Yes, my second muppets and morons meeting, a monthly ra-ra session to raise the energy of we floor-level people.

This one was held in one of the plush meeting rooms of a local beer distributor, which is a clue about profit margins in horrible suds. I wonder how many dopes drinking what they think are US brands know that they’re sending money to Belgium?

Bait was our business though, and whilst it felt a little better organized than the first one I attended, the difference was marginal.

First impression is that the hosts and presenters think that everyone knows who they are. Etiquette – let alone politeness – would dictate that they state at the beginning who they are, where they are, and how they fit in. Formality never goes out of style.

Second impression is that public speaking is immeasurably improved when everyone can hear without straining. I was again toward the front of the room, and so got most of what was going on, but I know people behind me did not. Mike everyone.

Third impression is that these guys are pretenders. They know the sales steps, but earthworms are really not their strength. As the last module before food – another subject worth another post – a guy from an earthworm producer in Italy introduced his stuff (4 off) and his worm operation. He was clearly a little nervous, and needed someone to bounce off. Did any of these “professionals” give him a hand? Did they make open-ended enquiries to give him an opening? Were they not interested in learning more about an operation that supplies us with thousands of cases of product each year?

No. These dummies were as uninterested as a bowling ball. And whilst he was trying to talk, idiots were opening samples and generally getting in the way, creating noise and distraction.

I was embarrassed to be there. They’re not bad people, they’re merely Kool-Aid drinkers. That’s all.


Sundays at the Bait Shop can be fun or they can be miserable.

Yesterday was unusual in that it was somewhere inbetween, although upon reflection the lack of Earthworms Direct updates from DoughBoy made for a much more peaceful time.

As usual, there were the intense knuckleheads looking for their two bottles of bulk earthworms. Inability to find this life essential causes them great stress, creating tension where none need exist. Poor lambs.

Then there was the weird text scenario. In the hour prior to opening, the directive  from Head Earthworm was to drop and fill the aisles. Fred, one of our non-English-speaking muppets, and I went about this task as usual. He spent half an hour searching for a case of earthworms that has been MIA for two weeks now.

At around nine am HE texted the only “manager” present, asking about the progress of the drop and fill. Huh? Since when has anyone of any intelligence spent their Sunday morning concerned about something so unimportant?

Of interest in this area is that of the one Earthworm manager and two Earthworn supervisors who work at the store, exactly zero will be present for three days this week, including both days of the weekend.

So my suspicion is that Head Earthworm has residual angst from being dopey enough to leave we minions in charge. NOW she’s worried about store admin, from a distance, and too late.

‘Twas ever so. And I suggested to the existing “manager” that we’d made an A+ effort. When in doubt, tell ’em what they want to hear.


Sunday, yesterday, cheap-o day at the bait shop. All was quiet from the 8:00 am kick-off, but after about noon all the arseholes under the Floridian sun decided to make a trip to Bait & Switch.

A certain kind of person is beginning to be the majority here. I smell the fact that they’re from New York, New Jersey and environs. They’re distinguished by an ability to talk straight at service people who are already engaged in serving people.

Picture me, in conversation with an individual bait shopper. Observing us, any normal human would be immediately struck by the thought “oh, look, both of those people are talking; I’ll wait until completion of their interaction before I begin a new one”.

Obviously, an increasing number of people have yet to become acquainted with some elements of the social contract. Notions of taking turns, patience and civility will make for novel and arresting ideas for these people. And then there’s the application of such wonderments.

I nearly, accidentally, walked into an ancient dame. I apologized – twice – but she scoffed and walked on without any positive human acknowledgement. Oh well, she’ll die a horrid painful death.

Daze Orff

Two days off with a five-hour shift in the middle; now that’s not a bad way to go.

At Bait & Switch today the place was busy as all heck, for a nothing-special Wednesday. Sweet supervisors yelling over the radio for us to meet customers, when I was already with two or three people. It doesn’t bug me except when a Bait Supervisor asked me if I could hear the radio.

Yes, butthole, I can hear it, but I am prioritizing by listening to my customers.

Again the problem is clear: not enough people.

Dear Fred, the mandatory non-English speaker in our midst isn’t really any help. He tries, and he knows the procedure when a specific type of bait isn’t readily available, but reverts to his first instinct which is to refer the person to me. When I’m already overloaded, it just make the system look worse.

In any case, the best path is to stay as unflappable as possible and not worry about the dumbass Canadians and the cheapass Americans. If they find their bait, great, if not, no-one dies.

Someone else makes the calculation about staffing levels and the resultant customer satisfaction; not me.