The Wrong Trousers!

In most jobs, there is some kind of dress code or even a strict uniform.  Mine is no exception.  The uniform is: white button-up shirt, tie, khaki pants, name tag, shoes of some kind.

Last night, I was expecting to be working alongside a particular coworker.  This coworker was the same one I described in a post about a month ago.  About the time he was supposed to show up, the store’s phone rings.  Usually when the phone rings, it’s because someone wants to order a pizza from us (yes we make pizza, but I don’t know why people order pizza from a gas station), or it’s because someone wants to bitch out an employee because of some world-ending slight we committed against them while they were at the store.  I answered the phone, and he told me he would be late and frantically asked for the home phone number of the store manager.  Confused and busy with customers, I gave him the number and hung up.

About fifteen minutes later he calls back, saying that he ripped his work pants and didn’t know if he should wear some non-khaki pants or go buy new ones.  I told him to wear something and get his ass to work because I was getting swamped with customers.  This was happening right at the 5-6pm rush hour, and there was a storm incoming, so everyone was buying everything like it was the apocalypse.

About ten minutes after that, the general manager calls me and tells me that he’s letting my coworker stop by the store and borrow $30 from the register to buy new pants because he didn’t have enough money on him to buy any new pants.  He said that if he didn’t wear the complete uniform, he would not be allowed to work.  I told the general manager that by the time the coworker was able to get over to the store, take the money, find a place that sold khaki pants, get a pair that fits well, and get back to the store, his shift would be over (his shift was only a three-hour shift for helping during the rush hour).  I said that the coworker might as well not even show up.

About forty five minutes later, after getting more and more pissed off at him, the coworker shows up in an ill-fitting pair of pants, but still within the uniform policy.  He had borrowed the $30 from his dad instead.  I was informed that beyond the khaki pants he ripped, the only other clothes he had to cover his ass was shorts and pajama bottoms.

He did a couple of things in the store for about an hour and then left.

For all of you newly minted employees out there – If you have to wear a uniform at work, and it’s not supplied to you by your job, I would strongly suggest having more than one of any essential thing.  If you rip your pants and it becomes an international crisis, you’ve planned poorly.

Have I told you lately how much I love my job?

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