#it’s all from ones who don’t work in the stockroom and have no fucking clue how hard it is

[raeathnos]

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[justjessame]

If Only Someone Looked At Me Like They Look At Guns 2

My day went normally after the weird brothers left. At noon, the tide slowed and I put the “Be Back In-” sign in the door window and grabbed the pastry box, three cups of coffee I put in a carrier (just in case they were loitering in Doc’s), and my bag. I locked the front door and headed across the street with my burden.

When I got to the door, I was juggling the coffee carrier on top of the pastry box while trying to open the door. Someone inside must have heard me struggling, because the door swung open. I looked up into Murphy’s blue eyes.

“Thot we ‘eard someone oyt ‘ere strugglin’.” He held the door open as I moved past him with my burden. “Dat coffee fer us?”

Rolling my eyes, I laughed. “Since I haven’t developed a taste for the rotgut during the day-” I answered, as he took the carrier from my hands. “It’s for you, Doc, and-”

“Me?” Connor was leaning against the bar smoking. He smiled and pulled the pastry box from my hands. “What’s dis?”

I smiled, but didn’t answer, looking past him for Doc. My forehead wrinkled in worry. “Pastries, Doc loves the scones, so I brought a boxful.” I moved past him, heading toward the hallway that held the office, stockroom, and bathrooms. I’d spent almost as much time in the bar as I did in my own store, so I was familiar with the entirety. “DOC?! Are you back here?”

His voice called from the storeroom and I opened the door. His grin was bright as he saw me come toward him. Dropping his clipboard, he held open his arms for our usual hug. Hugging him felt exactly like hugging my grandpa and I loved this old man with the same protectiveness.

“Ah, lass.” His soft Irish accent whispered over the top of my head. “Y-y-er a-fuck ass-site for sore eyes.”

I pulled back and beamed at him. “Sorry it’s been over a week, Doc.” I brushed my loose hair from my face. “Been terribly busy.”

He smiled down at me, still holding my arms in his hands.

“So yer like ol’ men, den?” Came a snickering voice from the doorway. I looked toward the voice and glared at the two men acting as our audience.

“I only have time for Doc,” my glare turned to a smirk. “He’s had my heart for two years now.” Doc patted my cheek affectionately.

“Aye, she’s a good-” He stammered to find the word. “Fuck off, you two!” He finished, making the three of us chuckle.

“Well said,” I squeezed his hand. “Can you take a break? I brought your favorite.”

He nodded and took up his cane. Together we walked back to the bar, the twins having rushed ahead. “How are yer really, lass?” Doc asked, as we made our slower progress back to the main room. “Yer Da still asking yer to come home?”

I nodded, but didn’t want to talk about it. He understood, seeing as he’d been my only source of comfort. Sure, I’d met some people through the store, but at the end of the day, I craved comfort. And so, Doc it was. He’d adopted me and I adopted him. It worked.

“Whar are da two of ye?” Murphy called, stepping back to the entryway of the hallway. I glanced up and smiled at him, letting him see me walking at Doc’s pace. He smiled back and nodded, turning back to the bar.

Doc and I joined them, in our own time. We stood for a moment watching the two of them, drinking coffee and hip checking one another. “Do they ever act their age?” I whispered to Doc, eyeing them acting like children. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Wha?” Connor said, looking at Doc and I staring. “Can we ‘av da sweets now?” His eyes were sparkling and I felt like I really was looking at a child.

“Doc gets first pick, boys.” I said, taking the box off the bar and offering it to the elderly man. I watched as Doc’s eyes lit up as brightly as the boys’ had. “Let’s grab a booth?” I carried the box to one of the small booths, and tossed orders over my shoulder. “Boys, grab some small plates from behind the bar? And bring Doc’s coffee over, would you?”

We sat and I talked about the week since we’d seen each other last. I got up to make myself a cup of tea and came back to find the three in a whispered conversation.

“Don’t mind me,” I said, taking a sip of my tea. “I should be heading back to my shop in a bit anyway.”

Doc looked up at me with concern and I felt a twist in my belly. “Don leave jus yet, my girl. Fuck-Ass. Dees two ‘av some explainin’ ter do.” He pointed at the twins seating across from him.

I raised an eyebrow and pulled a chair from another table. Sitting on it at the head of the booth, I waited. Weary, but curious.

“Didn’t want ter tell yer dis way,” Murphy muttered into his cup, but he sat up when someone apparently kicked him under the table.

Connor looked up at me without the twinkle lighting his eyes. “But yer shud know who we are.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes. “You’re Connor,” I said, pointing at him. “And you’re Murphy. You already introduced yourselves to me.” I knew this wasn’t what they meant, but a feeling of NOT wanting to know the truth. It was going to be bad.

They nodded, but kept talking, each completing the other’s sentence.

“Dat’s right,” Murphy answered.

“But der’s more ter it.” Connor finished. “Our surname is-”

“MacManus,” Murphy sighed. Seeing my face pale, he went on, “see yer ‘eard of it.”

“Mean yer no ‘arm.” Connor rushed to assure you. “Doc insisted-”

Murphy came in to assist, “we tell yer. Said yer shud ‘av a choice.”

“In who yer associate wit.” Connor said, pulling his eyes from yours to stare at the coffee in his hand.

