Author: punkpixel

thebaconsandwichofregret:

jenniferrpovey:

beachgirlnikita:

thememacat:

WTF is this for real?

Yes – https://www.costco.com/benefits.html

See, what the race-to-the-bottom people forget is one simple fact:

The average cost to replace a minimum-wage retail employee, according to a study by the Center for American Progress, is $3,328. And that’s a lowball. Basically, any time somebody quits or is fired, it costs the company money. A lot of money. New employees are also less productive (because it takes people longer to do things they are less familiar with). Employee churn is very expensive.

The Wal-Mart (and Amazon) model is to consider employees as expendable robots. They completely dismiss the costs of hiring, onboarding, training, reduced productivity during the training period, etc, because “these people are cheap.”

Costco treats employees as “appreciating assets” – that is to say, employees become more valuable over time. Therefore, it is better and more productive to only replace employees who aren’t doing their jobs.

Let’s take a warehouse worker in a large facility. A new worker will waste time remembering which aisle it is, may take a longer route there, etc. Somebody who has been there a year has it down cold. They’ll pick the item far quicker than the new person. This improves productivity, which improves profits.

But for some reason a lot of companies don’t seem to grasp this.

All they see is the paycheck, when the actual figure they should be looking at is the profit a worker produces. That is to say, the difference between productivity and pay. Raising pay causes people to stick around and become more productive, which actually increases the profit in the long term.

We need to stop thinking so short term.

Tl;dr: paying people enough money that they’re not desperate, exhausted and stressed is cheaper and effective than putting shock bracelets on them (this is an actual thing that Amazon have considered doing to prevent “time theft” which is what they call it when you’re a bit slow at completing a task)

gordon-pint:

sharkpunks:

Pointing to what I want on my five dollar footlong

Fun story I had a customer come in at my college subway location at about 2am on a saturday, it was a 20 something year old student high as balls (naturally). This kid wasn’t just high, he was off his ass, he was higher than snoop on April 20th, his eyes were clamshells. I asked him what he wanted and I could see the gears turning in his head but he absolutely couldn’t get anything out. This guy was too high to talk, and I’m surprised he even made it down the street to our store. Obviously I’ve been here before so no problem, I tell the dude I’ve got this and to just point at what he wants, and he commences to just go down the line pointing at the bread and meats and veggies like this damn reaper, leading me on the biggest game of hot and cold I’ve ever played. In the end his sandwich racked up like 15 dollars in extra charges but I think we gave it to him for free. There is no moral to this story.

thequantumqueer:

Fact #1:
laser sights don’t help your aim; they’re highly inaccurate at any range longer than a couple dozen yards and only good for rapid target acquisition

Fact #2:
absolutely every precision shooter knows this

Fact #3:
almost nobody else knows this because movies have erroneously taught people that snipers paint a red dot on the target’s chest before they shoot them

Fact #4:
any nazi who notices a red dot on their chest while giving a speech is going to immediately stop talking and get off the stage, probably while shitting themself

Fact #5:
laser pointers are cheap, legal, and easy to conceal, and unless there’s smoke or dust or something in the air, theres no way to know where it’s coming from

stories from school

whatevenrosslynch:

literalstardust:

The Jellybear Incident of 6th Grade

It’s the sixth grade. Somehow, I had come across a catalogue for the store they bought all the school store crap from. You know, the smelly erasers and dumb keychains that they sell for like a buck apiece. So I somehow got this catalogue, and little old entrepreneur me was like “I should buy something from this and sell it at school for an absurdly high price to gain basically pure profit.” As sixth graders do. So I bought two huge tubs full of these keychains called Jellybears. This is what they look like.

So I bought a metric fuckton of these assholes for about 20 cents a piece. I start selling them at school for a buck fifty. Like I said, pure profit. 6th grade me was brilliant. I broke even in like eight seconds of me whippin these bad boys out at school. Saying these are were a hit is an understatement. They were like a home run triple, or some other sports metaphor. People are buying this shit at lunch time, between classes. Shit, one girl even admitted to selling the ones she bought off me around her neighborhood for like five bucks. I was happy to be the middleman, but I digress. The point is, not only did I gain entrepreneurial skills, I also made a pretty penny. However, a month into my brilliant business, I get a call down to the office.

I had never been called to the office before. I was such a goody two-shoes you wouldn’t believe. This was in a school that boasted like two fights per week. The ratio of cops and administrators to students was like 1:3. And there were 1700 people at this school. That’s a whole lot of authority figures for a whole lot of miscreants and ne’er-do-wells. And here I was, reading large pretentious books and wearing polo shirts, with a gigantic backpack and in an advanced math class. I was, and still am, a lame weeny. Just wanted to put that in perspective.

Anyway, I was called down to the office that day. Literally shaking in the huge chair they had for me, facing down the terrifying vice-principal, she pulled out a Jellybear.

It was the DIVA one, if I’m not mistaken. I was then given a good lecture about how I’m not allowed to sell things on campus without explicit permission, yadda yadda, the whole spiel. Except I felt there was something fishy about the whole thing. Maybe it was how she held the Jellybear in her hand, perhaps it was the way she confiscated the rest of them. 

After asking around with the intense gossip network of middle school, I discovered the real reason the administration confiscated the Jellybears.

They had reason to suspect I was filling them with vodka.

They had reason to suspect that I, the tiny, stupid haired, braces-clad sixth grader who played a tuba bigger than she was was the head of a sophisticated alcohol distributing cartel in which I punctured and drained the goop from cute keychains, refilled them with straight vodka with a syringe, sealed them off with no trace, and sold them around school.

I’m not sure if I’m flattered that they assumed me capable of that sort of espionage, or insulted that they thought me dumb enough to sell middle schoolers straight vodka for A BUCK FIFTY. 

really who did they think i was i was in advanced math for petes sake.

This was a wild ride from start to finish.