Work Text:
“Okay team, before we open, just a couple quick reminders: one, whoever keeps building canned food thrones in aisle three… Please stop it. It’s a safety hazard.”
The breakroom is mostly quiet as Junseo goes over the morning announcements.
Quiet in the sort of way that a bunch of tired minimum wage employees who very much do not want to be here, and yet are stuck sitting around a cheap folding table while their manager lectures them, can be.
At least most of them are listening, and well… Junseo will take what he can get.
All eyes swivel automatically to Sanghyeon, who shrinks down in his seat.
“Two,” Junseo continues, clapping his hands together weakly for emphasis, “No one is allowed to eat the almonds straight out of the bulk bins.”
“What about the cashews?” Xinlong asks, not even bothering to glance up from his phone.
“No,” Junseo says flatly.
“What about—”
“Also no.”
Xinlong shrugs, muttering, “Worth a shot,” and going back to his phone.
“Three,” Junseo says, rubbing his temples, “Please stop flirting with customers to get them to buy more wine.”
“But it works,” Jiahao objects.
“It doesn’t matter if it works, it needs to stop.”
“So just to be clear,” Jiahao questions. “You want us to sell less wine?”
“No, I—”
“Ohh wow, man, wait till the corporation hears about this,” Geonwoo whistles, “Looks like we might have a new manager sooner rather than later.”
“Congratulations Sanghyeon you’ve been promoted,” Leo chimes in with a teasing tone, slapping their youngest employee on the back.
Sanghyeon, who had been texting on his phone and clearly not paying attention to the meeting, looks up with a startled expression on his face, “No, please Junseo-hyung don’t quit! I’m not ready for responsibility!”
“All in favor of Sanghyeon becoming the new manager once Junseo-hyung is fired, raise your hand!”
More than half the hands in the room dart into the air. Something Junseo would feel a lot more insulted by if he wasn’t so deeply tired.
“And fourth,” Junseo continues, raising his voice over their attempts to stage a coup and give away his job to their youngest employee. “The intercom system is for official store announcements only. Not karaoke. Not scamming customers into fake sales.” His eyes cut sharply to Geonwoo, who shrugs unbothered by the direct call out, before he adds, “And not to ask your coworkers out on dates.”
At his words, nearly the entire table of minimum wage employees turn to glance over at Anxin.
However, rather than feeling any sense of shame over last week’s public dating announcement, Anxin just grins, flashing his finger guns Junseo’s way as he replies, “You got it, boss man.”
Beside him, Sangwon, the target of said announcements, seems to at least have some sense of shame, sinking down deeper into his chair, and ducking his head as if he could disappear into his apron.
There’s a beat of silence in which Junseo takes a moment to genuinely consider resigning on the spot and letting them go ahead with their plan to elect Sanghyeon as the new manager. In the end though, he just sighs and says, “One more thing. By the end of the day I’ll be choosing Employee of the Month. So everyone do your best today, okay?”
That wakes the room up, as everyone turns towards Sangwon to congratulate him on his upcoming victory as Employee of the Month.
“Congrats, Sangwon-hyung,” Sangheyon says. “Well deserved!”
While Leo claps a hand on Sangwon’s shoulder with exaggerated flourish, grinning like he’s presenting an award at a black-tie ceremony, “Once again, flawless performance!”
“Should we just start planning your victory party now?” Geonwoo asks, leaning across the table with a bright smile.
Anxin starts chanting “Party! Party!” until it ripples around the table.
But Sangwon just waves both hands in a panic, his face flushing pink as he says, “You guys—no, it’s not guaranteed, it’s—”
“Actually!” Junseo interrupts, his voice louder than any of the others in the room. So much so that it shuts the room down immediately. “Actually, Sangwon can’t win this month.”
Leo’s hand drops from Sangwon’s shoulder, confusion clear on his face as he asks, “Why not?”
“You can’t just… ban Sangwon from winning,” Anxin says, scandalized. “That’s like banning the sun from shining.”
