Marcus Fant

No Saturdays

Marcus Fant

It should’ve been just another wintery, long, frigid Saturday at CVS, but my probationary period

had just ended and the store manager decided to evaluate my growth as an employee. The heat

had been on ever since I started, and nowthe store manager had begun grilling me as to why

wasn’t I performing up to his expectations. I knew they had been unrealistic because we both

came from Rite Aid, which we knew was significantly harder. Harder in the sense that Rite Aid

kept its workers understaffed and expected them to stay until they completed their task, even

though there wasn’t enough people to get it done in a reasonable amount of time. I didn’t know

what to say to him because some of the shift supervisors, who were also from Rite Aid, had been

giving it 150 percent and he expected the same from me. My attitude since I’d started had been

“Work just hard enough,” and that didn’t produce “hard enough” results, at least in the

manager’s eyes.

The one-sided conversation between us continued to go south, and at some point he asked

me something along the lines of, “If you’re performing significantly below my expectations, then

tell me what do you think I should do?” Fear as well as desperation set in as “fired” and “cut

hours” burned through my brain. Desperation led to telling the store manager, “I will work

harder” as we left the back room, and I followed through despite believing that my efforts as a

cashier/stocker was not enough for the job.

With the upcoming spring semester at Community College of Philadelphia, I had already

decided that I needed to put a monumental effort towards my course, not my job. The job was

everything to the store manager, and he was under the assumption that his employees felt the

same way, but this was just a stepping stone from one shitty job to another for more pay.

My return to school was a much-welcomed reprieve, if only temporary, from this job that

I was beginning to hate, and the store manager would be forced to schedule me earlier because I

had class at 6p.m.

The only thing that mattered to me was getting good scheduling, as I was under the

assumption that because I was paid 11 dollars an hour, my paycheck would always be a high

number, even if my hours took a hit.

One month later, the great struggle for my free time had began, and my feelings about the

current state of my life had been building up. I was finally making enough money to see my

loctician to get my locs retwisted once a month, but something got in the way. I wanted to see

my friends as muchas possible, but something got in the way. I needed to focus on passing this

class, but something got in the way! That something had been work, as I was required to close

the store, work weekends, and holidays as scheduled.

One Saturday early in March, Ihad finished my task of pulling the old sales tags so the

new tags could get put up on Sunday. The next task completely caught me off guard. One of the

managers had asked me to single-handedly vacuum the entire store. A walking vacuum had

recently been purchased and left charging in the break room apparently to optimize the task,

maybe even encourage it. It was small enough to sit on top of a shopping basket with wheels, but

the stretchy vacuum hose required a lot of uncomfortable bending and stooping. Theonly other

option was the normal-sized vacuum, which to my misfortune had been working properly that

day. I refused to use the walking vacuum (when I should’ve refused the task altogether), and I

had angrily begun the futile task of vacuuming the entire store.

Becoming frustrated with my job, I felt that if I could change just one aspect of my

scheduling, just for myself, then maybe that could help ease my frustration. I campaigned for

Saturdays off armed with the argument that “I could focus on school better” and “I needed one

Saturday out of every month to get my locs retwisted”. I’m not sure exactly when, but sometime

after the vacuum incident I decided to ask the store manager for Saturdays off. I felt that if I

could change just one aspect of my scheduling, just for myself, then maybe that could help ease

the frustration caused by missed plans and the need to focus on my classes. One shift, I went to

the store manager’s office. Nervousness welled up inside me, as I quickly realized that “I could

focus on school better” and “I needed one Saturday a month to get my locs retwisted” weren’t

arguments at all in relation to the stores need for me.

“We can’t give you every Saturday off.” replied the Operations Manager (OPS).

The store manager in Training (SMIT) said “If we gave you Saturdays off, I would have

to be in here more.”

The store manager said, “Why do you need every Saturday off to get your hair done? I’ve

never met anyone who needed their hair done that much.” This effectively tore apart my

argument.

That didn’t stop me as I had already made up my mind about my choice for a permanent

day off and quite frankly, I was beginning to not care; the only problem was that I didn’t know

how to tell the store manager.

The following week of March 10, 2019, my hours had been severely cut, leaving me with

only five hours for the entire week. Naturally, the store managers decision had pissed me off, and

I needed to vent at that time. I wrote in my journal the morning before I worked and after I got

off in the afternoon. What spurred on the early-morning journaling was the text message

response I got from the store manager upon asking for more hours:

“Hours are based upon execution and work performance. Colleagues earn hours based

upon those two metrics.”

