When I was a teenager, I worked for a big chain grocery store as a bagger, in the great state of Texas. I was 15 at the time. My managers name… let’s call him Jim. Jim was a very harsh on us. He treated us poorly, like we were beneath him; we never bagged quickly enough, or returned from customers’ cars fast enough, he claimed. He was the type of manager you hate to have.
On this particular day, we had a ‘severe thunderstorm’, as we call them here in Texas. Basically, a torrential downpour with loads of lightning strikes and amazingly loud thunderclaps. It was raining so hard, my jacket was even soaked through, even though I was wearing a poncho over it (which I had to pay for). It was winter. It was quite cold out. I was shivering, teeth chattering. This big, built guy, dressed like your typical biker comes through the lane I’m bagging for. He’s around 6’4″, probably over 225lbs. When I finish bagging his things, I ask if he’d like help out to his car:
Bikerdude: Are you kidding me?! Look at you! You’re already soaked! You must be freezing. They’re gonna make you go back out in this crap?!
Me: Well, yeah, I guess so…
Bikerdude: Where’s your manager? Is it that little nerd with the clipboard over there? The dry one in that stupid vest?
Me through laughter: Yeah, that’s Jim.
Bikerdude: HEY, JIM!
Bikerdude then storms over to where Jim is standing.
Bikerdude: Hey there JIM! Look at this kid. She’s soaked to the bone and cold! Why are you making these kids go out in this mess?
Jim: …hello… Um… Sir? Well, to help our customers…
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