Midnight Madness

Another night, another chaos-filled shift in the stockroom. It’s 9:15 PM, and the pallets just keep coming. The truck that was supposed to arrive at 7 didn’t roll in until almost 8, and now it’s a race against the clock to get everything unloaded, sorted, and stocked before the morning crew shows up and starts complaining about how we left them a mess. I’m in the middle of stocking the cereal aisle when this customer strolls up, even though the store is dead quiet this late. She’s holding a box of some off-brand snack I’ve never seen and asks if we have “this exact thing but gluten-free.” I explain as politely as I can that everything we have is already on the shelves, but she insists I “check in the back.” Spoiler alert: there’s nothing in the back. But of course, I can’t just say that outright. So, I disappear into the stockroom, poke around for five minutes to make it look like I tried, and then come back with a regretful smile. She huffs and leaves, muttering about how “no one wants to work anymore.” By the time she’s gone, I’m back to stocking when I hear a crash. Someone has knocked over a tower of cans at the end of the aisle. Cleaning that up eats another 20 minutes. Meanwhile, the department manager is walking around with their clipboard, pretending to be busy while we’re drowning in work. It’s 1:30 AM now, and we’re still nowhere close to finishing. My back is sore, my patience is thin, and there’s another truck scheduled for tomorrow night. Just another glamorous shift as a Walmart stocker—where the chaos never ends, but at least there’s free cardio.