Trainee

are you going back to school you ask hoisting a tray of tresemme conditioner bottles onto the metal grating shelf as rain beats upon the night-dark skylight not yet i say someday maybe

i catch you dragging your pallet jack uncertainly over the imprint of an oak leaf in the cement at the foot of a table of ladies’ pants when you stop i grab the handle and carefully drop the pallet to the floor so no one drops it on their foot i explain

i see you making a foothold of a yellow plastic rack guard reaching for the back of a high shelf and i remind you of the cosco ladders stored at every fire exit

in the most ominous voice i can manage i say it wouldn’t be good for anyone if something were to happen to you if something were to happen to me you say there would only be

some annoying paperwork to be done i tell you that’s not true but you are let go within a month