“It never ends,” Matt said. “People don’t come here just to shop. Some of them think this is their living room, only with maid service. And you’re the maid. They act like pigs, and you have to pick up after them. Dirty diapers are just the start. Last week I had a customer chewing tobacco and spitting into a Coke can, but he kept missing and covering the floor with brown oysters.”

“And on that happy note,” Amy said, “let us proceed to Storage Solutions, one of the least pleasant shops in Orsk because no one ever brings their exact measurements.”

For the next two hours and ten minutes, Amy marched the trainees around the Showroom, from Kitchens and Dining Rooms to Bedrooms, Bathrooms, Wardrobes, and Children’s. She brought the tour to a close at the café around noon, pausing beside a wall of ten black-framed photographs of the store’s senior management, all of them giving their best team player smiles.

“We end our journey at a gallery of accomplishment that you can only dream of joining,” she said. “These men and women are the big brains behind Orsk. If you want to keep your job, I suggest you memorize their faces, learn their names, and avoid them like the plague.”

As the trainees studied the wall—some were taking Amy seriously and trying to memorize the faces—Trinity appeared behind Amy.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked.

Amy stepped back, startled. “Jesus!”

“I guess he counts as a ghost,” Trinity said. “But I meant more of the Paranormal Activity type. I think there are two kinds of people in the world: people who believe in ghosts and people who don’t. So which are you?”

Trinity was one of those happy, super-popular, high-energy girls who reminded Amy of the creatures from Gremlins: she was fun for about half an hour, then you wanted to stuff her in a blender. Supposedly her parents were super-Christian Koreans, which helped explain her rainbow-colored pigtails, her pierced tongue, the tramp-stamp on her lower back, and a full spectrum of multicolored fingernails. Despite the glam-punk look, Amy knew the nails cost $125, the hair was professionally dyed, the piercing cost a fortune, and the tattoo wasn’t cheap, either. Scratch a rebel, Amy thought, and you’ll always find a father’s credit card.

“Trainees, this is your lucky day,” Amy said, turning to the huddle of red shirts. “Trinity works in Staging and Design, which is just a stepping-stone away from working on the catalog in the Orsk USA corporate office.”

A handful of trainees perked up. The employees in Corporate had the best benefits and the best salaries. More important, they never had to deal with customers trying to game them for discounts by pointing out that Target sells a similar item, only cheaper, so couldn’t they cut another twenty percent off the price?