The Tales of Target: Episode 9

I escaped! I am no longer a slave to the monotony of the front end. No more cash registers, or service desk. No more “Can I speak to a manager?” and quite possibly best of all, no more late nights closing.

Ah yes, Reader, you are hearing me correctly, I am now a back room employee. I now arrive to my shift at 5 A.M. and head back to unload the truck. We call it a gym membership that pays you to be there. “Throwing” is a position that is quite self explanatory. You grab items and boxes off the truck and heave them behind you to the line of employees behind you sorting them accordingly. I am a thrower.

As ecstatic as I am about my new position, the free workout has its downfalls. The downfall, you ask? Well, working out implies increased heart rate, which leads to sweating. Meaning, for the rest of my shift after the truck is unloaded, I spend trying to dry my shirt of the sweat stains. Red is an infamously stainable color shirt to wear, and there’s no escaping red at Target.

This was my first week in my new position. The store opens at 7 A.M. which works out to be pretty close to when the truck is empty. By this point, I know you know a funny story is coming in my series of unfortunate events of a job. As mentioned, I sweat during throwing. It is inevitable. On my first day away from the front end, my red Portland Thorns t-shirt now sported a darker red fabric in the armpit area and some faint outlines of a sports bra. I accepted the new fashion statement and returned to the sales floor to stock the grocery section.

I know you know my opinion on children in retail (little screaming birth controls). I was minding my own business stocking some Granny Smith apples when a parent-less child tugged on my jeans. I looked down at the miniature shopper. Before I could ask if she needed help finding her mom, these words left her mouth: “My mommy makes me change my clothes when I’m smelly.” A shot to the heart. A low blow. Did I smell? Or did her little brain associate sweat stains with smelling? She scampered off rejoining her mom who emerged from a nearby aisle. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the child’s words to heart, but I now own a new red shirt from the clothing department. It became my new attire the rest of the shift.