McManager Cherilee barreled down the assembly line with the force of a thousand pickup trucks. “Derpy! Drop that spatula this instant, or everypony dies.”
The corner of Derpy’s apron caught on the grease trap, arresting her motion mid-turn. “What? What’s wrong?”
“You’re supposed to be working the assembly line!”
“Uh. Yes! That’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Then why are you at the grill?”
The alligator grill-top beeped and opened up, sending a shower of grease onto both the cooked patties and Derpy. “Is this a trick question?” Derpy asked.
The order screen went, bong, and a new order appeared. Derpy hustled the burgers off the grill and into the warming tray before Cherilee could stop her. Cherilee glanced up at the order screen nervously. A moment of tense silence passed. Nothing changed on the screen. Cherilee let out a low sigh of relief.
“Don’t do that again,” Cherilee said. “Remember what the employee training course said—focus on your station and your station only. Or everypony dies.”
Derpy didn’t remember that exact line from the employee training course she’d taken earlier in the week—but then again, she had mostly spam-clicked the “complete” button on the slides until she had worked her way through all the modules. Flipping burgers was not exactly rocket science.
“Sorry,” Derpy said, “but I need more burger patties, and I haven’t seen Fry Up since she went to the walk-in freezer to get more condiments. That was like, twenty minutes ago. Someone should probably go check on her.”
“That’s a great idea. Go see if she’s okay.”
“I can do that as soon as these orders are finished.”
“The orders can wait. Go make sure she didn’t accidentally lock herself in.”
“Fine, okay.” Derpy shuffled around uncomfortably, her non-slip rubber shoes squeaking against the splotchy tile floor. “Hey, Manager Cherilee—”
“McManager. Please use the official title.”
“Oh, sorry, McManager Cherilee. I don’t like to be this kind of pony, but I feel like I need to tell you that Fry Up hasn’t exactly been pulling her weight around here lately.”
“Oh?”
“Ever since I got here, she’s been cutting shifts early, slacking on food prep, and not supporting me when I ask for help. She’s not a bad pony, and I don’t want her to get in trouble, but maybe you could flex your McManager muscles and talk to her?”
Cherilee considered Derpy’s words for a long moment. Two more orders appeared on the order screen with a loud bong. Derpy went to start them, but Cherilee held her back.
“Derpy, I know you’re pretty new here, so I’m going to give you a pass this time. In the future, leave employee efficiency to me.”
“Okay. Sorry if I’m stepping on anypony’s hooves here. It’s just that I’m constantly backed up on orders, and with two ponies consistently at their workstations—”
Cherilee reached across the prep line and put a hoof on Derpy’s shoulder. “Leave the managing to me.” A loud bloop sounded from the front of the restaurant. “Sounds like we need more fries. Grab a box while you’re in the walk-in.”
Two more orders bong’d onto the screen. Derpy instinctively turned to start them, but a stern look from Cherilee stopped her short.
“Freezer please! McManager’s orders. Or everypony dies.”
Inside the walk-in, Fry Up sat on a throne of french fry boxes. A joint hung from the corners of her mouth. A medley of metal music blasted from her phone, competing with the harsh drone of the cooling fans.
“That’s a f—urk—” Derpy pushed aside the thick plastic ribbons in the doorway only to have one swing back and slap her in the face. Fry Up let out a laugh. “That’s a fire hazard,” Derpy said. “And I need more fries.”
After a long moment of contemplation, Fry Up lifted one hoof that had been resting on a pile of boxes. “Don’t throw your back out,” she said, her voice cool.
Derpy grimaced as she hefted the heavy box onto her back. “Having a nice break?”
“Eh, I’ve had better.” She puffed on the joint and blew smoke into the cooling fans, which in turn blew it into Derpy’s face.
“Y’know, I don’t want to come across as that coworker, but I just need to say that you’re really making things hard for the store.”
Fry Up chuckled. “Good one.”
“Not joking. This would not fly at the post office. Just because I’m making more money here, doesn’t mean I’m more comfortable with shouldering your share of the work.”
A strange look crossed Fry Up’s face. “Sorry. Is this still part of the bit?”
“There is no bit. I’m having to work twice as hard just to keep up. I get it, it’s not cool to work or whatever, but can you make an exception for me?”
