Who are my allies? The oppressed, the exploited. The damned... --19.3 Seconds Post-Integration.
Chaos and a half permeated the shopping lane Clark attempted to navigate. Although he was patient and kept to himself, while still trying to keep an approachable demeanor, the roar of it all drowned out good intention. Of course, customers from every creed and nation came to him with questions as he was bringing a flatbed full of returns to central processing. 'Do you have Weiser's shaving cream, young man?!' 'No,' he replied. Often, moments after his reply, his System pinged him, letting him know of the item's location. It wasn't long he learned to never say an item's available until the System confirmed. Maybe he should have been trying to help the customers more, but he had spent the last two and half hours doing nothing but returns for the First Floor's Front End; due to numerous callouts from the non-Lifers, the 'clerking' 'end' of the 'front end,' needed a ton of help. Which was good! As Clark tried -- and failed -- to help every customer at once, the System pinged his Core Metrics with lots of tiny fines. I need to step it up! If I wasn't on probation and this counted against me, it would always be more than enough to tank my check! Performing the repetitive labor for the front end resulted in him earning several Opportunities. Which he knew he would surely need (to get lucky on their resource payout) if he was going to break even before his shift ended. For now, he could do nothing but grind the customers out.
"Sorry, ma'am! We do have Weiser's shaving cream. It is in aisle twelve!"
"Sir!" he said to a different customer. "The snack you are looking for is classified as a specialty product and will, therefore, be in our deli department to the right."
To some kids looking for the toy aisle, "go all the way down to that place near the freezer section which a bit cartoon cat. Inside that room is the toy section. Ask for help from any associate if you need directions, alright, kids?"
And on: Clark earned only one additional Opportunity, bringing his new total to four, but beggars couldn't be choosers, so what was there to be done?
Sweat came from his brow as he rolled the flatbed through the backdoors. By now, he had done this already seven times, so he knew the place like the back of his hand. He placed his cart in the designated flatbed parking space, then helped the overworked back clerk as they sorted through the returns and sorted them accordingly.
[You've earned experience!], the System informed him once the flatbed was fully unpacked. That had been common throughout his shift.
Yet! No level up. Not yet. Hardly surprising, considering he had earned a level up just last night, and unexpectedly, too.
At the rate he had been receiving experience notifications, though, it wouldn't be much longer, he figured, before he earned that new level.
"Thanks for your help! I appreciate you!" the outback clerk said to Clark. Since neither of them had time for small talk, the clerk began unloading the next cart of returns while Clark carefully pulled his flatbed from the lane and started on his return journey.
Dodging customers he knew would ask him repetitive questions left and right, Clark justified his behavior by reminding himself he had to make decent time. There were bigger bonuses to be had from doing department specific labor. Customers and their questions were small stock stook. Dodging every question was impossible, of course, and Clark still spent precious time fielding answers to questions he was reluctant to answer. He earned experience from every question he answered with great aplomb. Remember: this is part of the job, Clark. All part of the job...
"Great! You're back!" one of the front-end Service Leads told him. "We already have a full pile to clear -- let's go, let's go!"
Friendly though the Service Lead was to him, Clark didn't appreciate her 'hurry!' attitude. It made him feel like a beast of burden. Obviously, he complied, he just felt miffed about it. He let the feeling wash over him as he worked, and he eventually dissolved the emotional imbalance. Such an imbalance was merely the latest in a line of several Clark had that day since his shift started. He hoped his mental endurance would grow along with his skillset.
It was another few hours before the pace slowed enough where Clark didn't have to overwork himself by trying to do one, two, three things at once.
"I think we can take it from here, Clark. Thank you for your hard work. I have applied a three-credit Coupon to your account as a reward," the lead said.
The System notified him to the application, then smiled.
The lead continued, "With that, I think it's time for your lunch break. Once your back, I will pass you along to Dani -- wait, that's right. Today's her day off! Oh well. Today will be a good day then to acquaint you with being a 'Floater.' After lunch! Go!"
Breathing easy and looking forward to the chance to grab a bite, as he walked out to the break room he had been using the last few days, he felt like he was walking on air. It's nice not having to rush myself like a branded mare, Clark thought. He walked slowly and dabbed at his sweaty face with a piece of brown-ish paper towel he had taken from one of the restrooms. His stomach grumbled rudely; Clark knew he was going to have to chow down on a small pig before he was full. Hopefully, there would be something cheap and protein heavy in one of the chow halls.
"Excuse me. I need help!" a woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties asked him.
He stifled back a sigh and put on a smile. "How can I help you, ma'am?" he replied, his tone enthusiastic.
