For one thing, I heard that TURK is being groomed for a team lead position. The person who told me this (DUDE) was unable to find words to explain how he felt about that. I borrowed hyperbole:
"You'd have to invent a whole new language," I told him, "and then use all the words in it, to describe how wrong that is."
"Exactly," he said.
This evening, then, DUDE and I were working in the stockroom, when a call came over DUDE's walkie-talkie. It was SAND, one of the higher-ups.
"...someone's got to come up to Music and Movies to help TURK tape boxes."
DUDE and I traded a look which said everything that needed to be said; and I started laughing.
"What a surprise! TURK needs even more help! What the fuck," DUDE said.
Even better, however, a few minutes later there was a brief exchange over the walkies between TURK and SAND, and SAND said, "TURK, you do not tell me what to do." It sounded irritated, too.
I mentally jumped into the air, pumped my fists, and said, YEAH!
TURK is getting too big for his britches. He back-sasses his bosses too much. Last night when I was working Receiving and I heard that, I thought, Damn, he's really asking for it! I was surprised that SAND didn't come down on him then. The fact that he did not, I chalked up to SAND being rather easy-going and having a sense of humor; it could easily have been some kind of camaraderie that only looked like back-sassing.
TURK tries too hard to be top dog, and it frequently makes him look foolish. For example, this evening, when SAND was leading a team meeting and discussing a "Hispanic Heritage Month" drawing that the company is doing, TURK interjected some moronic question about a "letter" that had been read "a month ago" regarding diversity etc etc. To be honest, I am not entirely sure what prompted him to ask the question, since the question about the company's policy regarding diversity had nothing whatsoever to do with the drawing for a trip to a concert in Miami.
In September, the City of Chicago was mulling an ordinance which would require large retailers (such as my employer) to pay a "living wage", including benefits--something like $12 or $14 per hour--and the company gave store managers a memo to read at team meetings. TURK clearly did not understand the concept of how government works in the United States. He was obviously befuddled by the idea that the Chicago City Council could override Mayor Daley's veto of the ordinance; the simple concept of the veto itself had to be explained to him in painstaking terms.
This evening, SAND would announce that it was time for a break; and TURK would come on the PA a few minutes later and re-announce it. He announced that the last break was over, and SAND then came on and said, "Break is over when WE say it is, TURK."
SAND put on some halfway decent music; I commented to another coworker, "That'll only last as long as it takes for TURK's fat little legs to carry him up front." TURK played the same disk of crappy-ass music all night, or would have if SAND had not played some other music.
The past few days have been interesting as a result of all this. I have to say that I would be highly pleased if TURK kept on doing stupid crap like this for the rest of the holiday season, while also not doing his own damned work, fucking off all the time, and occasionally ticking SAND off. All of that would make me rather happy even if I had to listen to that goddamned CD of his every night, because chances are he would end up pushing himself right out of a job.
Then we would only have to get rid of CAPTAIN FAPTASTIC, who is the lazy arrogant and stupid P.O.S. team lead, and life at that store would improve greatly.