded the team leader and manager. I’m sure the employees felt much better knowing that management is now aware that employees should be allowed to go to lunch. Apparently, Ralph’s does not know that the Department of Labor also has an issue with making people work for 8 hours without a break. (I think France had indentured servants prior to the Revolution, so we’re still on track).

Moving on to Tuesday, one of the male stockers came in and said he needed the rest of the week off because his grandmother was having surgery (that’s more time than he would have gotten if she died). The team leader said he would have to tell the manager, apparently thinking this would dissuade him from leaving. The manager looked at him in disbelief and let him go. I guess the way to get time off is just to say you are going.

He decided that he could be back on Friday.  The team leader switched the other stocker’s day off from Wednesday to Friday to cover. When the first stocker came back, he was angry because he didn’t have any help on his busiest day. Guess he didn’t get the message about being short-staffed. He lost all sympathy when we discovered that the surgery was for a knee infection, not something life-threatening. The team leader lost all sympathy when she welcomed him back like a returning hero.

One of the people who needs to keep filling the staffing holes has a job similar to mine, except in the “fine” cheese (you can pronounce all the ingredients, but not the names of the cheeses). The team leader kept asking for “favors”. Finally the woman ignored one of the “requests”. The team leader told her she had to see the manager NOW. I guess it’s like being sent to the principal’s office.

Finally, I was sick on Thursday (one point on my record, no pay). Of course, no one could cover. On Friday, the manager comes by and says that the vice-president is expected and I need to fill in the holes before I do anything else. I’m not sure what he meant – the whole section was holes. Not that it matters. In the (almost) two years I’ve been there, she has never even looked in my direction on one of her tours. And she didn’t look this time either.

I really think all we need is a leader and something to tear down.

 

 

 

 

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“Earned” Vacation

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So far, it has taken me three months to get permission to be gone five days. In May, I left a note for the previous team leader that I wanted to go on vacation at the end of August. The next day, she tells me she’s seen the note and it looks OK to her but she needs to double-check the vacation schedule. I assume everything’s fine (yes I can still be that naive). She goes on a medical leave for stress, comes back for a couple of weeks and quits. Just prior to her last day (first week in July), she tells me that because the vacation ends two days before Labor Day, I need to have her boss authorize it. He says it’s fine and takes the request (end of the process, right?).

I ran into my (new) team leader in the ladies’ room yesterday. She told me that we needed to talk about my vacation. We work a few hundred yards apart – she waits until now to talk to me? I realize that it’s called a rest room, but that’s just a polite term for what it really is. Once you’re out of high school, who wants to spend more time in there than you have to?

She starts out by telling me that it hasn’t been approved yet. She said she had to approve it (but there wouldn’t be a problem with that), and then her boss would have the option to reverse that approval. I told her that I had already talked to her boss. She said that didn’t matter, SHE had to approve it and would look into it that afternoon. So apparently she signs off, tells him, he thinks about it and says, “Wow, this looks kinda familiar, did I say yes or no when Cat asked?”

I have not taken a vacation in several years. The last time, all I had to do was tell the boss when I wanted to go, when I wanted to come back, and wait for them to say yes or no. At most places, it was just a formality. Who would have thought it would be tougher to give time off to someone who moves boxes and merchandise from place to place than to someone who is responsible for making sure a new client relationship starts out on the right foot? I guess I really am vital to the organization (please do not spit whatever you are drinking at the screen).

I complained about this to a work-friend (sometimes they’re better than real-world friends since you don’t have to spend 10 minutes setting the situation). She says to keep on top of it. One of the other women in the deli has been told that she cannot take a vacation between now and the end of the year because they are under-staffed. They seem to be positive that they will not be adequately staffed at any point during the next four months. (December doesn’t count in retail – no one goes anywhere.) Is it her fault that it’s such a miserable place to work that they can’t keep employees?

I guess I’m probably not being fair. We’ve had people out this summer for a broken rib, heart problems, and shoulder surgery. How can we be sure that no one is going to suffer some horrible accident in the near future and mess up our staffing again? After all, one woman is pregnant, and she’s probably going to want time off too.

