Sherman, set the Wayback Machine to the late 90's. Set scene, Gas Station with fast food restaurant attached, and the single worst Manager I have ever heard of, let alone been forced to work for.
The story you are about to read is true, the names have been changed to protect the Fuckheads. No, seriously, it's true. In fact, I had to edit out about 80% of what I went through or I would have spent a good 6 hours typing.Day 1) My very first day. I am being trained on second shift, by a skanked out druggie bitch. ( I should have figured out right then that things were afoot, I mean, after all, I put my application in at 8 AM that morning, had my interview about one minute later, and was told to report for training that afternoon...) The day doesn't go all that bad, at first. I'm new, so I'm getting the shit details, as well as having to run the register with the Bitch standing behind me watching what I do. No surprise.
It gets close to the time for third shift to arrive, and the Bitch, acting all nice, says "Hey, why don't you slip into the back room and have a cigarette? I can handle this for a bit." I'm thinking this is cool, she is a smoker, and we have been working breaks for each other all night.
I slip into the back room, have a seat, fire up a smoke, and keep my eye on the monitor in case she gets rushed. And here is what I see: A woman comes into the store, walks up to the counter, and orders two cartons of cigarettes. I watch the little ticker on the side of the monitor as they get rung up. The bitch takes some money. And then voids the transaction, hits No Sale to open the register, sets the money on the side of the register, and gives the woman her change. She then picks up the money as if she's going to make a Drop, and walks off camera (the camera that points at the safe was out, and never did get fixed the entire time I worked there).
I act all normal when I walk back to the register, and few minutes later third shift arrives. We go to do our checkout (Oh, did I mention there was only one register?) and, BIG SURPRISE, we discover that the cash count is short by NEARLY A HUNDRED DOLLARS!
The Bitch says not to worry, the manager will find the issue in the morning, and we go home. Knowing what is likely to be coming I get extremely drunk, and pass out.
At noon, the earliest I could force myself to get up and get cleaned up, I go into the store, and go straight to the manager. I tell her exactly what I had seen the previous night.
Turns out, as I had expected, the Bitch had called the manager first thing, and claimed that I was stealing from the register. The cunt of a manager (you'll see) says that she watched the tapes of the night before, watching every little move I made, and had come to the conclusion that I was not to blame. ( No fucking duh. I have never, in all my days on a register, taken so much as a dime.)
I figure that the manager will see the issue I told her about, fire the Bitch, and all will be cool. She then tells me to go home and get some extra sleep. Because we are now shorthanded, she has decided that she can trust me, and that I will be working third shift by myself that night.This is not a big deal for me. By then I had been working gas stations long enough that the only training I needed was learning the new register, and I had that down pat in the first hour. (This is the late 90s remember, cash registers were easy.)
I go home, drink a few beers, pass out. Get up, arrive at work 15 minutes early. To find the Bitch (you know, the one that was stealing) running the register. Turns out we were short handed not because she got fired, but because the third shift person quit! The Bitch checks out, interestingly her drawer comes up fine, she leaves, neither of us said a word.
Two AM comes along and I finally get a break in the flow of customers. I lock the front door, and head for the back for a smoke while I check the cooler for restocking. Guess what I discover?
The monitor that points at the cash register has now had the little ticker on the side scrambled, so that when you run a transaction all that can be seen in real time is a bunch of Asterisks. Warning bells go off in my head, but I need the job.Fast forward six weeks, after I had trained a new third shift guy to work part time on my days off, so I could stop working 7 days a week. The store has been having extreme difficulties with it's cigarette count. Somehow, every day, 2 cartons go missing, without fail. Hmmm, 2 cartons. Do we see a pattern here? I know I do.
I come in one evening to work my normal shift, to find my part time third shifter working second shift. Now, he and I have gotten to be pretty good friends by this point (and still are to this day). After we get his shift closed, and mine opened, he sticks around and lets me in on the story.
See, it seems that the Bitch had been fired that afternoon. Company Loss Prevention has been keeping a very close eye on this store after an anonymous tip (Who me? I would never do...oh all right, it was me) about theft. Bill (Not His Real Name) has been moved to second shift to cover the loss of the employee, and I'm back to working 7 day weeks. Now, I love 16 hours of overtime every week, but when am I going to get a chance to spend all that cash?
But wait, oh my darlings, this story is not over yet.
Fast forward another month. Bill has accepted a request from the DM to transfer to another store to run second shift. His last day was yesterday. I arrive at work thinking that I am going to be seeing the manager, because, as of that morning, they had not hired a new second shifter.
Oh, no. Guess again. It's THE BITCH! After she gets checked out she sticks around to tell me the story. The manager had called her that afternoon, and begged her to come back because she didn't want to work a double. The manager had worked up this nice little scam. When she filled out the paperwork for the new hire, she bumped the last number of the Bitch's Social up one number, and told the DM over the phone that she had hired the Bitch's twin sister because we were desperate for help.
(Now, do you see how stupid the Bitch is? She actually told me what the scam was.)
The end-all result : two weeks later the Bitch and the manager both get fired. And then the shitstorm hits. It turns out that the manager and the Bitch had been working together the whole time (who didn't see this coming).
The Bitch would give out two cartons of cigarettes every day, but void the transaction, and then the Bitch and the manager would split the money.
Both of them ended up in jail for theft, and the last I heard before I ran (which is another long story, which you may not believe...) was that the manager was awaiting Federal trial for falsifying Social Security and IRS documents.
--Hell's Security Guard