Front end at a Stable 2 Table From Wholesome Shopper Market

The ride home takes just under an hour, the first half of which is a state route bearing due south. One that passes through no towns, during this stretch, yet features isolated little clusters of commerce, at least one instance of just about every famous fast food restaurant a person cares to name. In other words the perfect stretch for someone leaving work this late at night, seeking just to hit a drive thru before continuing the long slog home.

He’s back to going this way, after listening to Nancy in vitamins for exactly two consecutive mornings. She had asked him which way he was coming, then scoffed as if this were the most foolish thing she ever heard. “Don’t go that way!” she insisted, recommending instead some winding country road that moves in a lazy northwesterly direction up here to Lorena. “Trust me, it’s much faster!”

Well, two days is not a huge sample size, but considering there’s no traffic and just one stoplight for that entire journey, he’s guessing there isn’t a ton of variance, either. And based upon this trial run, it would seem that if everything breaks at its absolute worst with his former method, he might save about five minutes, tops, going this way instead. Otherwise more like two. And this lazy country route is so boring it’s excruciating, easily one of the most unrelenting dull stretches he’s ever driven. Henceforth he immediately switches back to driving west on the interstate for the first half, north on the state route the second, then reversing such at night.

With a week under their belt now, thoughts about travel are on many of their minds. He arrives Thursday to Vicky asking, as she lives fairly near to him, about his experiences in this matter. “How long does it take you to get here?” she asks.

“Eh, about fifty five minutes.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“The sad thing, though, is like I was telling my wife. This is twice as far away as Central, but I get here five minutes faster. That’s how insane the traffic is down there.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she agrees.

This will go down as a day he will always think of as a significant inflection point in his time with the company — and not in a good way. Opening a store of this size in just a week, with his fingers in as many pies as they’ve forcibly jammed them into around here, this means all the days are important, of course, and memorable. Yet this one is different in both its character and its impact.

It starts out normally enough, anyway. The only exception is that, while Edgar is able to knock out his morning ritual of patrolling the deli case, on the hunt for any PLU numbers that need added, he doesn’t find a ton this morning. But then Ken is apparently approached a couple hours later by Louise, as she thrusts a list of about 25 or 30 numbers in his face. This is a first for Ken, as she has thus far always handed such lists to Edgar, in addition to the ones he’s found on his own. In fact, these are the first numbers Ken has added to RU Data, period, although it’s nifty that he has done so — even if this is potentially somewhat problematic in that he hasn’t gone through Edgar’s typical ritual of seeing if they already have a similar item in their existing database. It will also need added to their existing deli scales, too, at some point. But at least those things will ring up now.

“Louise gave me this list, and I added them to the system,” Ken explains, dropping the paper on the table next to Edgar.

“Oh yeah? Cool. That’s what we’ve been doing every morning, really, to get that deli squared away.”

“Yeah so they should be in really good shape now, since I did this…,” Ken boasts, beaming, trailing off as though not even hearing him.

Though Ken has been a decent advisor, and obviously knows quite a bit about this business, Edgar wouldn’t really say the guy has done much up to this point. His main pursuits have involved walk around the store, checking things out, and then occasionally reporting to Todd about what Edgar and Sharon are up to. But it’s already made out as though, if he doesn’t outright boot Edgar from his current role, that Edgar is answering to Ken now. In that sense this weird glory hound outburst makes total sense, because it’s 100% a typical managerial move.

Another aspect he can pick up on here, though Ken never came right out and said so, is that Louise surely gave him an earful about this deli scale situation. It’s a reliable guess considering that she’s groused to Edgar about it a number of times, too. Though she’s just as fired up about the situation, her stance is situated at the precise opposite pole from theirs: she’s extremely agitated that these new scales are arriving, period, and he can’t seem to get her to grasp why they have to move away from her current ones, and switch out a bunch of PLU numbers. Whereas, as far as Edgar and Vicky are concerned, it’s highly distressing that they are a day away from opening and those new ones haven’t arrived, thanks to Todd’s stunt in attempting to cancel the order.