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My Family is Not THIS Dysfunctional

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I saw Ralph (as in Ralph’s Mega-Mart) on TV the other night. They were interviewing him about a new store opening and asked him about his formula for success. He said that one of the keys to his success is that all of his employees are treated like family. I wonder what type of family he grew up in.

The father of one of my co-workers recently died. When my Team Leader heard the news, her response was “But I need her here on Saturday!!” I’m sure that if someone had explained the situation to the poor man, he would have planned things a little better. Of course, this is the same Team Leader who resigned a few weeks later because the stress was making her sick. It appears that employee support is not considered a family value.

Recently the company introduced a new program. It is called Personal Responsibility for Your Behavior (or something close to that – the real name faded once I realized that the message might be new to a 10-year-old). We work in a very “us vs them” environment. If we are more than a minute late arriving, punching in from break or punching in from lunch, we receive a 1/2 point on our record. If we call in sick, we receive 1 point on our record. If we no call/no show, we receive 4 points on our record. If we behave inappropriately or unsafely we receive points on a different record. If either record reaches 12 points in a year, we are subject to termination (kind of death by boredom by that point).

The new policy said that it is our responsibility to control the number of points we accrue. If we went four months with no points, we would get a face-to-face meeting with our manager (!!) so that person could tell us what a good employee we have been. So, if you’re bad, you get points; if you’re good, you get to talk to your manager. And you are responsible for which one happens!!!

As part of a “family” we need to make sure that everyone is safe. So we have quarterly safety updates and videos and readings. The bottom line is – if you get hurt, it’s your own fault. One new employee hurt his back moving a pallet, then got hurt lifting some boxes, then ran a pallet jack over his foot. He was terminated for being a “safety risk”. Of course, no one explained to him why he kept getting hurt –  he had sat through the 9 hours (no joke) of video training before they let him out on the floor. If management had been paying attention at all, they would have told him that taking mind-altering substances at work will lead to lapses in judgment that could affect your health (and safety).

They don’t really have anything that counts as “light” duty. If you are not able to do your job fully, you have the option of toughing it out (and having your co-workers complain that you are not pulling your weight), taking time off (without pay), or becoming a greeter. Greeters are those people who say hello and good-bye as you enter and leave the store (in case you couldn’t figure it out yourself). Greeting is the most boring job on earth (or at least at Ralph’s). They can’t tell you ahead of time when you will be working – as far as I can tell you either take the place of an ill greeter, a vacationing greeter, or a greeter who is injured themselves and has to stay home.

Ralph’s prides itself on hiring people at $0.25 over minimum wage (that’s $10/week closer to the bottom of the poverty line if you work full-time). However, if you are a cashier or service worker, you lose that extra money. Apparently dealing directly with customers all day is not considered as difficult as putting bags of cheese on a hook. Of course, no one is hired full-time so all of this is relative anyway. I wonder what kind of allowance Ralph’s kids get?

If you have the audacity to leave and then want to come back (regardless of how long you have been gone), you have to re-join the family. You have to complete the drug screening (probably a good idea since you know what you’re coming back to), the hours of video training and the on-the-floor training. The best part is that even if you have only been gone a few weeks, your pay drops back to the starting salary and you have no seniority toward vacation, 401(k) match or anything else. You have to be really desperate to return to our family.

Our equivalent to “Wait til your father gets home” is the senior management visit. Whenever someone important is supposed to come, we have to clean, make sure everything is tidy, and stock everything (you would think that would be the norm, not a special occurrence). The higher up the chain of command the visitor, the more stressed out the store director becomes, and the more unpleasant it is for everyone. Does anyone really think that the VIPs don’t know what’s going on? Maybe they are as clueless as some parents.

Thinking about it, maybe Ralph read too many Victorian novels about families. There seem to be a lot of stories with rich families who take in poor relations and seem to be helping them while ensuring that none of the wealth actually gets to the relations.

At any rate, my second ‘family’ is not coming to my house for Thanksgiving.

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Random Thoughts

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I drive country roads to work – why do I only run into slow drivers on the straight parts and never on the parts that resemble a NASCAR track?

Why do they name it head cheese when that’s the only disgusting part of the animal that is not in it?