“Wait… why can’t I?” Sangwon pouts. “Did I do something wrong? Or—Is this because I worked too much overtime again? Junseo-hyung, I really didn’t mean to, but Jiahao-hyung’s great-aunt twice removed was sick last week and he asked me to cover for him, so I—”
“No, no, Sangwon, you’re perfect as always,” Junseo cuts him off before he can spiral, “It’s just that this month… there’s an extra prize. A prize that Sangwon can’t win.”
Sangwon still frowns, his confused face adorable enough that Junseo briefly considers giving in and letting him just keep his reign as Employee of the Month, before remembering that corporate is very much on his ass about this one, and he really doesn’t have a choice other than to guarantee that anyone other than Sangwon wins employee of the month.
“Well, what’s the prize then?” Leo asks.
“The prize for Employee of the Month is,” Junseo says, pausing for dramatic effect. “A date… With Sangwon!”
“…Wait, what?”
*
“Oh—oh, is this thing on already?” In the back office, the camera wobbles as Junseo leans in too close to the lens as he says, “Oh wow. Okay. That’s really… Huh, corporate really spared no expense with these, did they? Sorry, anyways.”
Junseo leans back in his chair.
“So, uh… as you already know. Corporate’s been on my ass. That’s why we’re doing this whole,” he pauses, vaguely waving his hand towards the camera in front of him, "Evaluation thingy.”
Junseo laughs a little nervously while looking at the camera at that.
“They say it looks… unrealistic that the same employee has won every month since… oh, I don’t know… The dawn of time.”
Junseo gestures to the wall behind him with twelves frames on it, each above a plaque with a month and year, and the words ALD1 Employee of the Month. Every frame is filled with the same photo of Sangwon, smiling serenely at the camera.
“The problem is, other than Sangwon, everyone else kind of sucks at their jobs,” Junseo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Which is why I thought, with a little motivation, maybe I could inspire someone—anyone—to give at least a decent day of work.”
Junseo reaches forward to grab the paper cup of coffee in front of him, takes a drink and immediately grimaces.
Then he looks directly into the camera, eyes hollow, and says, “Pray for me.”
*
“Right, okay, let me just—” Junseo says, flipping the page on his clipboard over dramatically, “Lay out the rules. The competition will be judged on three things: most sales, best store behavior, and overall performance.”
“So basically… be Sangwon,” Leo asks.
Junseo opens his mouth, closes it, then nods. “…Well. Yes.”
Sangwon covers his face with both hands, ears turning pink under all the attention that’s being sent his way.
“And I know that sounds like an impossible standard to live up to! But!” Junseo says, desperately trying to motivate the group to want to win the coveted Employe of the Month position, “This is an opportunity for all of you to rise up to the challenge! So let’s get out there and make this… a great ALD1 day!”
He claps once, sharply.
The sound echos loudly off the walls back to him, when not a single person claps back.
Junseo’s shoulders slump. “…Alright, well, meeting dismissed.”
The crew disperses with varying levels of muttering.
“I already know what I’m wearing on our date,” Anxin leans toward Sangwon, whispering much too loudly for it to even be considered subtle.
“I-I don’t think that’s—”
“In your dreams, pretty boy,” Leo says, “If anyone’s taking Sangwonie on a date, it’s me.”
“Hyung! You think I’m pretty!?” Anxin shoots back with a smile.
“Ohh, you two should date, and then I can take Sangwon-ah on a date,” Jiahao says.
But before he can, Geonwoo swoops in, lacing his arms through Sangwon’s and tugging Sangwon along with him, “Dibs.”
“Hey! No fair!” Anxin protests.
“Oh, sorry, Anxinie,” Geonwoo replies, smug. “Did you already call dibs? Because I didn’t hear anyone else call dibs.”
“No ones calling dibs,” Junseo protests, “That’s not how this works! You have to earn the prize!”
*
“I mean,” Sangwon says, voice soft and careful, “I don’t mind being… the prize? It is a little weird that Junseo-hyung didn’t ask me first, but...”
He sits primly in front of the camera, his posture is nearly perfect, and hands folded neatly in his lap. The picturesque of a perfect employee.
Sangwon tilts his head, as though considering something for a second longer, before adding, “But if it motivates everyone to do a better job, then… that’s okay!”