Far more troubling to Edgar, though, is seeing how this dynamic is going to play out with Ken. You can’t have multiple people changing prices and adding new items to the system without an extremely coordinated effort. Which is already under threat of serious attack, as just this minor list of deli recipes demonstrates. As far as Edgar’s concerned, the only way this is going to work is for him to upload the master spreadsheets for every department, and make these Google Sheets instead of Excel ones, online, which he and Ken both share. Make their changes there, and then upload those files into the system. Of course the instant that happens, Sharon is surely going to bellyache endlessly to whomever she has to and clamor for inclusion as well, even though she has absolutely nothing to do with this aspect whatsoever. But whatever the case, Ken has already pooh poohed this notion of the shared spreadsheets, as he prefers going directly into RU Data to manually make his changes.

Edgar strongly disagrees with this approach, for any number of reasons, which have been made clear to anyone who broaches this topic, for years now. Most of the time he is able to win over Sharon with his points of view, but suspects that is no longer going to happen — she is going to play whatever side she has to in order to wrest more power. And the only other person who knows what he’s talking about, is indeed the person who taught him so much about the philosophies behind this job, would be Teri. Who has already informed them that, after they get through this store opening, she plans to say adios to this informal, part time consultant position. She has her own IT business to run, and surely isn’t relishing the prospect of driving an hour plus up this way, at the drop of a hat, every time something goes haywire.

Yet for all intents, it’s mostly just another “normal” day at S2TFWSM, up until one ultimately fateful conversation with Todd, mid-afternoon. Looking back on his time working here, he will always think that this particular decree marks a definitive line in the sand. Or maybe the absence of where Edgar should have drawn his own line in the sand. The point at which he should have just openly defied the guy. Because it’s not always enough just to politely disagree with your boss — sometimes, if you think an idea is particularly atrocious, and are convinced that you absolutely know better than he, it’s okay to completely ignore him.

At this juncture, the aura around Lorena has actually fallen into a relatively content lull. The aura has even lightened, around sense of wrapping things up, as this massive operation lurches to its feet less than a full day from now. The Universal crew and the tagging girls are still down in the last couple of aisles, but should easily knock out what remains of their project by the end of the night. They’ve broken down two of the three long tables, comprising the former U shaped battle station, and those who remain are merely clustered around the one that still stands. Bobby from MRI, who is a somewhat squat and husky figure, with head shaved bald, in the basic vague Bruce Willis mold, has even approached the table, snatched up a tag scanner as he shot Edgar a challenging smirk.

“Let’s see how good you are,” he says, as he prepares to spot check this entire store.

“Okay,” Edgar nods, grinning back at him.

Though he skips the pair of aisles where that tagging crew is still working, Bobby returns about a half hour later having otherwise checked the prices in every other region of the store. At least one per section, if not more. He returns with a very simple verdict.

“You’re good,” he says. His smirk is now more of a partial one now, half impressed and half disbelieving, as he relates that he couldn’t find a single incorrect price. Todd, who is pacing around nearby, in his continual state of alternately shouting out jokes to nearby employees, chatting on the phone, or boasting to those closer to him about what an awesome job he’s doing, is presently unoccupied with any of these and therefore cannot resist chiming in.

“Eh!? Eh!? What did I tell you?” Todd says, which initially finds Edgar somewhat beaming with pride — at least until this latest glory hound blathers on. “I told you I’m not messing around, didn’t I? I know what I’m doing!”

“Yeah, I guess so!” Bobby says, glancing from Todd to Edgar, back and forth again. This MRI rep has a tendency to back away from a conversation, Edgar has noticed before, as in literally physically retreating in reverse. It’s unclear what Bobby expects to happen at the conclusion of these conversations, but he’s doing so again right now, until he is out of earshot. Perhaps he anticipates a sniper taking potshots at him from a nearby aisle. Which, come to think of it, is maybe not as preposterous as it seems.

So this is somewhere in the neighborhood of 3pm. All is quiet on this front until Todd reappears approximately an hour later, with one of the more thoroughly ridiculous requests Edgar has ever fielded in his time working here. No, remove that qualifier. It is officially the most ridiculous request Edgar has fielded in his time working here.

“Okay, here’s what we’re doin’,” Todd says, standing before him on the other side of this table. He’s also performing that bit where, with the thumb and first two fingers pressed together, someone is also jabbing this hand at you to underscore virtually every syllable. “I need you to upload. The MRI. Product list. We’re goin’ with their SRPs.”

