Archives for the month of: November, 2012

Donna Louise here scurrying around like a cockroach when the lights come on. This working has tossed me off schedule. No more early morning breakfasts followed by hours of doing what I want. Now I must appear at work at 8 a.m. sharp for our daily “briefing” and tips on catching shoplifters. It almost sounds like I’m a police officer. I wonder if I’ll have the chance to yell, “Freeze. Spread ‘em.”

Yesterday I filled out all the paper work. They gave me a store detective handbook to read and memorize (as if). Today I’ll meet my co-detectives in a dark room (so we don’t really know what each other looks like).

The thought of working with people I don’t know bothers me, but, as the human resources person explained, I will perform my job better if I think other people are watching me. Sounds kind of communist country like to me, but I don’t plan to do anything illegal so I should be okay.

I have my designer sandwich, a bag of gourmet chips, a Fuji apple and an artisan chocolate all packed in my brown paper bag. One should eat well while one is working. I even wrote my initials on the bag just in case someone becomes confused about which lunch bag is theirs. Wish I could have found my Wonder Woman lunchbox, but it’s buried somewhere downstairs in a box. It’s so cool.

OMG, I’ve passed my drop dead departure time. Gotta run for now.

I’m off to be part of truth, justice and the reduction of the five-finger discount. Wish me luck.

Donna Louise here wishing I had a good pair of shoes to wear at my job. Maybe I’ll buy a pair with my first check.

 I showed up at 8 a.m. for my interview. A lovely man checked me in. He showed me to a seat where I was to wait until a woman came for me. She arrived in a minute and asked me to follow her. We walked down a hall to a conference room. Before she opened the door, she said, “Take that seat in the middle of the room. They will ask you questions. When they’re finished, they will either offer you a job or they’ll thank you for your time. Be sure to get the $50 check from them BEFORE you leave the room because once you leave, you can’t get back in. Understand?”

I nodded. She pushed the door open and smiled as I walked through. A group of three people, two men and one woman, sat at a table looking all sour. I walked to the chair in the center of the room and sat down. Turning on my “I want to be the next Miss America” smile I looked at each of them. They remained grim with nary a smile, but I continued to give them shiny teeth and upturned corners of my mouth.

Without so much as a “Hello” one of the men started asking questions.

I held up my hand. “Before you go any further, I want to know who you all are and why you are asking me questions.”

They looked at one another and then turned to stare at me.

The woman said, “We not here to answer questions. You are. Now, as he was saying…”

“Excuse me. I did not climb out of be at 6 a.m. to come to this interview to be treated like this. You can hand me my check for $50 right now and I’ll leave you all to be rude to someone else.”

“You don’t understand. We always…”

I held out my hand. “No, it’s you who doesn’t understand. I will not be treated like this at an interview. What must you treat you employees like? I can only assume it will be worse. So, hand me my $50 and I’ll be on my way home.”

The woman looked at the two men and motioned for them to come closer. They talked for awhile and then she turned to face me. “You’re hired. Here’s your check for $50. Please exit the room and the woman outside the door will take you to the human resources office.”

I just sat there. I wasn’t moving until I got some answers. Well, I moved to take the check, but I sat back down.

“Excuse me, Ms…..” She scanned my application for my name.

“Donna Louise.”

“Yes, Ms. Donna Louise, didn’t you understand? You can go now. You have the job.”

“Yes, I understood, but you haven’t answered MY questions:  who are you three and what’s the job? I don’t move until I get those answers.”

One of the men looked at the woman and said, “She’s perfect.”

Before I walked out of the office I learned their names and that the job involved catching shoplifters. I’m to report for work on Friday. I’ll sign in, receive some training and hit the floor to catch people tucking items away and trying to get out of the store with them without paying. I don’t know exactly how I feel about the job. I’ve never wanted to be the long, or short, arm of the law, but I’ll try it for a few days. At least long enough to purchase farm animals for all my friends for the holidays.

Best of all I get a badge to carry.