*
“Finally, my time to shine,” Anxin announces. “A date with Sangwon and Employee of the Month? Two-for-one deal, baby! Just like the frozen dumplings aisle!”
He follows that up by clicking his tongue and then shooting finger-guns at the camera with both of his hands.
His elbow knocks into the armrest, as he does so, but Anxin doesn’t flinch, instead he just winks so enthusiastically as if that had been all part of his plan.
“There’s no way I’m losing!”
*
“Look,” Leo says, dismissively, “I don’t need workplace validation and Employee of the Month. I come here, I do my job, I leave.”
Leo stares at the camera for an uncomfortably long moment, before he lets out a slightly annoyed sigh.
“But if winning keeps a certain someone away from Sangwon, then yeah, okay, whatever,” Leo shrugs, “I’ll win.”
*
“A date with Sangwon?”
Geonwoo leans forward like he’s about to tell the camera a secret, elbows propped on his knees. His eyes glimmer with the kind of mischief usually reserved for cartoon villains, or… car salesmen, about to scam someone into buying a used Honda CRV.
“Please. Too easy. I’m the best salesman out there. The rest of these losers don’t stand a chance.”
*
Lines snake at the registers, as if somehow every customer in the building has concentrated themselves into the checkout lanes.
Something that Junseo can’t help but attribute to the fact that currently, his two best cashiers are in a competition to one up each other. A competition that, to be fair, Junseo had put them up to, but… Still.
Junseo watches with mild horror as Leo stands at Register One, moving like a man on a mission. He grabs a customer’s bread and slaps it into a bag with little care for the bread’s structural integrity. The rest of their precious groceries don’t fare much better.
“Oh wow,” Leo says smugly, and loud enough that Anxin, working at Register Two, can clearly hear him, “Look at that. I just bagged your entire order in thirty-two seconds. That’s…” He pauses for effect, holding up the customer’s receipt like it’s a medal. “…Employee of the Month speed.”
“Uh, thanks?” the customer replies hesitantly.
“Did you see that, Sangwonie,” Leo says, shouting over to where Sangwon is, a few aisles away, minding his business and stocking shelves.
Sangwon doesn’t notice, but Anxin does.
Because he leans over the counter from Register Two, to shout out, “Pfft, thirty-two seconds? Amateur hour! Watch this!”
He attacks his conveyor belt with a near dangerous speed, swiping items so fast the scanner can’t keep up, a chorus of error beeps screeches with every other motion.
The customer in his lane clutches her purse tightly to her chest, her eyes going wide as she asks, “Um… is it supposed to—?”
“Yes,” Anxin says immediately, flashing a set of finger guns. “It’s a speed tactic! Don’t worry, I’ll fix it later!”
He does not, in fact, 'fix it later'.
Instead, he checks his customer out without scanning half the items. Junseo makes a mental note to take those out of Anxin’s paycheck later, as he calls out, “Anxin, please make sure to scan every item the customer is purchasing properly.”
“Sorry, hyung! I’ve just got a need for speed! Gotta drive to the top!” Anxin replies, miming out driving a car with his hands, before he turns to the next customer, keeping up the same aggressively fast pace. “Ka-chow!”
“Don’t worry, Junseo-hyung,” Leo says loudly, “Unlike some people, I actually know how to do my job.”
He yanks open a plastic bag with a dramatic flourish, the plastic snapping in the air like a flag in battle, then while making direct eye contact with Junseo, he double-bags each of his customer’s items with exaggerated care, continuing to flap each bag for maximum flair, practically preening as he sets items down like they’re trophies.
Which, at least, is better than when he had been racing Anxin a moment before, so Junseo will take what he can get.
Resolving to let the two of them continue with their competition, Junseo turns towards Register Three, where Jiahao leans against the counter, not even paying attention to the customer in front of him. He’s watching some drama on his phone, one earbud in his ear.
His customer looks around, slightly confused, before she then sighs and starts bagging her own groceries.
“Uh,” she asks tentatively, “do I just… swipe my card?”
“Mhm,” Jiahao doesn’t look up from his screen. He waves his hand vaguely, while his eyes are still fixed on the drama playing on his phone, “You’re doing amazing, babe.”