“Wait a second — what product list?”

“The MRI one.”

“You mean their entire product list?”

“Yes. We’re goin’ with their SRPs. On everything.”

“Okay but I don’t even have their whole product list. It’s been like pulling teeth just to get, like, that one file of the items they added at Palmyra. Or anything new since then.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m havin George send it to ya. They’re our main supplier, I want their prices on everything.”

“Well yeah, but even so, we don’t always go with the SRPs on stuff. Or even usually. We’ve got our own margins on things. Like even with Universal as our primary supplier, we wouldn’t just go with their SRPs.”

Todd waves his arms in a manner meant to stifle all debate and says. “This is what we’re doin.’ Okay? I want their prices on everything.”

“Yeah but we’ve still got Universal out here hanging tags from the first wave that I printed,” Edgar points out, and sticks his own arm out toward that general direction of the store, “now they might be getting a different tag for the exact same thing.”

“If they get a different tag, they get a different tag,” Todd shrugs, “they’ll just have to hang the new one. That’s it. So yeah. I’m havin George send you the file right now. Be on the lookout for it.”

These are only the most obvious, surface points that they have discussed, any of which alone make this about the dumbest decision in the history of retail. Even the New Coke debacle might pale in comparison to this one. There are still others, too, which Edgar hadn’t the opportunity to even drill down into, or possibly only occur to him as he continues to sit here stewing over the matter. Also, the fact that “right now” means he’s waiting until 6 o’clock to receive this file is not helping matters any.

Though micro management gets all of the press and is a well-known, extremely pervasive buzzword, that’s not what they’re dealing with here. Todd is almost the exact opposite of a micro manager, but there’s no trendy phrase for this phenomenon, even though it’s just as common, and just as catastrophic: Todd can’t be bothered with details, not up until the very last second. At which point he wants to change everything around. Even though, it’s true, he typically also doesn’t care about the details at this moment, either.

They continually deal with this, concerning him. Over and over again. But long after this bus continues careening downhill, without any brakes, and Edgar has a chance to look at the smoldering wreckage in his rearview, he will realize that this was the key turning point for everything that followed. He should have just told the guy fuck this, I’m not doing it. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I will take this up with Rob or anybody else I have to, before I even think about acceding to your request. Or not even that, really. He could have just agreed with Todd, verbally, but then sat on the file. Only deployed the pieces that were needed, here and there, if anyone ever complained about the price on such and such.

But you don’t always have the luxury of spending an eternity, analyzing the best response. He’s not accustomed to just flat out defying what one of his superiors have demanded. They have only two or three working hours remaining before these doors are open to the public. Not to mention, he has a few witnesses here — Fred is seated at this table, Vince is seated at this table. Even the new produce merchandiser, Buddy, is here. They might not have understood everything they just heard, and probably not all the implications, but all three at least stopped what they were doing and absorbed most of if not the entire conversation. And there’s basically no dissuading Todd from the belief that he’s a leading light of this entire industry, on a global scale. So okay, chief, you got it. We’ll run with your genius idea, since you are in charge and so convinced of your excellence, and we will see how this one turns out, though I already have a really strong notion about that.

Of course, by the time he receives the file and takes a solid gander at it, he recognizes that it’s even worse than his initial intuitions. Both because of the file itself, but also due to a few other factors that have steadily popped into his head. He understands what Todd is going for here, and the rationale behind it. MRI sends that file every week with the three price levels, the lowest priority one being regular old price changes. And then on the Tuesday truck, they actually ship the shelf tags associated with these price changes.

That’s all well and good, except they could just chuck the shelf tags, and Edgar could continue adhering to his regular old process of sorting the file, applying formulas and determining if something needs adjusted or not based upon costs and their departmental margins, then print out their own in-house tags instead. Of course, any time he says something like this, the bosses here lately have wanted to frame it that he is “afraid” of change, or “clinging to Slingshot” or some other such nonsense — even though his response, and the actual answer, is that no, this is in fact the best procedure. Because two months from now, if not sooner, everyone is going to start bellyaching and finger pointing about where all the margins went. MRI isn’t substantially cheaper than Universal. They are lower on cost on many items, but also higher on a ton, which means it’s about a wash; sticking to their SRPs across the board will just about guarantee that no department has any chance of hitting its projected margin.

