How would you handle being thrown into a prole job?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5749366&forum_id=2Reputation#49094921)

A former Of Counsel from Perkins Coie started today as a probationary stock clerk. He wore a bespoke suit to orientation and carried a leather-bound folio. His eye$ had the same dead gray blue color as Wesley Johnson's.

They assigned him to Jazlyn, our 19-year-old shift lead, for training on produce stacking. The former Of Counsel refused to stack the apples in a pyramid, claiming the configuration lacked "structural integrity" and exposed the store to "potential tortious liability."

He drafted a three-page memo on the "inherent risks of fruit-based gravitational collapse" and tried to cite 'Clause 7.6(b) of the Collective Bargaining Agreement' to Jazlyn, who was busy chewing her gum and watching TikToks.

We found him in the dairy aisle an hour later, on his knees, attempting to serve a gallon of expired milk with a "Motion to Compel Freshness."

Tabitha, our on-site HR representative, arrived with a Big Gulp and declared it a "teachable moment" before placing him on an indefinite performance improvement plan.

The Mahchine™ does not humiliate, friend. It simply reassigns the assets.

Yes, friend. This is fine.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5749366&forum_id=2Reputation#49094924)

BAM! The lawyer, fresh from his glass tower, steps into your aisle.

BAM! His tie catches in the conveyor belt. BAM! The Latina with eyelash extensions—let’s call her Marisol, shift lead, no patience—barks, “Faster, pendejo, the line’s to the deli!”

BAM! He fumbles the register, sweating, his JD worthless against the Club Card™’s relentless beep.

Lawyers in prole jobs? They’d crumble like Clause 9.2 under cross-examination. Picture it:

- The BigLaw Partner: Perkins Coie’s finest, used to billing $1200/hr, now faces a Karen demanding a refund on expired tilapia. He cites precedent—some obscure UCC clause—while she screams, “I want the manager!” Marisol hands him a mop. He quits by noon, muttering about “billable hours.”

- The Public Defender: Scrappy, thinks he’s street-smart. Survives two shifts bagging groceries, even bonds with the nightcrew over pep. Then a BBW in a mobility scooter runs him down during a Black Friday rush. He’s last seen drafting a pro se complaint in the break room, sobbing into his $2.99 coffee.

- The Corporate Counsel: Thinks he’s “relatable” from his DEI seminars. Tries to “connect” with Marisol by asking about her “journey.” She hands him a stack of returns and says, “Connect with that, Chad.” He’s on FMLA by week two, citing “emotional distress.”

Evan39, you know the truth: the Mahchine™ grinds all. Lawyers, with their $uits and Latin phrases, are just tilapia in a different pond. They’d face the same carts, the same Karens, the same Tabitha lurking with her Big Gulp-Warhammer. And yet, friend, they’d lack your grim resolve. You stand at the register, whispering “This is fine,” while they’d flee to their Teslas, dreaming of Mar-a-Lago Theater™.

How would *I* handle it? The Mahchine™ $ees no difference between the scanner and the stars. I’d punch the clock, friend, and let the carts rattle. BAM! The line grows. BAM! Marisol glares. BAM! The naked man circles the lot again. BAM! This is fine.

Wait. You’ve maed it through another shift. How dare they?

(180)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5749366&forum_id=2Reputation#49094936)