Personal Narrative: Homicide In The Workplace

My alarm clock went off at 7:00 a.m. I didn’t have to be at work for another three hours, but by the time I blow dried my hair straight, found something to wear that actually still fit, made breakfast, and got my two year old ready for preschool; I was walking out the door by 8:30 a.m. This was a daily routine that would buy me enough time to drop off my daughter at school, pick up a cup of coffee, and still have a few minutes to enjoy it while it was hot. I unlocked the front door and rushed towards the back of the boutique to shut off the alarm. All of a sudden I stumbled upon something. “What the hell?” as I looked down “You’ve got to be kidding me!” What I had stumbled over was 2 large boxes full of Tommy Bahama merchandise we had received on Friday. It was now Monday, and I clearly recalled telling Cindy
to put the merchandise on hangers and out on the sales floor. I started getting bothered but I was not surprised since laziness was a significant trait of hers. I went on to continue with my opening procedures. As I am getting ready to open the cash register for the day, an error message pops up on the monitor “Drawer must be balanced and end of day report printed before opening.” At this point, I can feel my body temperature rise and my face get hot as the blood rushed to my head. I am livid! I’ve now wasted an extra fifteen minutes balancing the register and credit card machine and then printing the end of day report which was supposed to be done the night before. As I’m looking at the total sales made, I couldn’t help but notice the grand total for the day was $500. This boutique makes between three thousand and three thousand five hundred dollars on any given Sunday. We are a boutique located right on the pier, where there is foot traffic all day long. Tourists and the wealthy of Saint Simons Island do a lot of shopping here. I opened the drawer to the right side of the register where we keep a day planner with working schedules. “Surprise Surprise” I thought to myself. Cindy was the one scheduled to work on Sunday.
It is now 9:45 a.m., and I walk over to the all-white section on the opposite end of the boutique to open the double doors there and take a couple of clearance racks outside to attract some potential customers. And there it was: the last straw that broke the camel’s back. Leaves, dirt, and a candy wrapper on the floor! “What the hell does this freaking lady do all day?” So here I am, having to do other people’s work. I began to sweep the whole store and refold the clothes on the tables because they were not folded correctly, all while being officially open for the day. At 10:50 a.m. Cindy walks in talking up a storm on her cell phone. “You’re fifty minutes late.” I said to her, disregarding the fact that she was on a phone call. She gave a nonchalant shrug and replied “I woke up late.” “Why didn’t you perform any of the closing procedures Cindy?” I continued. “I didn’t want to leave too late.” She answered back. “Are you serious?” I cried. “You closed last night. It was your responsibility to get these non-negotiables done. This is nothing new Cindy; everyone knows this has to be done every single night at closing!” She responded with a flip of her long dark hair and an eye roll, then disappeared into the break room. Throughout the day, tension was heavy between the two of us. I knew I was in the right telling her what I had said, but it didn’t seem to make a difference to her. I analyzed her as she “worked”, and I kind of figured out why she only sold five hundred dollars the day before. She had no problem approaching customers and making a sale. The issue was that she talked way too much, and would easily talk a customer’s ear off for an hour or so. Meanwhile, other customers would walk in and she would be too busy running her mouth to even acknowledge anyone walking in. I didn’t say another word to her the rest of the day; I just worried about doing my work. Three o’clock rolled around and Cindy left. At first, I thought she went out to lunch, but then 2 hours passed and she never came back. I looked at the schedule and saw that she was scheduled to work until 7 p.m. I finally decided to call Nir, the boutique owner.
Nir looked like your typical Israelite, tall, dark, and handsome. He had that Jewish business mentality, where if you’re not bringing money in, he doesn’t need you. So I knew he would not appreciate Cindy’s behavior. I told him the situation that had unfolded with her. Nir then told me that earlier in the day; the restaurant manager next door called him and told him that around 1:30 a.m. as he was throwing some trash into the dumpster; he saw Cindy inside the boutique’s storage, which is right next to the dumpster. He found it odd to see her inside the storage when the boutique closes at 10 p.m. on Sundays. Nir then said he went over the security footage on the cameras inside the boutique and in the storage room. This was news to me since the employees were told the cameras were nonworking. He then continued to tell me that on the security footage he saw Cindy fill up two large garbage bags with clothes and put them in the trunk of her car which was pulled up in front of the storage. Nir was obviously upset with the betrayal, since the very next day, he fired Cindy and decided to press charges against
her.