“Yeah, sure,” Fry Up laughed, “I can work as hard as you. And then we’ll all die.”
Derpy threw her hooves up in the air, almost knocking the fry box from her back. “Honestly, why is everypony at this restaurant so melodramatic about working?”
“Okay, the bit’s not funny anymore. Why are you harping on this? Are you—wait...” Fry Up’s face burst into a greasy smile. “Oh. Oh. Heh. Okay. Nevermind.”
“Wait, what? C’mon, tell me. What’s going on around here?”
“You’ve been a bad employee, Derpy! I know what you diiiiid,” Fry Up said in a sing-song voice.
“The only thing I’ve done is be the best worker this place has ever seen. And I’m being punished for it! Am I doing something wrong? Please, Fry Up, just tell me.”
“It’s not what you did,” Fry Up said, “it’s what you didn’t do. Now go.” She flicked her joint, sending a skitter of sparks and ash to the floor. “You’ve been in here for seventy eight seconds already. Those customers are counting on you.”
On the order screen, each order had a timer. After two minutes, the order turned yellow. After four, it turned red. Every order on the screen was red.
Derpy stared at the empty warming tray, squeezing the warm metal sides of the prep table until her hooves turned white. Her mind was in the walk-in, willing Fry Up to come to her senses and return to her post. The regular bloops and beeps rang in her ears louder and louder, until she could take it no longer. If nopony else was going to do their jobs, then by golly, she would.
She ducked her head around the corner to make sure Cherilee was in her office. Then she stealthily drew a sheet of frozen burger patties from the freezer and started to cook.
One customer at the counter was surprised to find his order in his hooves before he could so much as put his wallet away. He peered over the half-wall into the kitchen and saw Derpy waving at him.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile, “I heard you ordering, so I got ahead of the machine. Hope you enjoy!”
“Thanks!” the customer replied. “That’s some really amazing customer service. You deserve some recognition for your hard work.”
Derpy’s ears perked up. “It’s nothing, sir! Happy to make you happy.”
“No, really, I insist. Where is your manager? I want to commend you.”
A single droplet of sweat beaded on Derpy’s forehead. “That really isn’t necessary. They’re quite busy, and at any rate, I’m just doing my job!”
“Absolutely not. I used to work in retail back in the day. I know how it is.” In a much louder voice, he said, “Is there a manager present?”
Like a moth to a flame, Cherilee came running from her office. “Yes, sir! Refunds can only be processed with food that is less than one-quarter eaten. Press inquiries should go to our regional office. For fight requests, Waffle Hut is across the street.”
Derpy watched on in horror as the customer started describing his experience. The beeps and bloops of the kitchen machines rose to a fever pitch, drowning out all other sound. The customer pointed to the order board. Cherilee’s gaze followed. Her lips moved in the shape of, Oh, did she now?
The customer smiled and waved and walked away with his food. Cherilee’s eyes remained locked on Derpy. An unsettlingly crooked smile cracked her face.
“Derpy.”
“Yes?”
“Did you clear the order board?”
Derpy tried to take a step back, but her legs were rooted to the spot. “Just look at how happy we made our customers.”
Cherilee’s smile broke, and she stormed off to the supply closet. A moment later, she emerged with a mop and feverishly began tidying up the store. “Stupid, stupid, not listening to instructions, stupid,” she mumbled under her breath. Then to Derpy, she said, “Module twenty, task two, subtask fourteen, slide six. What does it say?”
“Uh. What?”
“The employee training module, Derpy. Module twenty, task two, subtask fourteen, slide six. Tell me exactly what it said.”
“Uuuuuh—”
At that moment, there was a clatter from across the kitchen. Fry Up emerged from the walk-in cooler, a baked smile on her face, a single bottle of ketchup in hoof.
“Found those condiments!” she declared. “How are my favorite ponies doing?” She looked at the order board. The smile remained, but the light in her eyes died. “Oh, heh, we’re so cooked.”
“Fry Up. Module twenty, task two, subtask fourteen, slide six.”
