Raw

Let’s Celebrate

Guess what, folks.

I’m getting married tomorrow.

If you drink, have a toast with me.

You can use grape juice. Or lemonade. They make all sorts of sparkling waters these days too.

Anyway, this will be my last night as a bachelorette, and I couldn’t be happier.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin

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Ponderings

2.0 Stories From the Front Lines

Titled: Technological Failures

Subtitled: But only the links we use and need every day to operate…


Ladies and gentlemen,

It’s no lie that retail can be ranked as one of the worst jobs around. Working with the public is never easy, but working with everything else involved in managing a store front can be taxing on the best of days.

Since accepting the position of supervisor, I’ve learned enough about upper management’s short-falls to make me sick. It’s akin to being a teacher in a classroom – unending responsibility and hardship, absolutely no control over the students or politics.

Here, I’ll begin to regale you with tales I like to call “Stories From the Front Lines,” because it’s here that I’ve discovered what it truly means to lead a team.


Today’s theme is defined by tripped alarms and stubborn computers…specifically only the links I NEED to load.

There is no small amount of work that needs doing on our computers, specifically during the morning shift which was where I found myself one morning. I couldn’t log in to the basic network, which was where EVERYTHING resided, but fortunately I could at least log into the back network and get such things as registers and terminals online.

My plight was not nearly as disastrous as the manager’s, as she had to finish payroll and was having a difficult time of it…

IF THERE’S A GOD, PLEASE LET US GET PAID IN TIME!

And after yet another complaint against various persons because the store manager has no disciplinary skills, I’ve come to the conclusion that everyone is tired of this place and just scraping to get by.

We’ve lost two good people in the last week, and I can summarize my team as follows:

The lazy, selfish old man who cares nothing for others.

The woman hiding her insecurities behind snark and sarcasm and that incessant laugh.

And the gentleman who speaks to no one, but who gives you the distinct impression he’s living within a musical somewhere…

There’s no zip. There’s no zap.

There’s no spark.

Welcome to Walgreens – the land of zombies – where service is always with an undead smile and the occasional eyeball can be seen rolling lazily down the cosmetic aisle.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin