The Wraith

There was a sense of unease when I walked through the door to work this morning. Some tension in the air. Maybe, I thought, it's because the assistant manager opened, or OWGAWE was late again. (How I hoped she was late again.) I could just sense that the three people behind the counter were tense.

I wasn't going to ask them about it. Why would I want to have their troubles spread to me? I didn't want to feel bad too. At 9:30, I found out why they were so unhappy.

Today was the monthly visit from one who upsets us all. They call him the District Manager or his name, to his face. Like all DMs, he's a wraith like figure who everyone knows exists, but all fear to meet. During all the days and weeks we don't see him, we occasionally get e-mail filled with instructions that we are already following or that don't make any sense at all (How the hell do I "interweave the pastries"?), or a phone call that makes The Manger and TWBMs go crazy. Today, the wraith floated into our store to wreck the havoc they all so enjoy.

He made sure to arrive fifteen minutes early so that when The Manager showed up, she'd think she was late. During those fifteen minutes, he hovered around his favorite table until the couple sitting at it left, he set up his laptop and other materials, then hovered around the bar asking us how we were, but not really giving a rat's testicle how we really are. He really wanted to instill fear in us as we tried to make drinks for the eight people who were waiting for the drinks they could barely order. I was one of the lucky two, I was taking orders and he couldn't talk to me unless he was willing to disturb customers, but that would destroy the his evil powers.

The Manager finally came through the door, and The Wraith had one particular person he could focus on sucking the life out of. I was just happy he was moving away from me. I think the customers were glad he was gone, too.

Most of the day, he and The Manager were at his favorite table. He talked, she nodded. I don't know how much she was actually hearing. If I was the one at the table, I would have been singing to myself the whole time.

The times The Wraith came near me, I fled--to the dishes or to clean the lobby or to the trash--anywhere that wasn't near him. I was even given two quests by the TWBM who was there. One was to bleach the sidewalk where morons constantly spill their drinks changing the color from stupid gray to stupid brownish gray. I was outside for a good thirty minutes, always nice, even if I was scrubbing sidewalk. The other was a job that should have been handled the last time the merchandise was rearranged, the marking down of clearance items. This required me to carry ten object to a register, use it for five minutes without helping a single customer, making a list, then playing with the price gun. I didn't have to speak with any co-workers while doing it. And I convinced a lady to buy one of the things by lying to her and saying that I had one and it was great. (I know I was doing my job, but I felt dirty after she bought it.)

As I counted out my drawer, The Manager frantically searched though her papers for the forms that all the people who were on the shift during that bad Snapshot had to fill out. She kept saying that she hoped they were all signed. Mine isn't signed. I left work quickly, so that when it was discovered that mine wasn't signed, I wouldn't be there.

I wonder what The Manager told The Wraith.