And this is the best case scenario, at the two stores which are even permitted to order MRI. Once again this wacky dilemma rears its head, as it had at Palmyra a few months ago, whereby Todd is insisting for some weird reason that he doesn’t want Central or Arcadia ordering from MRI just yet. There are allegedly deals he still has to hammer out with them and so on and so forth. So between the four stores, there are now three different ordering situations in play: at Lorena, they’ve got the proprietary MRI guns, have reverted back to using Scan Tree for Universal, are stuck calling and emailing everyone else; Palmyra alone has what currently passes as the best arrangement, with all of the Slingshot ordering still in place, plus the MRI guns; the other two locations, meanwhile, still have Slingshot as well, yet can’t even order MRI.

An ordering dilemma isn’t really just an ordering dilemma, then. Putting aside the outrageous inefficiencies in time and labor alone, at what is now by far your biggest store, it has a host of other ramifications. Despite such things as math, the good ol’ eyeball test, and common sense, Todd insists that this MRI arrangement is a tremendously sweet deal for their bottom line, it’s just that Edgar and most of the others aren’t privy to all the facts. Sure, this could be the case, but no evidence supporting it has yet surfaced. Therefore, as Edgar must set MRI as the preferred supplier on all of the shelf tags going to Lorena and Palmyra, yet leave Universal or whomever else listed on the tags for Central and Arcadia, this is but one complication. Another is that those latter two stores are getting hosed, then, if they are sticking to the same base retails as Palmyra and Lorena, yet not privy to MRIs purported cost breaks, and without question not participating in the same weekly sales flyer specials. Or does Todd want to set a completely different base retail, distinguishing the two groups? No, he doesn’t want to do that, either — not that Edgar would ever be insane enough to advocate for this, anyway.

All of these arguments are bad enough, but even so, they are only circling around the central and possibly largest issue of them all. This would be that, as Edgar has worked here for now what is exactly nine days shy of ten years, they have to date accumulated a database with roughly 25,000 items in it. This MRI file alone has 36,000. At bare minimum, this means at least 11,000 new items are getting added, all at once, at 6pm on the night before you are set to open this gargantuan store. Which is itself probably less problematic than the surely thousands upon thousands of retails that are about to change, right now, not just here but everywhere. He can delay kicking these down to the other three stores until tomorrow, and that’s about the extent of what finesse he has at his disposal. If doing this at all, the time for that would have been weeks ago, not right now.

Otherwise, this is an enormous chain they are setting in motion, which he has done his best to protest, to no avail. Tags are going to start flying all over the place. Especially here, where they entered no beginning inventory and have no record of all the product on hand, obviously no sales history yet, which means that everyone has agreed they pretty much need to print every changing shelf tag for who knows how many months, whether this store is even carrying it or not. At least at the other three, he can filter by inventory and sales history, although the likes of Ralph and Laurie are still going to seriously lose their shit about fourteen hours or so from now.

So yeah, about a decade on the job, though it seems as though everyone is progressively interested less and less about anything he has to say on these topics. This despite just about every key figure raving about the job he was doing at the start, after which, if he may say so, he feels like he has subsequently learned a lot and gotten even better at it. Due to input from the likes of Teri or external inputs from John Arthur or even Stephen — who has, sadly enough, already left town, and would have been possibly one voice of sanity backing him up, if still here. Plus quite a few things Edgar feels like he’s discovered and figured out on his own.

Instead, the dynamic is rapidly escalating into one where everything he says is ignored, in favor of whichever random point of view the bosses are latching onto instead. It’s made out as though Edgar is being negative and/or standing in the way of progress for disagreeing with any of them, naturally. And yet, when their plans go haywire, it is still his fault, somehow, of course.

That’s a pretty sweet arrangement — for everyone else, that is. He wonders how he might go about securing such a plum assignment for himself. But evidently that will have to happen elsewhere, if at all. Here, despite not even understanding what they are talking about or the ramifications created by these foolhardy decrees, this knucklehead regime has steadily wiped out any competing opinions such as his. And it’s only going to get worse from here.