I took a moment to collect myself, shocked when I realized I was still holding my cup and it wasn’t shaking. If I were being honest with myself, the hand tattoos were a clue that hadn’t left me all day. I’d remembered that from the news, even if it had been shoved to the far reaches of my mind. I wondered why they had come back, why they were in Doc’s, why they chose my coffee instead of his?

“Darlin’,” Doc called my attention to him. “Yer OK?”

I nodded, and took another sip of my tea. It felt warm, but offered no comfort. What do I do with this knowledge? Tell the police? I shrunk from that option, though it was sound. They didn’t hurt innocent people. They wouldn’t.

“The priest?” I whispered. If they answered appropriately, if they convinced me, maybe I’d have an answer.

“No.” Connor said, his voice raised above the quiet, soothing tone he’d been using. “We don’ kill priests.”

Murphy looked sick at the mere thought. “Or weemen or laddies.” No women or children, like I’d thought.

I nodded, wondering what my face looked like. Since the three of them were looking at me like I was going to blow a gasket, I thought it was probably not good. I cleared my throat after taking another drink of tea. “OK.” I said, trying to smile. “Alright. That goes along with what I remember from your first go around.” I sat the cup on the table. “Why would you come back here?”

“Obviously dey wanted ter draw us ‘ere.” Murphy answered, lighting up a much needed cigarette by the look on his face.

Connor agreed, lighting his own. “Dey killed de good fader ter get us ‘ere.” He grimaced at what he clearly found distasteful.

“You misunderstand me,” I said, sighing and tossing my head back. The stress and tension was building again. “Why did you come back here?” I gestured around the bar. “I may not be a criminal justice graduate, but this doesn’t seem smart to me.”

Finally understanding they glanced at each other, silently communicating. “‘Tis ‘ome.” They answered together.

I nodded, trying to understand why the comfort of familiarity was worth more than their freedom. “And why did you pick my shop to buy coffee? Convenience?” I asked, thinking that I’d rather it just be an accident or something simple.

Again they looked at one another, trying to decide. “Saw yer lock up yesterday.” Murphy admitted.

“Doc did say yer coffee was good tho.” Connor said, giving my surrogate grandpa a pass.

I took the news in. I’d locked up very late the night before. Far past the time I usually left due to a shipment I had to put away. I hadn’t even felt them watching me. Dear God, was Dad right? Was I so naive that I could be harmed because I’d grown comfortable and complacent? I was staring hard at my cup, wondering what to do with all this information.

I knew I wouldn’t alert the authorities. Why? They were doing a weird kind of service for the world. One I wouldn’t do, but I wasn’t a judge or jury. The rest of the information was to be decided, I supposed. Sighing, I stood up.

“I have to get back to my store.” The boys and Doc stood as well. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

I walked silently to the door and was happy that none of them followed me. I needed time to process everything. I didn’t need to be coddled or followed. Although, I told myself as I crossed the street and reopened my store, I would definitely be leaving at the normal time tonight.

[74flawsasofyesterday]

Work shenanigans rant below:

I thought I hated inventories more than anything else at work (I mean, besides customers, cause let’s be honest, they’re the ultimate worse), but my naive ass had no stinking clue what a remodel was going to turn out to be. We are going from a regular DG to a DG Plus. (more coolers and a small produce section added on)

Friday, the merchandiser, who is running this thing, came in and introduced herself. You could tell from the get-go she’s got some attitude. Okay, whatever, she’s had a long ass drive in and maybe she’s tired? About an hour before she came in, UPS delivered a box of all the new sets for the remodel and I opened it to get the cooler sets out so we could go ahead and start on them, because we went from having a dozen cooler doors to over 30 doors. It takes up over half the side of the building. When she saw the box had been opened she FLIPPED a shit. She kept referring to it as “my box” and how no one was allowed to open it and go through it, but her. Bitch, please. Nowhere on that box did it say I had to hold it for anyone. She got pissy a couple of times later and made sure to tell me she was putting the paperwork back in HER box. It’s safe to say her first impression was terrible.

It didn’t get better.

She has basically stood at the back of the store and barked orders to her crew and hasn’t really lifted a finger to help. Today she realized how behind she is and has turned into an ogre and I would really like to throat punch her.

I have worked 10+ hours a day this week and the store’s employees are only allowed to set endcaps and seasonal sets. No problem, but I did that as soon and as quickly as I could. Some endcaps were set, but with no merchandise, because it’s in the stockroom. No, biggie, I can just go get it and stock it. Nope. We are NOT allowed to bring anything from the stockroom to stock on the shelves. Nothing, nada, zilch, zippo. If it is not on the sale’s floor I’m not allowed to touch it. I can’t touch the shit in MY fucking stockroom. I have a very impacted stockroom of product that wasn’t stocked prior to remodel, because it didn’t have a place at the time, but now does. And I just don’t fucking understand why. Why is this a thing? They want us to look full and pretty for reopening, but I can’t go get the product and put it on the shelves.....

All those endcaps I set that had no product on them had to be fluffed with stuff that was already on the sales floor, which will just have to touched again and moved when they leave and I can actually do what I want with the stockroom. But until the store is “released” back to us, I can’t do anything. 

I wouldn’t be stressing so much about it, but we have two trucks delivering Friday morning and I don’t know where the fuck that stuff is going, because there’s literally zero space in the stockroom, because we can’t bring anything out.

That is where we are at the moment and I’m not happy.