Here’s what I wrote in my journal:

3/13/19 -Either I need to quit cvs and get a nice chilling job or I NEED more hours

because this is some bullshit and the store manager knows it and he doesn't give a

fuck. I even remember him telling me don't come crying to me if you need more hours

that one day but I told him I can't work Saturdays anymore. - honestly I'm in this app

again because I'm going through some shit the morning I have to work. - first at the very

least I need to make enough to cover rent and provide for myself but at only 5 hours for

the next 2 weeks i can barely even afford the life I have now.

Near the end of my shift that same day that I wrote in my journal, I decided to confront

the store manager about his decision to cut my hours. A month, give or take a few days had

passed since he checked in on my progress as a cashier/stocker after my probationary period

ended, and I believed that I had improved. His recent decision had proven contrary to my belief

in my abilities, so earlier in my shift I began to push myself. I worked harder and faster,

knocking out tote after tote, quickly stocking the shelves with a shred of doubt in my belief in

my abilities that belied my speed. Five hours added to nothing on my next paycheck, despite

that, I pushed myself, with the thought of “Is this job even worth it?” lingering behind me.

Journal Update: it's the afternoon. I just finished my shift and I had another talk with the

store manager this time with OPS and SMIT there. So now they're going to be watching

me and holding me accountable by my actions. Like I say I work hard. I can prove it just

by keeping the same pace i had to day and getting faster. I fucking hate the store

manager. it seems like he’s never on my side hes always like I move so slow or I look

so confused and I have to be dancing circles around everyone there. Like, fuck, man, I

just want a job where I can chill and not worry about my hours and shit.

The week after the store manager cut my hours, there were some changes to my situation

at work. Atthe need and discretion of the store manager, I was on call at my home store with

him asking if I wanted to come in Wednesday and Thursday. Wednesday was truck day, and the

next few days after involved spending a lot of payroll to schedule the most workers, pushing it to

get the truck done. Truck day was important because the truck only stayed long enough to get

that stores shipment out of the truck and that was the day that many stores could use an extra

hand and, to my surprise, the store manager had at least recognized my stocking abilities if

nothing else. It was at this same period that I began picking up hours at a nearby 24-hour CVS,

or 8984 as I’ll call it.

Store 8984 is what can be described as a perpetual mess of a store in and out of the

backroom. I quickly learned to my fortune that the colleagues didn’t stay long and they called

out often. I needed hours, and I felt that in order to get more, I had to work hard enough for the

managers there to take notice. My store manager had said that I didn’t give good customer

service, so I felt that if I worked on that, especially at the register, someone would take notice.

One way I gave good customer service was practicing G.O.T. or Greeting customers,

Offering help, and then Thanking them. My go-to fake-ass greeting was “Good whatever!

Welcome to CVS, did you need help with anything?” Whatever was usually replaced with the

relevant time of day and maybe a smile if I felt like it. Another way was helping customers find

the majority of the products for which they came in, while answering their questions about the

products or the return policy until we reached the register.

While helping them check out, I would try to make them feel like we care by asking them

things like “How are you?” or by responding to their troubles by saying “I’m sorry x and y thing

happened to you.” Near the end you would get a little more personal by saying “If you need help

with anything in the future, my name’s Marcus; let me know” and then seal the deal with a

prompt “Thanks for shopping with us”.

I was unsure as to whether or not my efforts to give good customer service had yielded

satisfactory results, so I began asking the managers for feedback at the end of my shifts at 8984.

The managers of 8984 didn’t say much except that I give good customer service and I’m a good

stocker. I felt there were other areas I could use improvement on like the speed of my checkouts,

which often enough led to mistakes at the register, and somehow I didn’t page for help enough. I

regularly picked up hours at 8984 until May, when my semester at CCP ended and my store

manager decided to give me more hours at my home store.