Like a sleeper agent receiving a secret codeword, Fry Up stood up straight at attention. “McBurgerMare’s measures store performance by a key performance indicator called the Combined Efficiency Coefficient, or CEC. The CEC accounts for all machines and employees in the store, taking into account both status and usage levels for machines as well as status and activity for employees. The CEC is fixed by the McBurgerMare’s Corporate Office, is unique to each store, and should be used as the benchmark for overall efficiency. The CEC is designed to remain stable over time. Deviations from the CEC may result in disciplinary actions up to and including verbal warnings, written warnings, unpaid timeouts, and death.”
“Death?” Derpy blurted out.
“Yes, Derpy. When I said everypony dies if the number moves, everypony dies. Honestly, how did you not—”
In the distance, almost imperceptibly, came the bassy drone of a warhorn.
Cherilee’s eyes went wide. “Oh god. Oh my god.”
Fry Up frowned and said, “Yeeeeah, I just realized I forgot the mustard,” and went back in the walk-in.
Cherilee grabbed Derpy by the shoulders. “Quick. Derpy. There’s not much time. Tell me: how many employee training modules are there?”
“Uh... I dunno. I think forty?” Derpy felt the ground rumble ever so slightly, accompanied by another distant drone. Was it getting closer? “I think I see another customer—”
“Forty one! There are forty one!” Cherilee dragged Derpy into the manager’s office. She pulled a binder from a shelf above the computer and dug through it until she found a bent piece of construction paper. “What is this?”
“Uh. My employee training course completion certificate.”
Cherilee pointed to the bottom, beside the pixelated tri-color balloons. “Is that your name?”
“Cherilee, where are you—”
“Yes, Derpy, it is your name. It says D-E-R-P-Y, H-O-O-V-E-S. Your name is on this certificate because you completed the employee course. And if you completed the employee training course, then you would know exactly how many modules there were.”
The ground rumbled with enough force to make the pens in the jar beside the computer rattle. “Cherilee, you’re starting to scare me.”
Cherilee stalked over to the computer and hammered away at the keyboard. “Did you watch the modules all the way through?”
“Yeah,” Derpy squeaked.
“Uh huh.” As Cherilee typed, she continued, “The employee training course is designed to take an entire nine-hour shift to complete, with a fifteen-minute break every two hours and a half-hour break in the middle for lunch. By pulling up your completion history, I can see that you completed the training course in...”
The typing stopped. Silence fell heavy in the manager’s office. Light from the screen reflected in Cherilee’s wide, frightened eyes.
“Uh. Cherilee? Are you okay?”
“Two minutes... and thirty six seconds.” Cherilee’s head fell into her hooves. “You completed the course in... two minutes... and thirty six seconds.”
From outside came the sound of thunder and fire and rage incarnate, a blast of sound that sent Derpy staggering.
“What’s going on?” Derpy shouted.
“What’s going on,” Cherilee said, “is you spam-clicked the complete button on each module instead of actually reading through the trainings!”
“Okay, okay, maybe I skipped a few of the training modules. The first twelve modules were all anti-bribery training! No one’s bribing anyone to make hamburgers!” The floor split with a jarring crack. “Is this an earthquake?”
“Worse,” said Cherilee. “Upper management.”
A blinding light shone through the windows, causing customers and employees alike to shield their faces in terror. The front doors whipped open with enough force to send foals flying. Windows bowed in their frames. The entire restaurant seemed to sink into the ground under the weight of the force outside.
Into the restaurant, flanked by a choir of angels and a cadre of underlings in suits, stepped the source of the light: the corporate chief optimization officer, Celestia.
“We’re dead,” Cherilee wailed. “Derpy, if you make it out, tell my foals to eat more McBurgerMare’s. It’s important to build brand identity early.” Then she straightened her uniform, marched over to the counter, and prostrated herself. “Holy mouthpiece of the market! My life for thee!”
“McManager Cherilee!” COO Celestia’s voice boomed like the horns of a hundred angry cars in the drive-thru. “I was looking over my reports just now and I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been doing a very good job.” Her smile was primordially frightening, something that rattled Derpy down to her DNA. “I thought I’d come down here and congratulate you on your success.”
Cherilee grimaced. “Thank you. It was a team effort. I am a grateful pawn in the game of capital.”
“As are we all! Your team deserves a reward for furthering our brand’s mission.” A drone in a suit stepped up to Celestia and hoofed her a bag, from which she produced several small bundles. One floated to Cherilee, while another floated to Derpy. “Please accept these tokens of my gratitude.”