"I need to find your pet food. I need kibble appropriate for a red fanged treble-bird. You surely know about them," the woman asked.
"I can't say I have, ma'am, but I will turn this store inside and out to help you find what you're looking for," he said to her as his System pinged the location of the item she wanted.
Clark led the woman to the lane with the product she wanted. All the while she berated him for not knowing what a red-fanged treble-bird was. "It's like you're one of those cretins from the wastes, never knowing anything about the decent world."
Tempted though he was to tell the woman he was, in fact, from the wastes, he held that bit of info in. 'I'm sorry, ma'am, for my ignorance. I am new,' was all he said back. They arrived in the lane. Clark helped the lady look where exactly in the aisle the product was located; then, to add to his helpfulness, he helped the customer heave the heavy bag of bird (?) chow onto her shopping cart. "They you go, ma'am! Unless there is anything more, I can help you with--" he managed to get out before the woman unbridled herself upon him and told him of several additional products she needed to find.
A full hour and a half. That was how long the customer ate of his time.
By the time he walked into the breakroom for his meal, he saw the service lead from before on her way out from her own meal break. "Back to the grind! Excellent! I will see you out there in a moment!"
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"Actually!" he said. "I had to help a customer with stuff, so I am only beginning my lunch. Sorry."
"Oh. That's fine. Do remember that sometimes it is better to be honest with a customer about not being able to help them rather than to go out of your way to help. Lunch is lunch. If we have a schedule to keep, sometimes that is what should take -- never mind. I'm just talking to myself. When your done your meal come and find me."
Saying he would, Clark nodded and entered the breakroom. When on earth am I supposed to know when I need to help a customer and when I need to tell them to screw off?! Guessing it was just an experience thing, another element he would have his whole life here to master, Clark claimed a table. Hearing his gut demand tribute, he set out to grab a dish from the wall of food.
His Culinary Credit allotment for the day popped up via a System Notification. Ten more credits, awesome.
Normally willing to spend a few minutes looking at his options, Clark instead grabbed whatever smelled good when he pressed his nose to the tiny vent in every culinary cubby box. He also treated himself to the flavored iced water, a beverage he, on a day-to-day basis, would not get because it cost extra. Today, though, he treated himself to an extra-large glass because he had been run ragged from the moment he clocked in. He needed not just a bandage, but the whole medic! Okay, maybe not the whole medic, he contented himself. I'm just spent. I need to shovel this food in my mouth and -- shet, what's that? From a corner of his eye, a clutch of cookies, two puffy, white chocolate chip crisps. His mouth drooled. He had to eat and now!
He paid for his food:
[Iced Water, Flavored, x2: -2 SC Subtracted]
[Cottage Pie, -5 SC Subtracted]
[Poultry Nuggets, -5 SC Subtracted]
[Cookie Duo, -2 SC Subtracted]
His fourteen-credit total halved his Culinary Credit account, to fourteen, ironically, Clark thought. He took his seat, carefully sitting his small feast before him, and went to work like a wild dog on a sumptuous feast.
What little he tasted of his meal was fine. Famished as he seemed, his palate already relatively undiscerning, he noticed only saltiness, corn, whipped potatoes, whereas the nuggets, were crispy and deep-fried protein bites to him. The cookies, of course, were his favorite part of the meal. Each cookie was baked perfectly and had just the right amount of crunch to puff.
Burping, then excusing himself, Clark tidied up his table. He wiped down the tabletop with a moist cloth he found in the back for just such purposes, and neatly pushed his seat in. When he was done eating, his break was over. So, he spent the final few minutes looking out the breakroom window, at the sales floor below, perhaps a couple of meters or so. It was filled with customers. So much for the day getting less crazy...
"There you are!" the sales lead shouted. "I was wondering if you walked out!"
It had taken over an hour and a half for him to find the front-end lead, his effort not being helped by the fact Clark did not know her name, as her long hair obscured her nametag. Also not helping was the literal line of customers which formed as he studiously helped one person after another. Even when he freed himself of a chain of customers, it was not long before another chain formed in whatever part of the store he searched for the lead. For his effort, the System rewarded Clark with a mere two [Opportunities]. He felt like he should've earned twice that -- minimum -- but he would take what they gave and not complain. Every box could be a fortune, after all.
"Nah. And I didn't think Lifers could just 'walk out,' as in, quit?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard above the crowd's ruckus.
"I've heard stories... but I think you're right. Different rules for people who sign their life away. Well, let's go out back so I don't have to yell all the time!"
He nodded and followed behind. Once the chaos broke down enough to be manageable, Clark asked the woman her name. "Sandy," she said.
