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The incoming stock never stops piling up. If it can’t be put on the shelves, it just gets stacked in the warehouse.
The veteran aunties always rush to grab the tagging gun and label products. After that, they spend the entire day sitting in a chair tagging merchandise.
The part-timers do all the remaining work.
Most of the employees are middle-aged men or aunties.
A married woman joined the store where I worked at the time; she always wore a ring to work.
She had an ordinary, delicate-looking face and was merely thin.
A group of middle-aged men who were starved for affection surrounded her, chatting with her and doing her work for her, while all the work in the store was dumped on the part-timers.
The store manager didn’t care either; they were always outside smoking and shooting the breeze with the vendors at the neighboring stalls.
The standard obedient employee works themselves to death.