The customer shrugs, before she swipes her card, bags her own eggs, and leaves with a more than slightly confused look on her face.
Junseo sighs, regretting every life choice that led to him getting a job as a manager at ALD1, as he says, “Jiahao, can you—”
“I’m taking my twenty,” Jiahao calls lazily, as he turns off the light on his register. Proceeding to ignore the customer who has already set her groceries down. He then tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes off the counter, and stretches like a cat in a nice sunny patch. “Sorry, babe, you’ll have to get into one of the other lines.”
“Jiahao—”
“You’re not going to deny me my break? Are you?”
Junseo’s eyes flicker to the cameras following them around, the last thing he needs is for corporate to hear that he’s denying people their breaks. Even if it’s only nine in the morning, and nowhere near close to when Jiahao should be taking his break.
When he looks back at the register, Jiahao is already gone, as if he’d disappeared into thin air.
He lets out a long weary sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, before he calls out, “Can someone cover Register Three?”
“I’ve got it, Junseo-hyung!” Sangwon straightens from where he’s been shelving soup cans, raising one hand like a kid eager to answer a question in class.
Junseo swivels toward him, “No. Not… you!”
He shakes his head, clipboard flapping at his side.
The last thing he needs is Sangwon to be even more perfect than he already usually is. No, today it’s time for someone, literally anyone else to shine.
“Sangwon-ah, you go do a bad job somewhere, please,” Junseo says, waving him off. “Anywhere. Literally anywhere. Go mess something up.”
“You want me to do a… bad job?” Sangwon blinks, confused, his hand lowering slowly.
“Yes, for once in your life, go mess something up,” Junseo’s voice cracks halfway between desperation and a plea to the heavens. He turns back toward the registers with the air of a man who’s already lost, sliding in to take over Jiahao’s abandoned register, “God forbid he accidentally wins this thing again.”
*
“Corporate said that if Sangwon wins again, they’re transferring me to ALD2,” he says flatly. “I didn’t even know there was an ALD2.”
Junseo glances out the small office window to the store floor, where Anxin and Leo are still going at it. He watches with a grimace, as Leo winds up a roll of receipt paper like a football and hurls it across the lanes, narrowly missing Anxin’s head and instead knocking into a display of breath mints. The mints clatter to the floor at the impact dramatically, however, neither Leo nor Anxin make any moves to pick them up.
He laughs once, sharp and humorless, then stares into his empty coffee mug as if it’s a crystal ball showing him his grim fate, his shoulders sagging.
“…On second thought,” he mutters, voice thin, “Maybe ALD2 wouldn’t be so bad.”
*
In Aisle Three stands a perfectly arranged pyramid, stacked with boxes of penne, fusilli,and linguine, that gleams like some monument to carbohydrates. The pyramid is the kind of thing you could imagine in an art museum with a plaque: “Pasta, 2025. Medium: boxboard, starch, despair.”
When Junseo walks into the aisle to see that yet again, Sanghyeon has dedicated his time to crafting intricate displays rather than simply stacking the shelf, all Junseo can do is let out a resigned sigh. He supposes, technically, he hadn’t said that Sanghyeon couldn’t make any box pyramids, just thrones, so that was an oversight on his end.
He’d have to be more clear at the next morning meeting.
Xinlong stands in front of the box pyramid, surveying it with a far too mischievous tilt to his lips.
One that makes dread pool in Junseo’s stomach, as he watches with dawning horror as Xinlong bends down to the bottom of the stack, reaching out for one of the boxes of penne.
“Xinlong, don’t!” Junseo calls out.
But Xinlong does not even react to the sound of his voice, instead, he eases the box out with a slow and delicate maneuver that causes the structure to wobble a little in protest, but thankfully not topple over.
However, the look on Xinlong’s face doesn’t fade, if anything, he just seems to examine the structure for another box.
“What are you doing?”
“Online orders,” Xinlong replies, holding up the tablet in his hand to show that a customer had submitted an online order for four boxes of penne pasta.