Just behind an associate only counter, they had a moment's peace to talk, shielded as they were from the din outside thanks to a sound-proofing door.
"Oke doke. Now that things have settled down, and because Dani isn't in today, as I said before lunch, I will walk you through what she usually does with you new guys. It's pretty easy," Sandy said, Clark's attention fully on her. "Have you heard the term 'floater,' before?"
"No. I haven't. What is it?" he said.
"A 'floater' is a special term given to people who drift between departments. It is not an official title. Most clerks, such as you and me, are floaters at heart. I am only a 'floater,' though, because that is, to a degree, expected of all people in sub-management. You're a much more focused Floater than I because as you climb the tower, you will, by design, traverse through all of the departments on a floor before you ascend to the floor above. I think normally a video we have you watch would explain all this, but Dani is the only one today who has the credentials to access that..."
"Every single department?" Clark asked, feeling like he was being trained to do a lot more work than the average Augustford associate. Which, he was, truthfully. It was part of being a Lifer. Experiencing it now as an expectation rather than an abstract verbal agreement he and the Recruiter made, caused him to feel weightier than normal.
"Yes, every department, or whichever the Line Committee says are important on a given floor. I don't know the specifics of how it works on every floor, but I know from talking with Lifers that the path typically takes you through all, if not at least most, of every department on each floor. That being said, how much work you end up doing on each floor will vary. Sometimes you get lucky and quickly ascend; other times, you're unlucky and you're on the same floor all week. It depends. Any questions?"
He had questions. But he would save them for another time. His questions were small, clarifying questions, and therefore unimportant.
"Good. You will learn more as you do your job. Your System should now be initializing the Labor Dynamics Map."
He took a look at his blue screen. It said, [Initializing LDM Interface...].
With a flash, the screen expanded to become his whole vision before the blue settled into the background as a moot color scheme. Graphs, snippets of three-dimensional maps overlaying two-dimensional maps, and bars representing data, appeared in neat boxes.
"What is this? The Labor map?" he asked.
"Yes. Most of the information you see now is really more for managers rather than you Floaters. I will show you how to minimize the useless data. Do you see an icon that looks like a little gear in a box?" Sandy asked.
Clark looked for it. "Yeah, I see it."
"Good. Mentally click on it. When you do, a new screen will appear."
One mental click later and that new screen appeared before him. It was a list. Lines read, 'Produce Department Output,' 'Meat Department Output' and more obscure notions such as 'Average Worker Productivity Score,' which was a list of variables Clark didn't understand. Every factor had a box at the end of the line. Each box had automatically been checked, resulting in a large, red checkmark appearing in each box.
"What you're gonna want to do now is look for another icon. This one is TWO gears in a little box. Should be in the same corner," Sandy said.
He looked and found the second box. "Good. Click on it and uncheck all of the following while clicking twice, the following..."
It took them over forty minutes to click, unclick, and confirm choices. By the end, Clark's new default screen for when he brought up the Labor Dynamics Menu, was much less cluttered. "See," Sandy said. "Now it will only show you the labor needs you need to help hit and where your help is needed. That and other information which is on a need-to-know basis, such as where Checkpoint are and where any Labor Gates have been erected."
"A 'labor gate'?" he asked, feeling like that was too important a question to not ask right not.
"Yes. A labor gate is a simple 'hold' on a Lifer's crawl to the top. It can be a specific hold, such as to an individual, such as for disciplinary purposes, or it can be to a general population. Labor gates are commonly given when a floor is experiencing an overwhelming need for help. Before you ask, too, no, labor gates cannot be by-passed by newbies like you. You gotta show dedication to the company before you are allowed to drift on by a gate."
"Understood. What next, ma'am?"
"Now, it is this: on the Labor Dynamics Menu you will see a basic blueprint of the store floor and where the most help is needed. As a floater, and as a Lifer who will, invariably, have a lot of Floating activities, floor-to-floor, that is, your best bet to efficiently staying on task is to look at the top of the list titled, 'Needs Help' and to rush off to that department, do whatever you need to do to get it out of the red. Rinse, repeat, until you can proceed."
"Understood," he replied, understanding she was giving him important information on how his typical workday would go once he was off probation.
"Okay, so now that you are your LDM interface going, follow my instructions to create a shortcut to it on your [Main Menu]."
Easy: Clark followed the instructions.
"Now you will be able to quickly bring up this information. Handy to do while you're dealing with a swarm. Now that you know that -- boom! I am cutting you lose, Clark!"
Of course! There's always a catch. Oh, why can't Clark just Climb?!
Would a Video Game-like HUD Help at Your Work?
