Expelled from the Halls of Commerce

It is a melancholy fact that some folks have no appreciation for industry. I discovered this firsthand when I was ejected unceremoniously from our local Walmart for nothing more than an honest day’s labor.

I had finished my transaction at the self-checkout—a marvel of modern enterprise where the customer is both patron and employee, cashier and consumer. Having performed my duties diligently, scanning each item with a dedication that would shame many a salaried clerk, I naturally proceeded to the breakroom to rest my weary bones.

No sooner had I settled in than some officious sort stormed in, bristling with authority.

“What are you doing in the breakroom?” they inquired, the tone of their voice suggesting I had committed some great offense.

“I’m taking my break,” I replied, wiping my brow in a manner befitting a working man.

“But you don’t work here,” they said, eyes wide with ignorance.

I sighed, heavy with the burden of explanation. “I must,” I said. “Because I just got done at the self-checkout.”

You would think they’d have thanked me for my service. Instead, they led me to the door without severance or a handshake, not even a gold watch for my troubles—just a stern warning not to return. In this great land of opportunity, I learned that some jobs are voluntary, but breaks are not.