At an undetermined point in the past I was working the graveyard shift at an undisclosed location, and at this particular location I was the supervisor of a non specific department. In my department I had a lead hand, who is someone acts as an assistant; and in this story, we will call him Doug. Just so you know, the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty, but when working the graveyard shift, I have found out that there is no innocence only guilt.
Doug, my lead hand, was an excellent worker and vital to the night crew but, unfortunately, there were three drawbacks with him. The first was that he worked like an animal, and that animal would be classified as a pig. Secondly, he would argue with himself when he was working on the sales floor. Thirdly, he was prone to temper tantrums where he would slap himself and pound on his chest like an ape.
I would sometimes watch him from the end of the aisle when he had his tantrums and almost piss myself laughing. He was definitely dangerous and very anti-social, but I didn't care because he produced like a demon.
Then one day I hired a price changer named, Monique, who turned out to be a mess in terms of organization and detail but she was energetic and showed up for work. I learned to take the heat for her mistakes from upper management, but I knew their patience was running thin.
Over time I noticed that she was constantly visiting Doug's aisle and chatting with him, but it wasn't for a minute or so, it was for over an hour sometimes. I let it ride for a bit, but then hauled her upstairs and read her the riot act. She got the message.
The next week Doug came into work on a Saturday holding hands with Monique. Soon the rest of the night crew began to whisper naughty things about them. Even I knew that he was only interested in her for one reason and that was because she had some heavy duty artillery upstairs, which Doug was continually goggle eyed about. Whenever he saw her he went red in the face, but in actuality his face should have been white and not red because all the blood was flowing into a certain area, if you know what I mean. Over the next few weeks some of the other guys on the night crew were giving her attention as well. Monique loved it and lapped it up like a kitten laps up milk, but from the perimeter you could see Doug becoming enraged.
Because of all the attention Monique was getting from all the guys her personality started to change, and as the shifts went by she was wearing less and less clothing that was getting tighter and tighter. One day she came to work in something that looked like a bikini. Another time she came to work in a mini skirt and high heels to get the attention she loved so much. But except for her cannons she wasn't very attractive at all. She was barely five feet tall and her facial features looked like they were purchased from mother nature's second hand store.
Every night Doug became more jealous and would be arguing with himself as he worked in the aisle. He spoke in his own peculiar self invented language that only he could understand. As for Monique, I couldn't stand her anymore and it was time to show her the door.
A few nights later I paged over the intercom that the lunch break was over. Five minutes passed and then ten minutes and only a few of the guys had come down from their break. I was steamed and marched upstairs where I heard the guys laughing and Monique making yelping and squealing noises of a non sexual variety.
I turned the corner to enter the lunchroom and there she was, a total bimbo, flashing her breasts to give the boys a show.