Why do I only see predators (animal, not human) when they have some poor animal in their mouth/talons?

Should I be insulted that when I was pulled over for driving erratically, the cop assumed it was for a medical emergency not for being under the influence?

Why am I the only one on the sales floor when someone breaks a bottle of (really cheap) strawberry wine or a gallon of milk or a jar of horseradish? They really are the only things in the store that make me really gag. (Aside from human emissions of various sorts.)

Why do I attract all of the really strange people? Do I really look like I know what to substitute for spicy paprika (or know what spicy paprika is)? How about all the stores that carry the products that we don’t? The guy who feels he needs to tell me his life story before asking for money?

If my mother knows that I am liberal in almost everything, why does she insist on telling me everything she has “learned” on Fox News?

Does my car have a sign that says pull out in front me, there’s only a quarter mile of empty space behind me?  Or maybe, it’s icy so test my reflexes by cutting in front of me and slamming on your brakes?

Why do people insist on telling the same awful jokes over and over? (“Where’s the cheese? Where’s the cheese? Oh here it is.” as he enters the aisle.)

Why do I only have the nerve to complain online or at home when those are never the people who need to hear it?

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Do You Ever Get Tired of Being Nice?

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(this post may not be particularly relevant to the chronically snarky)

I am generally considered to be a very nice person. Even the wildlife in our backyard are not afraid of me. The deer and even the groundhogs only look to make sure it’s not a stranger. A raccoon (non-rabid) tried to intimidate me on my own porch. Nevertheless, there are times when I want to say “Were you born that way or did you have to study to get that attitude/behavior?”

For example, I have a co-worker in cheese who started a few weeks ago. When I met her, she was extremely nice and outgoing. Apparently I made a mistake when I told her that the first thing that we had to do in the mornings was to unload the pallets and start stocking. She was arranging the shelves (for two hours).  Apparently she felt that doing the real manual labor was meant for someone else.  She barely spoke to me the rest of the day except to tell me that I was defensive (her radar was glitchy – I was totally ticked off). It generally got worse from there, by the middle of the next Saturday, she was not talking to me at all. When they asked if I would be willing to give up mid-week day off for Saturdays (really – it was a sincere question), it took all my will-power to not do a happy-dance in front of her.

I guess there has not yet been enough time to heal this wound. Last Friday as I was working. I heard someone say “There’s a mess on the floor.” I turned around and there she was – pointing at a trail of coffee on the floor. No “hello”, no “how are you”. I realized that perhaps I had been wrong in being upset that she wouldn’t talk to me – silence was much better than being treated like her servant.

Speaking of being treated like a servant, it appears that there has been a severe decline in mothers’ teaching their children to pick up for themselves. The first thing I have to do every morning is pick up all the stuff people have left behind the previous day. I kinda get the things from the other fresh food departments – I’m generally the last one they go through and they put the stuff they got cold somewhere to keep it cold (being way too much trouble to go back the few hundred feet to return it). What I don’t get is people who leave their canned chili in the coolers. (Are you that embarrassed to tell the cashier that you changed your mind?) But the ones that are truly annoying are the ones who leave their trash for me. (You really couldn’t see that we have trash cans every few aisles for your empty Starbucks cup?) An all-time low was the person who left chewed gum on a shelf, although the person who left cherry pits was a close second. Probably the same person who used the sanitizing wipe at the door so they wouldn’t get germs from the cart.

Other times, I would really like to be someone’s mother. A woman with two children came through. While she was shopping, her kids were playing with (it seemed) everything in the aisle. Finally I asked them to stop because they were making the cheese warm. (Why would you hug a hunk of cheese tightly to your chest in the first place?) The mother turns around and says “Did you hear what she said?” I guess I should be grateful she didn’t yell at me for upsetting her kids.

There’s nothing like the parent whose child is screaming at the top of their lungs for no apparent reason. Some parents are embarrassed and try to calm the child down. Some try to ignore the child and hope that they will get tired (apparently not realizing that the rest of us are already tired enough of it to tell the parent that mother-in-law’s tongue will temporarily freeze the vocal cords and we would be happy to check the nursery to see if they have any). The “winner” in this group was the lady who was having a yelling contest with her toddler to see which one of them could make more noise. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to recommend an amusement park where they welcome that type of behavior.