“There’s more penne on the shelves over there,” Junseo says, trying to steer him away from Sanghyeon’s creation. “Why don’t you grab those instead?”
“Nah, these boxes look nicer.”
“Xinlong, please,” Junseo all but begs, “You’re the only other good employee I have. Don’t do this to me, just go get the pasta from over there and—”
Junseo never gets to finish his sentence, because Xinlong finally looks away from the pasta pyramid to look straight into Junseo’s eyes, and then with all of the energy of a stray cat, he presses one hand against the middle of the display and shoves.
The pyramid collapses at once, hundreds of boxes of pasta noodles fall to the floor in a deafening roar, until the entire aisle is a wreckage of pasta products.
From the other end of the aisle, Sanghyeon appears, his face already pale in horror as he takes in the scene of his pyramid, gone.
“Noooo!” he wails, clutching his hair. “My masterpiece!”
Sanghyeon rushes forward, dropping to his knees amongst the fallen boxes of pasta, scooping one uncrushed box of rigatoni into his arms.
He cradles the box to his chest, rocking back and forth, like a baby.
“How could you? I stacked them… with love.”
*
“I’ve been working here for seven years,” Xinlong tells the camera, “And I’ve never once won Employee of the Month.”
Xinlong laughs a little to himself as he speaks.
“And do you know why that is? Well, studies have shown if you’re too good at your job, you get given more work, more shifts, more responsibilities. I mean just look at Sangwon-hyung. They overwork him to the bone, because he’s good at his job! So once a month,” he continues, “For the spice, I do a terrible job. Just to remind Junseo that I am not to be trusted with power. And you know what? Works like a charm.”
Xinlong gestures out the small window, to where Junseo is dragging a broom across Aisle 4 to try and sweep up all the pasta noodles that had escaped their boxes during the pasta pyramid’s collapse.
“And honestly? I have no interest in a date with Sangwon. The prize sucks.”
There’s a beat of silence, then a voice off-camera asks, “Is there someone you do have an interest in winning a date with?”
Xinlong stares into the lens, unblinking, for three solid seconds.
Before finally, he mutters, “No comment.”
*
Sanghyeon kneels on the floor, shoulders shaking, surrounded by toppled boxes of penne and fusilli. His hands tremble as he tries to restack them, but the pyramid keeps collapsing under the weight of his grief.
Junseo really should stop him and redirect him to putting the boxes of pasta where they belong, on a shelf, however he’s certain that any word word to Sanghyeon will cause him to start crying again, so he’s resolved to just leave him be.
And to hope that most of the customers just ignore the teenager sitting in the middle of the aisle surrounded by boxes of pasta and slowly looking like he’s losing his will to live. For the most part they are, nobody really wants to get involved with this mess, but a few linger at the edge nervously.
One of them clutching a coupon for rigatoni noodles in her hand.
Geonwoo sidles up to a bewildered customer with the kind of predatory glee usually reserved for sharks circling a wounded seal. Before Junseo can offer to help her find the noodles she needs, Geonwoo gestures dramatically toward Sanghyeon.
“Look at that poor, sad, orphan child,” Geonwoo says, “Do you want his little hands to tremble like that forever?”
The customer blinks, “What? No…?”
“Exactly!” Geonwoo agrees, as he slaps a pack of pasta into her hands, then another, and another.“Seven boxes, minimum, for the children.”
The customer nods weakly, terrified, as Geonwoo begins to pile the pasta higher and higher into her cart.
Junseo briefly glances away from where Geonwoo is swindling one of their customers as he catches sight of Sangwon slipping into the aisle. He goes and sits next to Sanghyeon with a smile on his face, and the calm demeanor of someone who was born to organize, help, and just generally solve all of humanity’s problems.
“Hey,” Sangwon says gently, crouching beside Sanghyeon. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix it together.”
Sangwon’s hands move to gather up the boxes and lead them over to the shelves where they belong, and Sangheyon sniffles, before slowly mirroring him, his grief softening as he finally puts the pasta noodles where they belong, on the shelves.
Meanwhile, the customer Geonwoo has been swindling produces the coupon she’d been holding before, “I have a coupon for rigatoni. I don’t need any penne or spaghetti noodles.”
