You just started your new job at your favorite supermarket...
[[And...]]It's the Monday of your second week as a night stocker. How do you want to spend the afternoon before work?
~[[Ooh, I'll have a few brews while I compose my thoughts.]]
~[[I've decided to take a shower and have a solid lunch!]]
~[[My plan is to sleep until they say I can't anymore... ]]
~[[I'm going to research the latest stocking techniques on my favorite forum, and then join a conference call with the local Stocker's Union, #943!]]
~[[Do I have to pick something? What if I absolutely refuse?? :v]]That sounds like a solid plan there, you practical person, you!
As you confidently stride in from the parking lot you already begin hearing co-workers and customers alike engaging in muffled conversations that seem to involve your, "Practical but still casual walk, impressive smile, and nice smell."
With these hushed tones soothing your ears, you clock in...
[[WHEN!!!]]Your alarm clock said, "Get up," but you said, "Nah."
Your phone said, "Call from an unknown caller," but you didn't answer because you were asleep.
Your robot cleaning assistant, a Model 7C, made sure to keep the place tidy in case you ever woke up.
But, [[you didn't want to->so long for stockers]].Ooh, nice strat! Trying to learn the best ways of stocking, the hidden techniques and traditions of this legendary craft is wise of thee!
And, look at the time, the Hourly Stocker Conference Call [[is coming up soon]]!!I will have more to say later, but as of right now all I can summon is the following response...
"[[Why'd you bother->so long for stockers]]?"Okay, sounds good to me, as well. A little afternoon drinking never caused any havoc in the life of a stocker, right?
By the way, what is your alcohol tolerance like?
~[[If I drink one sip, RIP!]]
~[[I drink a few twelve packs per day. I even have a few under the table here... ]]Your supervisor notifies you that you are fired for not stocking at least 10,000 boxes of items per night. He notes that you, like every other employee of this particular supermarket, has shown a similar level of laziness and inaction and that a robotic crew will serve his needs better!
"Less breaks, less insurance payments... " He begins to explain, then he trails off and looks around the room.
(*More like, "No breaks and no insurance payments and no family leave and no holidays - among other losses," you think to yourself in an instant.*)
"And, more money for the person who matters," [[He reminds you]].Okay, well, *knowing this* I am a slight bit surprised that you decided to go on an afternoon drinking spree...
However, you very responsibly decided to walk to work instead of drive after this. It's nice that you live close to work, right? Might as well just walk there now!
On the way someone you're fond of complimented the precice hue of your eyes, saying that there were no finer ones in town! You smiled a little, flashed them a knowing look, and kept walking along. If you hadn't been drinking you might have gotten all flustered as per usual!
You arrive in the supermarket parking lot, and proceed to...
...[[PUKE!!!]]Oh, that's quite a tolerance level! The author of this device can't come close to reaching that standard! (How long did that take you?)
Thus, it was, that you, our stocker - the hero of this tale - spent the afternoon moseying from twelve pack to twelve pack - sampling IPAs both domestic & foreign - sipping quickly - and slowly - without even feeling a bit tipsy.
Based on your tolerance level, you may have been able to drive to work without seeming to be a drunk driver, but as I hid your keys beforehand you're out of luck on that front. That's right - you're walking, too!)
*[Note: It's important to say that I don't recommend drunk driving. Be as safe as you possibly can when travelling & that includes not putting yourself or others in harmful situations after having too much to drink. Know your limits and don't push yourself to drive back home even if you think you could. Please, get a ride home! It could save your life or someone else's!)*
[[Anyway, on with the story...!]]You're surprised to find, as you wipe your face with your hands - that a flying robot, labelled "*I am Fantastic Employee No. 74*," attends to the vomit which had spilled onto unwet earth from your mouth. The machine carefully vacuums up the stuff in a jiffy, reaches for a biodegradable bag from the capsule on its back, vomits the vomit within, hovers over to the nearby trash dump, and places the bundle neatly within.
Scooting through the air to you, and turning now, the robot reveals a ladder that was concealed within its torso-like portion - and extends it down to your level!
"Grab on, ...plx," [[the robot says]].You arrive at work without as much as touching a rock as you walked through numerous fields of long grasses.
And, you're about to clock in...
[[BUT!!!]]"Don't let me remind you again," he screams at you.
"Don't let me remind you again," he repeats - shaking with rage.
"Don't let me [[re-]]"And, you do!
The robot ferries you all the way to the time clock, *somehow...*
Along the way, you saw many employees you recall speaking with in the recent past walking through solid objects - "*Into... total... oblivion... Stuck for good... ...them... All gone, but us... ...And ...HIM!,*" your robot guide adds, along with numerous *whirrs* and *creaks*.
When you come to the time clock itself you see that it has been transformed into a giant chair, in which HE WHO CONTROLS THE SUPERMARKET, FOR GOOD sits. At least, that's what the plaque reads that your seeming robotic buddy is now gluing to the time-chair.
"Good day... " starts THE MAN IN THE CHAIR, "...Why are you still here? You're unhired. Goodbye?"
It is in that moment that you are...
...[[UNMADE]].You are unable to. You always get an error. Error 0, somehow. That's a new one[[...!]]Double-click this passage to edit it.YES, it is at THIS MOMENT THAT YOU...
...BREAK DOWN - INTO MANY *METAL* PIECES...
..."WAS I... ALWAYS LIKE THIS," YOU WONDER...
BUT THAT ANSWER WILL NEVER BE KNOWN...
NOR WILL YOU...
[[EVER AGAIN->so long for stockers]]...It's now the end of your first week as a night stocker...
So, you have a bunch of fun with the time you've got.
But, the weekend only lasts [[so long for stockers]]..."There will be nothing to remind anyone of you anymore.
Everything that you have been, are, and could be is over.
Thank you for stocking the shelves - it's just a pity it had to come to this..."
[[+]]Your entire existence flashes before your eyes in less than a second, and then everything fades to black[[-]]Double-click this passage to edit it.You are an atom. You're trying to be the best atom you can be[[!->so long for stockers]]You talked and you talked, all through the day - all through the night.
So many insights on stocking were gained and dispensed, in turn. The power level and wisdom quotient of The Union - both of these are certainly well-maintained!
As you brush your teeth that night you recited into the mirror, repeating from earlier in the day, "...So, if we have an array of Coarse Cow-brand milk bottles and cans, obviously both of these need to be stocked in a particular way measuring four meters by one meter..."
...[[And then you spit]].When you spit, you notice that you are actually now trapped within the walls of your favorite website.
You may be able to go back, but you can't progress from here!
At least you can read the forums all you want?You notice that the time clock is gone.
You notice that the paraphernalia lining the surfaces of the office within the supermarket is gone.
You notice that the entire office is gone.
You notice tall grasses for a moment, surrounding you, but now those are gone.
You notice that you are floating harmlessly in a white void, and that you will not be rescued.
You notice that the numerous mistakes you made as an employee of one week will never be forgiven.
You notice that you [[are...]]"Who are you," a voice asks, surrounded by statues resembling those in their last moments.
A finger points to a sign on the wall that says, "[[Those Who Did a Job Poorly are Displayed Here->so long for stockers]]."