Taking Stock Read Online Free Page A

pushing shopping carts past rows of parked cars. A truck screeches to a halt a meter away from her. The driver leans out his window and shouts, “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, lady!”
    Sandy wags a finger at him. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, mister! I’m wearing a bright orange safety vest with yellow reflectors, as per safety regulations!”
    Gilbert steps forward and turns off the TV. “Anyway. You get the idea, right?”
    “I guess.”
    “Sandy is a lie, by the way. There are no girls in Grocery.”
    “Why not?”
    “There just aren’t.”
    The warehouse is accessed through a set of red swinging doors. We’re in a tiny office to the right of them. The warehouse has walls and floor of cracked concrete. Towers of cardboard boxes sit on wooden pallets all around, and still more boxes sit on carts like the one Gilbert left in Aisle Two. A metal rail runs along the walls, low to the floor, and the space between is overflowing with litter.
    “Is Ernest working today?” I ask.
    “Nope.”
    “So, what if that customer calls Frank and says ‘Ernest’ mistreated him today? Won’t Frank figure out what really happened?”
    “Oh, are you concerned for my welfare? Trying to save me from myself?”
    “I didn’t—”
    “Frank never knows who’s working. If he gets a complaint about Ernest, he’ll do what he always does—call the fat fucker to the office and tell him off.”
    Gilbert directs me up a staircase farther into the warehouse, to the washroom for male employees, where I change into the Spend Easy shirt. Then we head back toward the sales floor.
    “So,” I say. “How long have you been working here?”
    “What?”
    “How long—”
    “I’m not interested in making small talk with you.”
    We walk to Aisle One. Gilbert takes a box of plastic bags near the back of the shelf and slides it to the front.  “Fronting,” he says. He places a second box behind it, and then stacks another atop each one. “For the first three months, every rookie fronts. Nothing else. Aisles One through Five, Dairy, and the freezers. It all gets fronted. Makes the shelves look neat and full—for a time. But as you front, the customers will slowly pick apart your work behind you. Usually, by the time you get to Aisle Five, Aisle One will look like you never touched it.”
    I reach into the shelf and bring a box to the front. Then, another. I create a wall like Gilbert’s—two high and two deep. “This doesn’t seem so bad.”
    “Sure thing, Sisyphus.” He walks away.
    I grab another box.
    I finish the plastic bags and start on dish detergents. After those, scrub pads. Then light bulbs—incandescent and fluorescent. Scented candles. Air fresheners. Household cleaners. I stand back and study my work: a solid wall of product. Tidy. Sort of calming, actually.
    A woman pauses to my left, takes two boxes of plastic bags, and drops them into her cart.
    There’s a hole in my wall.
    I dig for two more boxes.
    The assistant manager of Produce drops by while I’m fronting dryer sheets. He’s skinny, with curly red hair that sticks out from underneath a black baseball cap. “I’m Merridan,” he says. “Jack Merridan. I’ve been working here since the store first opened, eight years ago.”
    Jack tells me Spend Easy has a theft problem, and Frank is certain the culprits work in Grocery. He’s asked Jack to discreetly investigate the matter. Jack wants me to help—to let him know if I catch anyone taking stock without paying for it. My cooperation will be rewarded. Raises, promotions, hours tailored to my liking. All I have to do is snitch.
    “I don’t know,” I say.
    “Sorry?”
    “This is my first day—it feels a little early to get involved in, um, politics.”
    “Are you planning to steal food, too, then?”
    “No. I’m just not comfortable spying on people.”
    “Okay. I’ll find someone else to do it. And I’ll tell him to keep an eye on you.”
    “I’m no