Towards the end of my sophomore year of high school, when I was 16, I got a job in the video department of the local Kroger's. (For those of you who don't know, Kroger's is a large supermarket chain. I think it's called Ralph's out west. But I digress. It isn't a massive building, like a Meijer's or SuperWal-Mart, but each store is usually pretty big. Okay, now I digress.) I worked at Kroger's for about six months. As I look back at that job and the stuff that I did there, I am at times amused, embarassed, and shocked by the audacity that I displayed as a 16 year old. So without further ado, here is my first installation of The Kroger's Chronicles.
In order to get a job at Kroger's, you had to join the union. I guess this is a good deal for the full-time workers in the deli and bakery and such, but for the mass of adolescents who worked there part-time, it didn't make much sense. But you didn't have a choice, so I filled out all the paperwork and officially became a member of the union.
I never thought that being a union member would benefit me in any way, since I was working part-time and didn't get any benefits or anything, and I was only making a quarter above minimum wage. In fact, union dues were taken out of my first paycheck, leaving me with a take home of $17.24 after two weeks of work. That is, until one day during my third week of work, when I learned the true benefits of being in a union.
It was a busy Saturday afternoon, at least out in the store. Back in the video department, it was a slow day and the three of us who were on the clock were lazily sitting around, watching Billy Madison on the television and taking care of the occasional customer who came in. I was about to go on my break (the union strikes again...I have to take a break from watching movies), when the store's assistant manager, Lisa, came up to me. "Mike, can you do me a favor?", she asked. I was hesitent, but said that I would. "After your break, can you come up and bag groceries for a while? A few of the baggers didn't come in and we are short."
My heart sank. Bagging groceries is by far the shittiest job in a grocery store. When I applied to Kroger's, I told them I would do anything but bag; that's how I landed the plum job in the video department. But this manager caught me off guard and I had no time to think of an excuse or somehow weasel out of it. I went up to the breakroom and sulked.
Towards the end of my break, one of the guys from the butcher shop, Dan, came in. I had talked to Dan a few times before and he seemed like a good guy. I whined to him about having to go bag, and he told me not to do it. "What do I tell Lisa?", I asked. "Nothing. It's in your union contract. Bagger's sign a different kind of contract. Read it if you don't believe me." I really wanted to believe him, but this was the sort of thing that I had to see for myself. I remember throwing my union contract on the floor of my car after my first day of work, and it was still there when I went out to look for it. I took the contract to Dan and asked him where it said that. He turned right to it and, lo and behold, Dan was right.
Apparently, I was under a "Non-Foods Contract". This meant that all I was allowed to do was work in the video department, one-hour photo, cosmetics, and stock non-food items such as bathroom items. In fact, it explicitly said I was not allowed to handle food. I asked Dan what I should do. "Go back to video", he said. "If Lisa comes back and has a problem, tell her to talk to the foreman."
I happily went back to the video department and resumed watching movies. About 45 minutes later, an angry Lisa came back and told me to get up front and start bagging. "Actually, I read my contract while on break, and found out that I'm not allowed to bag...Sorry, nothing I can do about it." Lisa looked at me in a disbelieving rage for a few seconds, when, emboldened by my new found sense of job security via the union, I added the kicker. "If you got a problem, take it up with the foreman." Lisa looked absolutely furious. I was doing my best not to laugh. She stared me down for what seemed like 30 seconds, turned, and left without saying a word.
That would be the first of many, many incidents that peppered my employment record at Kroger's.