Geonwoo snatches the coupon from her hand, his eyes narrowing, as he scrutinizes the paper, before informing her in a deadpan voice as if he was some sort of criminal detective rather than a minimum wage grocery store employee, “Actually… this is a coupon for ALDI. We are an ALD1 store.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” The customer asks with a frown.
“No. It’s distinctly different,” Geonwoo replies. “ALDI and ALD1 are not affiliated with each other in any way.”
“Can you… price match?” the customer asks, voice trembling slightly, gripping her cart, her eyes lingering on the mountain of pasta noodle boxes currently taking up most of her cart space.
“Unfortunately not.” Geonwoo says, with a vaguely threatening smile, “Store policy actually dictates that anyone who shows up using a competitor’s coupons must pay double the sticker price.”
*
“Technically,” Geonwoo begins, “there is no policy that says I can’t make a customer buy seven boxes of pasta at double the sticker price, but well…”
He waves a hand vaguely, as if dismissing the idea that legality or rules exist at all.
“Sometimes,” he continues, “I like to see how easily I can get the customers to fall for false sales. Nine out of ten times, it works. And well, the extra sales money can always go toward buying snacks for the break room. You know… good for the team spirit. Is it morally wrong? Maybe.”
He pauses, shrugging lightly.
“But so is naming your grocery store ALD1 when ALDI already exists and has been around for decades… with the sole purpose of tricking people into coming to our store.”
Geonwoo leans back, arms crossed, a smug smirk spreading across his face.
“So corporate can suck my—”
*
“You know, actually though, if you buy twenty boxes, it reverts back to the sticker price,” Geonwoo says, adding more pasta to her cart, “So you might as well go all the way, you’re basically getting ten free if you think about it.”
“Uh I…”
“Oh, hi ma’am, so sorry—” Sangwon says, sliding between Geonwoo and the customer, to remove the extra boxes of pasta from her cart and hand them off to Sangheyon. “There’s actually a limit of two per person today.”
The customer exhales, relief flooding her face.
“Thank you,” she whispers, almost reverently.
Geonwoo’s jaw tightens, as he watches Sangwon bow slightly, eyes warm, and guides the customer out of the aisle, not even glancing at Geonwoo.
It’s then that Sangwon notices a small figure, sitting at the end of the aisle, a little girl, teary-eyed, clutching a half-eaten granola bar.
“Are you lost?” Sangwon asks gently, crouching to her level.
The girl nods, “I lost my mommy when the big tower fell,” she explains.
“Well then let’s go find her,” Sangwon says as he takes her small hand with care, and then he moves through the store with her until he reaches the check out lines. Moments later, they reach the produce section. Sangwon kneels slightly, pointing ahead.
“There she is,” he says cheerfully.
The girl runs into the arms of her frantic mother, who grabs her tightly, tears streaming, and mouths “thank you” over the child’s head.
Sangwon stands back, waving lightly, modest and sweet, as though this is just another Tuesday, which to be fair, for Sangwon it sort of is.
“All in a day's work, ma’am!”
“Sangwon-ah,” Junseo calls out, catching his favorite employee’s attention. “Remember you’re supposed to be doing a bad job today!”
“Oh right! Sorry!” Sangwon says, nodding his head quickly, he looks around hesitantly as if trying to find something to mess up, before purposely picking up a candy bar from one of the check out displays and putting it in the wrong section of the display.
He then shoots Junseo a bright smile and the thumbs up.
Though a moment later, guilt tugs at his features, and when Junseo turns back around to go see how things are going in the back of the store, Sangwon immediately picks up the chocolate bar again and returns it to its proper location.
*
“Do you know what it feels like to actively root against your best employee?” Junseo asks. “I feel like… like a parent booing at my child's school play.”
Junseo stares at the camera for an unbearably long beat, as if waiting for some cosmic sign that it’s all going to be okay. Then, from somewhere in the store, a loud crash echoes.
“NOT AGAIN!” Sanghyeon yells.
Junseo just sighs, rubbing his temples, and mutters under his breath, “I should have gone into finance.”
