My First Day

Early Monday morning I started work. And I'm talking early, like eight in the morning, I just rolled out of bed "Is the president still black?" early. The early only high school students would now as they walk back into their house from a night of partying. I took my shower, steaming hot because I read somewhere that the steam exfoliates the skin, dressed, in my black collared shirt and matching black pants and left my house at ten sharp.

I was supposed to start at eleven, I say supposed to because at ten thirty I made a complete fool of myself. I walked into the Macy's Executive Office, the office where the manager's work and shit, looking and feeling like hot shit. I had my hair done, my outfit was on point and I was the new recovery specialist. Or so I thought.

"Recovery specialist?" one of the managers asks.
I nod my head. "That's what I was told?"
"Well, that person lied to you. We don't have recovery specialists," she says.
In my mind I thought, Of course you fucking don't. Just my luck the job I finally got doesn't even exist.
"We have recovery associates."
"That sounds good," I say like I was picking out a couch instead of talking to my new manager.
"Okay come with me," she says as she leads me to the back room that is lined with computers and the classic "YOU CAN DO IT" posters.

"Do you have your papers?" she asks.
"My what?"
"Your papers. The ones you need to start?"
Of fucking course. The bitch that called me told me the wrong fucking job and told me NOTHING about papers.
"I didn't... know... I needed papers."
"Well you can't start without those papers. Wanna head home and grab them real quick?"

On the drive home I wondered who embarrasses themselves twice in the matter of seconds? Twice! I thought this job is already killing me, I mean it took me four weeks to find a black vest under sixty dollars, and I only worked one day.

The rest of the day went by, flew by actually. Whoever said, "Time flies when you're having fun" was wrong. Time flies when you sit and stare at a computer screen for six hours watching training videos. I finished at three forty-three and the woman who led me to the back computer room of hell said, "Okay. Great looks like everything is in order. We'll call you when we get your schedule finalized."
"My schedule?"
"Yes. Your manager is on vacation this week."
"Okay... So I'll just wait for your call?" I ask.
She nods. "Yep."

It's been three days. I still haven't gotten a phone call. I wondered, "Who the fuck gets fired at orientation?"