When buying packaged cheese, why do some people go through every package to make sure they have the one farthest away from its expiration date? It’s not milk or yogurt, where a couple of days make a difference. When it is July and the front package expires November 7, is it really necessary to pull everything off the shelf to find the ones at the back that are dated November 24? Are you really planning your Thanksgiving dinner now? And when you’re done, perhaps you could return them to the hook – even put the newer ones at the front so the next person doesn’t have to waste time rooting through everything. Oh yeah, it’s my job to pick up after you. I actually had a woman complain because she had gone through every jug of juice on the next aisle and they had put the newer ones in the front – she had wasted her time going through them all.

I was hired just before Christmas 2011. The only thing I really remember about the season was the woman who came in around 2p on Christmas Eve. She wanted shredded sharp cheddar cheese. For some reason it had been a big year for shredded sharp cheddar, and we were out. The woman stood in the middle of aisle and screamed that I was ruining her Christmas. Why? Was she giving someone important a bag of cheese as a gift and waited until the last minute to make sure it was fresh? Had she suddenly found the perfect recipe that would bring the true spirit of Christmas to her family? Now she was going to have to go to another store and she didn’t have time for that! I hope she went to one of our competitors and found what she was looking for – maybe I’ll never see her again.

The past Christmas was fine, but I met that lady’s soul-mate at Easter. We sell pre-made mashed potatoes in a bag. The day before Easter a woman came in looking for them and the shelf was empty. I checked in the cooler, but had no luck. I told her we were out and apologized (company policy is that we apologize for anything at inconveniences the customer – we spend a lot of time apologizing). The woman wasn’t interested. She needed those potatoes and wanted to know how we could possibly run out of mashed potatoes the day before Easter. I told her we had a different brand in another department. She said she wanted this brand. I guess it was lucky I didn’t suggest she make them from real potatoes.

There are quite a few other “interesting” people who have passed through, but they will have to wait for another time.

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Promotion?

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It’s been a big week for me at Ralph’s Mega-Mart. Starting Sunday, I am now a full-time employee.

Since everyone starts as a part-time employee, I wasn’t sure how one moved to full-time. Since there are so few of them, I thought maybe someone had to die, and the interested person with the most seniority would move up. Or you had to be there a certain amount of time (if you survived 10 years, they figured you weren’t going anywhere and they might as well offer you benefits.)  Turns out it is not quite that difficult. The requirement is that you average 36 hours/week for 2 consecutive quarters. Of course, it is management’s responsibility to ensure that (virtually) no one averages 36 hours/week.

Luckily, I work in the deli, the graveyard of hopes and dreams in the store. It seems that no matter how many people they hire, they never have enough stay to staff the place. So I have been working full-time hours as a part-time employee for awhile.

Not so luckily, it has taken a couple of tries to get the status change. They really don’t like full-time employees because of the benefit costs (heaven knows the hourly rate isn’t going to to break them). I could have switched in January except I was sick for a week in October (they also really hate it when their employees get sick or injured – destroys productivity). Because we don’t get sick-time (surprise!), it was considered an unpaid leave. A week with no hours messes with the average of a part-time employee (guessing it’s all part of the low pay/high expectations charm of the big-box culture). So I had to start over again in January.

By July 1, I had the numbers. However, you have to ask to be made full-time. And apparently you have to ask right away.  I asked the Admin Asst (of course we don’t have anyone who does HR) on the 9th and was told that I had to talk to management immediately. I only knew I had to ask because one of the other employees had told me during my first month of the job. (At the time I thought she was crazy – why would anyone want to be there full-time. Of course that was before I realized that I would never make enough money there to go to the doctor for the rest of my life.)

So I went to my Team Leader to tell her that I wanted to go full-time. It was her first day as TL (both of the previous two people in the position left as broken women), and she wanted to know why I was telling her. She called her boss (they have weird titles there, and I can’t remember his).