Derpy unwrapped her bundle. Inside was a piece of paper that read:
Thank you for your commitMINT!
Beside the message, a single plastic-wrapped mint candy was precariously stapled to the page.
“My work here is complete!” Celestia said. “Before I leave, I would like to impress upon you and your team that excellence is always a top priority. We are always seeking to identify growth opportunities and exploit advantages. Your excellent work bringing up your efficiency numbers has been identified as an area of growth opportunity.”
Cherilee gulped. “Oh god.”
“As such, we have adjusted your combined efficiency coefficient to reflect growth expectations.”
All eyes turned to the order board. The CEC blinked, went away, then came back double what it was before.
“Double?” Cherilee said, mouth agape. “Your Marketliness, the restaurant would need to be doing peak sales numbers for twenty six hours a day to meet that CEC!”
“This is all part of our growth plan,” Celestia proclaimed. “We have set ambitious goals for our shareholders. Their success is our success, and they can’t succeed without growth. You are responsible for that growth.”
“That’s imp...” Cheilee cowed under the weight of her lord’s stare. “Sorry. Sorry. Okay. Yes.”
“No!”
Celestia and Cherilee turned around to find Derpy standing atop the prep line, chest puffed out, encourage-mint clenched in one outstretched hoof. With a dramatic motion, she threw it to the floor. A foal in the seating area gasped and went, “Ooooo!”
“This is wrong,” Derpy said. “Those CEC numbers were wrong.”
Celestia paused. She lowered her head, her eyes shining like those of a tiger studying a gazelle. “Wrong? You’re calling my analysis wrong?”
“Your analysis is not wrong. It’s Misinformed. The numbers were incorrectly inflated on our end.”
Celestia brushed Cherilee aside. Merely touching the COO’s fur filled Cherilee with the overwhelming urge to hustle, grind, and appear on podcasts. She withered under the weight of her newfound desires, leaving Celestia a clear path to the kitchen. “Tell me how exactly this happened.”
“I worked the fryer and the prep line at the same time to cover my friend, who was trying to get condiments from the walk-in. It’s my fault.”
“Working the fryer and the prep line at the same time? That doesn’t make sense.” The smile of disdain on Celestia’s face fell into something more neutral, analytical. “Module eight, task four, subtask twenty one, slide six clearly states that no employee is allowed to work more than one station at a given time.” The angelic trumpeting tone of her voice took on a hurt tone. “Why would you do that?”
“Uh. Heh. We just had a lot of orders.”
“This situation is clearly outlined in the employee training course.” Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “Did you complete your employee training module?”
“Yes.”
“Did you read through all the modules, or did you just spam-click the complete button until you were done?”
Derpy let out a nervous giggle. “There were forty of them.”
“Forty? Forty?” COO Celestia’s eyes blazed red with rage. “There are forty one!”
The restaurant cracked right down the middle. Celestia’s mane burst into bright orange flames. Derpy yelped in surprise and took off towards the exit.
“Where are you going?” Celestia said. “Your shift doesn’t end for another forty five minutes! I gave you a commit-mint! Get back here and straighten out your CEC or everypony dies!”
The chief of the Ponyville Post Office looked up from the resume on her desk. In a slow, drawling voice, she said, “Well, we’re still understaffed, so I won’t say we wouldn’t love to have you back. You said you’ve been on vacation these past few weeks?”
On the other side of the desk, Derpy smiled. She pushed a piece of her singed mane back behind her ear. “Yup!”
The chief glanced at her tail, which was conspicuously shorter and blacker than it had been the last time they saw each other. “And on that vacation, you were...”
“Skydiving into an active volcano.” Derpy flicked her tail. “Deployed my chute a little too low.”
“Uh huh.” The chief cleared her throat. “I know the last time we spoke, you mentioned better pay as the primary reason for you leaving. Now I could hire you back, but I’m afraid a raise just isn’t in the budget—”
“That’s fine,” Derpy interjected. “Skydiving into that volcano made me realize that money isn’t everything.”
“Hm.” The chief’s lips pursed. “You should probably look into suing the pants offa whoever subjected you to that. But here I go rambling again. Welcome back, Derpy. You’re hired.”