Right before the month began, my store manager sent me a text asking for my availability

for the first week onwards. He said he wanted to be on the same page regarding my availability,

and the days he was going to put me down for worked for me, except for Saturdays. There were

two comic-book-related events on the 4th and the 18th, and I DID NOT WANT TO MISS

THEM. I talked to the storemanager and said, “Put a request in on the scheduling app”, or

something, which of course, would be subjected to bullshit company rules. Surprisingly, the first

request was approved. The second one was where my fight began. On one shift that I shared with

the store manager, I brought up the topic of myavailability and how it included Saturdays off. I

dreaded this conversation. My nerves flared up and the words fell out with little force or logic

behind them. I pleaded with him, as he barely paid attentionbefore I settled, suggesting a

question that should’ve been a demand. There I stood on my last leg, copping out on my earlier

demands with the question “If I can’t have Saturdays off can I come in early every Saturday?”

He put down the box of seasonal candy that he was stocking, turned to face me, and

began to speak. His hands moved with him to really get his argument across as his words hit me,

all at once:

“Saturday morning shifts are crucial to the store. I need to know that you can arrive here

on time, ready to work. If I put you on then you shouldn’t have to call me to the front every 5

seconds. You should be able to hold down the front area by yourself.” The discussion went from

Saturdays off, to coming in early every Saturday as my nerves were on fireand my stomach

began to hurt. I weakly responded with “What if there was a line or what if the situation called

for a manager? Then who would I call?” to which he responded “We have an assisted checkout

area. If you could properly hold down the front, then lines shouldn’t be a problem. Other than

that, situations that require a manager should be the only reason that you call for a manager.

Right now, you’re far from capable of working an early morning Saturday shift.”

There was silence before he folded hishands and politely but firmly said “Did I answer

all of your questions, sir?” Having a suffered a defeat, I lied and said “yes”before getting back to

work. The evening after that shift in my dark living room, I felt a combination of anger and

sadness, followed by nervousness as I began to write in my journal.

5/11/19 -I've said it once before and I'll say it again: I'M NOT COMING IN ON

SATURDAY'S. FUCK THAT SHIT. -as of right now im sick of the store manager and im

sick of my store and i'm sick of the bullshit so I've come to the conclusion that if he

schedules me for saturday then i'm not coming in. I might just do a no call no show or

something but i'm not coming in. I was both sad and angry and my stomach was hurting

thinking about this shit like i'm sick of it. Im sick of the store manager, i'm sick of his

store, and all the bullshit like FUCK THIS JOB IM READY TO QUIT. -i need to start

applying for jobs, mainly jobs like kumon so I can start moving away from this retail shit

like im sick of working retail. Im sick of this shit. Im done with the shitty conversations I

gotta have with shitty managers and i'm sick of not getting good scheduling like I work

too fucking hard to have my ONLY request for a permanent day off denied. Fuck this job

man just fuck it.

After I finished journaling I came to the conclusion that no matter what I said to the store ma

nager, he wasn’t going to listen to me. Near the end of one shift before the 18th I spoke to OPS a

nd asked him somethingalong the lines of:

“What if I told the store manager that I can’t work Saturdays anymore?” OPS then replied

“You know if you do that you’ll just get taken off of the schedule again right?”

“Ok that’s fine by me, you can even tell him yourself.”

I replied angrily And I grabbed my stuff and prepared to leave. Later that night I learned that

OPS did in fact tell the store manager as I received an inconvenient phone call around 10 p.m. I

had an idea as to why the store manager was calling, but I didn’t want to think about it.

Nervously, I answered. “I just received word from OPS telling me that you’re not coming in for

Saturday anymore. Is this true?”

“Yes” I replied nervously.

“You do understand that I can’t guarantee you any hours in the future correct?”

“Yes that’s fine.”

“Just making sure that we understand each other. Have a good night.”

The call ended and I was surprised that I wasn’t fired.

One thing that I would like to impart to my readers that, these jobs, do not care about you! I’ve

seen one of my friends from Rite Aid, get fired because he asked for time off because he was in

the hospital because his girlfriend recently broke up with him and he overworked himself to

exhaustion. If some minor injury that required you to be out of work for a fewdays happened to

you, God forbid it, your job would most likely let you go. In this shitty capitalist hellscape that

we currently live in, everyone is replaceable and that’s not ok. I fought for Saturdays off because

I didn’t want to overwork myself and Iwanted to enjoy my life by going to Free Comic Book

Day on the first Saturday of May, and the East Coast Black Age of Comics Convention on the

third Saturday. I advise my readers to take some time out for yourself and don’t overwork

yourself. The money isn’t going anywhere and neither is the job providing the money so please,

take care of yourselves.