A Moment from My Last Shift

October 1, 2025 

A Moment from My Last Shift

Oh my God—my last shift was full of moments that were hilarious, frustrating, and downright baffling.

I was working the floor while K, the cashier, was stationed at the cash counter, organizing candy. She had already made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to cash out guests, no matter how long the line got. At that moment, there was no line, but I noticed an elderly woman walking toward the counter with her ticket in hand. As I passed by, K held up a single bag of candy and said, “Can you go put this where it belongs over there?”

I said yes, but also mentioned that I saw a guest approaching and was heading to the register to help her. After all, our job is to serve guests—not each other. K seemed confused and said, “What elderly woman?” I replied, “What do you mean, no? You’re busy with the candy.” But it wasn’t just about the candy—K was trying to control my every move, redirecting me however she pleased.

I wondered if I’d said something wrong by calling the woman “elderly,” or if I was breaking some unspoken rule by trying to help a guest. K had already told me not to cash anyone out, but I saw this woman struggling to walk and instinctively wanted to help. I squeezed past K, who was physically blocking the entrance to the register, and reached the woman before she got there. I cashed her out quickly, saving her a few steps.

K was stunned. But I didn’t do it to defy her—I did it because helping guests is more important than following arbitrary commands from coworkers. If I hadn’t been on my way to assist the woman, I would’ve gladly taken the candy across the room. It just felt like K was trying to keep me away from guest-facing tasks and assign me busywork instead.

This kind of behavior isn’t new. It’s like they want to control every move I make—not for the benefit of the guests, but for their own convenience. The dominance game they play is exhausting, and the rules are always unclear. It’s not about teamwork; it’s about control.

The toxic environment spills over into my personal time. It poisons my rest and recovery, and I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. Some people can endure toxic workplaces longer than others, but this place drains me. It’s like trying to survive while being slowly choked.

That shift reminded me of another incident with a shift leader—let’s call her M. She was late one morning and called in to speak with the manager. I answered the phone, and she told me, “Just be sure you’re out on that sales floor.” It was early, no guests were around, and I was the only cashier.

Her comment made no sense, but it was another example of how they try to make it seem like I’m the one not doing my job—another step in the dominance game.

Honestly, I’ve never worked with a group like this before. Is it just this store? Is it the low-income, undereducated environment? It wasn’t like this in the 1990s. Back then, managers wore suits and ties, and coworkers were kind. Now, it feels rough—like a completely different world.