The end of the year had fast approached, and the biggest time of the year had finally arrived—festive season, holiday pay, and thirteenth cheques, where customers had no problem spending their money and just wanted to spoil themselves and their families.
The staff of Pick Your Product were hard at work, putting in their best and going all out to make customers happy. The store was clean, shelves were stocked up, and every till was open with cashiers giving big smiles.
It was time to sell ourselves so even we, as staff members, could have something extra in our pockets, even though we spent most of the holiday season at work and hardly saw our family members.
Yet not everyone was really happy with the idea of working through the holiday season. Some just came up with ideas to be at home so they could even spend a little time going out and having family time.
Unfortunately, Mr. Adams made sure that he reminded everyone that there was no escape—it was time to serve our customers.
A nice staff lunch was arranged. Tables were set, and the staff members of Pick Your Product were presented with delicious food and desserts. It was a nice day, no work, everyone was happy, and just enjoyed themselves...
Until Mr. Adams gave his speech.
"Hello, staff members. I just want to thank all of you for the hard work you've put in to save our store. We were at rock bottom, but we made it to the top, so well done to all of you.
But I just need to remind you all that it doesn't stop here. It's the holiday season, and we need to show up for our customers.
I know it's almost Christmas, but we've chosen retail, and it comes with consequences. At least on your one day off, you'll get to see your family, so make the best of it."
Everyone just listened with sad smiles on their faces, but what could we do?
As we all waited for the speech to finally end, Mr. Adams had to ask a terrible question.
"So, does everyone have any questions?"
The room was quiet. Staff members just wanted to enjoy their lunch and go home.
But one person decided, to hell with this.
She was going to ask questions.
Isha got up and raised her hand, gazing Mr. Adams dead in the eye.
"Mr. Adams, I would like to know something."
"Yes, Isha. Ask away."
"Why can't we get at least two days off? It's not fair to get only one day."
Mr. Adams responded.
"It's the holiday season, Isha. Customers shop mostly now more than any other time of the year, so we need all staff members to be present for our customers. When January comes, you'll get three days off."
Isha, not being satisfied, just popped up with another question.
"Mr. Adams, so if you end up getting sick, or a family member gets sick, and you take off... are we going to get paid?"
Mr. Adams now gave Isha a stern look.
"No one is allowed to get sick during the holiday season, Isha. And if a family member gets sick, tell them your retail worker salary means someone else in the family needs to take care of them."
The tension in the room started rising.
Everyone could see where this was going.
This whole situation was turning into an argument.
Isha was now challenging Mr. Adams.
We all just wanted it to stop because it ruined the staff lunch.
But Isha was not about to stop until she got her way.
"So, Mr. Adams, you're telling me if my mother gets sick, I can't stay home and look after her because of the holiday season?"
He responded sternly.
"If you want to sit at home and look after your mother, Isha, by all means, do so.
But I think you'd rather pay her hospital bill, as you know everything costs money.
And how will you do that when you're jobless?
If you're not happy, Isha... there's the door.
I'm not forcing you to be here."
Isha's voice now started changing.
Tears started flowing from her eyes, yet she refused to stop.
The staff members' attention now turned away from Mr. Adams and onto Isha.
One by one—from Jess, to Lance, to Gammie—even the cleaner who was removing the plates started saying:
"Don't do it, Isha."
Each and every one.
"Isha, stop. Don't do it."
"Isha, don't do it."
We all feared that she may end up uttering the words:
"I resign."
And before she could utter another question, I got up, grabbed her hand, and we left the staff lunch.
She never touched her plate of food.
She was in tears.
I turned and asked:
"Isha, why? What's wrong?"
With tears in her eyes, she responded:
"I never get to spend time with my family. I spend most of my time at work. Why can't we get two days off?"
She cried.
I said:
"Isha, I feel you, but we signed up for this. We're retail workers. You signed that contract.
Please don't walk out of your job.
Find something outside of retail, then walk away.
Who's going to take care of your mother when you're jobless?
I know it's not fair, but it's life, my friend.
We need to carry on."
Isha, not being very happy, just said:
"You're turning into Mr. Adams.
You'll never understand."
And just like that...
She left.
The next day, I looked out for her.
I thought she wasn't coming back.
But there she was.
She came in, greeted Mr. Adams, and went on with her day as if nothing happened.
(The End of Chapter 9)