He met with me and told me that I would need to be fully available. We went over my attendance. I cannot get used to using a time-clock and being required to take breaks. If you are a minute late in the morning, at break, or on lunch, the clock forgives you. Otherwise you get “written up”. I’m not sure why we did the review, the rules don’t say anything about needing to be point-free to change status (although by this point I’m wondering if the whole thing might be pointless.)

So I was eligible and the change was made (to their credit, it was the beginning of the following week). I now have more vacation days, a better 401(k) match, better health care, and some change to my pension that I don’t remember. When I hired in they told me that I was not eligible for the hourly pension; the benefit system says I have been since my hire date (they really need HR people).

So am I a happy clam now? Relatively speaking, yes. Total availability means that I have to work whenever they schedule me. I am not overly worried about being put on midnights – it requires a $0.25/hr premium. The manager-guy told me my hours wouldn’t change – of course, I couldn’t see the asterisk saying it was subject to change at any time. I am no longer allowed to take unpaid time off. So I guess if some kind of crisis arises, I need to call in. That gives me a “point” on my record (which I guess is their idea of a deterrent). If I know I need a day off, I have to work on one of my regularly scheduled off days. So basically, I am at their mercy as to when I need to be there (I’m not really sure how that differs significantly from part-time). Like everything else there, I’m sure

So I guess I officially have a “real” job. My professors would be so proud of me.

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The Set-Up

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Somehow my MBA didn’t save me from the bad economy a few years ago. (Go figure – guess it wasn’t just happening to someone else). The job I had excelled at for 20 years (in the HR industry was being swallowed by another, bigger job description. I pictured it as one of those pictures with the line of fish with their mouths open, each one eating the next smaller fish until the giant fish devoured everyone. So I had to find something to do.

I live in the Midwest, that part of the country that no one cares about unless the weather puts us in the headlines. Which is a huge improvement over the previous lumping under “Rustbelt”, a sad commentary on our place in the American psyche. Unfortunately, when it comes to looking for a career, sometimes “The Dead Zone” (apologies to Stephen King) is a better description.

I discovered that I was no longer qualified for most positions in HR. It was probably for the best. In my last position I was in constant trouble because I was standing up for the employees. (I hadn’t realized that the job qualification of ‘being able to say no” applied to the staff, not the customer.) My resume, which had looked eclectic in the past (some HR, some tech, some project work), now showed that while I was talented I didn’t appear to have a passion for anything. At least anything that someone would pay me to do.

So I did what any self-respecting professional would do – sat on the sofa and felt sorry for myself. On the bright side, I did not end up a ‘Toddlers & Tiaras” addict. And I tried to find a job. I discovered that the advice to use “the words that employers want to hear” on my resume (to keep it from getting kicked out from the parser the employer was using) is worthless – thousands of other people were reading the same articles and clips.

Finally, I became desperate enough to take any interview I could get. I applied to the deli at a regional big-box store (let’s call it Ralph’s Mega-Mart and hope there isn’t really one in the Midwest). The day of the interview, I had a semi-rant about how this would probably be the interview that would end in a job offer. Of course, it was the only interview I’d had in recent memory, including other low-paying, low-prestige jobs. Sure enough, Ralph’s wanted me.

I should have had a clue at the orientation when they gave us company-issue polyester shirts at the orientation. They varied by department – the deli wears dirty orange (they call it rust). The first few days reminded my of the saying “the less at stake, the more vigorously people defend their position”. Each person who trained me explained why they were doing things rights and everyone else was wrong. I was on afternoons, so the real ogres were the day-shift. I had learned to do dishes, close up, and fry chicken before management decided they needed someone out in the store on packaged cheese (e.g. Kraft, Velveeta, store-brand). For some reason. Ralph’s sees these products as tied to the deli rather than dairy.

Apparently I showed potential (and very little training investment), so I moved over. I didn’t know it, but it was the best day of my life at Ralph’s (sad, but true). At the time, I didn’t understand the true personality of the deli – a half-dozen people working under pressure, in close quarters, reporting to a supervisor with virtually no interpersonal skills. Not to mention wages approximately $3 below living standards, limited benefits, and hours that could begin at 6a and end at 11p, seven days a week including all holidays + Christmas.

So began my adventures in cheese…