*
Much to Junseo’s dismay, the checkout lanes are still stacked with customers when he returns to them. Customers are impatiently clutching carts and baskets, and instead of checking anyone out efficiently, Register One and Register Two are locked in their own personal war.
The tension between registers One and Two had not even slightly decreased in the time he had been away attending to the pasta disaster, if anything it increased.
Junseo watches while at Register One, Anxin continues to ring up items with high speed and little care if he actually manages to scan everything. When the customer hands over cash, Anxin leans forward with an exaggerated flourish, forming his hands into finger guns and firing them across the checkout lane to where Register Two is.
“Pew! Another one bites the dust,” he chirps, shooting the imaginary bullets Leo’s way.
The customer he had been helping forces a polite smile and scurries off with their receipt. Meanwhile, from Register Two, Leo glares at him, as he slams a bag of potatoes into a customer’s tote bag.
Then he turns to Junseo, and shouts, “Did you see that?! He’s threatening me! That’s a threat!”
Junseo, clipboard clutched in both hands, and mutters, “Please, not today…”
Leo doesn’t let it go.
He turns to Geonwoo, who is lounging against the candy rack watching the whole disaster with mild amusement, “You saw it too, right? Tell him that’s workplace violence!”
Geonwoo chews slowly on a Twizzler he definitely didn’t pay for, eyes glittering with predatory amusement, “I didn’t see anything.”
“What the hell—”
Before he can finish, Anxin snaps his hands up again, twin finger guns now aimed directly across the registers.
He mouths “Pow!” with exaggerated gusto.
Leo’s entire body stiffens like a spring, he slams his palm flat on the register counter with a loud thwack. The customer in front of him drops their pack of eggs in fright.
“Junseo-hyung, did you see that?! He’s doing it again!! He’s threatening violence!!”
*
“It’s so fun competing with Leo-hyung!” Anxin says brightly, his one cheek dimple deepening when he smiles.
He then lifts both of his hands and fires off even more finger guns at the camera, complete with enthusiastic "pew-pew-pew" noises, as he twirls around in the interview chair.
“I’m so glad me and Leo-hyung are friends!”
*
“Okay, everyone stay calm, this is fine! This is a normal grocery store, not a circus! This is a normal... Oh god!"
But ALD1 is anything but normal.
Because after ringing up another customer, Anxin lifts both hands and fires off another pair of finger guns. He mouths the word “pow!” slowly, and winks at Leo for good measure.
Across the aisle, Leo finally snaps, slamming his scanner down on the counter so hard the poor customer in front of him jumps back in suprirse.
“That’s it!” Leo exclaims, pointing furiously at Anxin. “I’m not tolerating this anymore!”
“Oh?” Anxin gasps theatrically, eyes wide in faux innocence, “You wanna duel, hyung?”
He raises his finger guns again, this time both hands cocked and ready.
He spins them dramatically, like he’s in some Western shootout.
The customers in his line actually gasp, in a mix of confusion and entertainment.
From his position still by the candy rack, Geonwoo straightens up with a gleam in his eyes. He grins, as if thinking to himself that with Leo and Anxin fighting, the Employee of the Month award is all but his.
“Yes!” Geonwoo cheers, “Violence! Violence in the workplace!”
“No! No violence in the workplace!” Junseo flails.
But, it’s too late, Leo is already past the point of no return. Junseo watches in horror as he suddenly vaults out from behind his register. His apron flaps dramatically as he charges down the lane like a linebacker.
“YAH! You think this is funny?!”
“Very!” Anxin replies, delighted, before he dashes away from the register, his sneakers squeaking against the polished store floors. “Catch me if you can, hyung!”
The customers gasp as the two of them dart past, and Junseo’s pretty sure he sees one whip out their phone to start recording, but he’s choosing to pointedly ignore that as he scrambles after them.
"No running! No chasing! No—oh dear god, what are you doing?! ” He isn’t sure what Leo will actually do if he catches Anxin, and frankly, he’s kind of terrified to find out, because there's no way this doesn't end in a complete disaster, and frankly... Junseo has had enough disasters for one day.
The chase continues down the aisles, narrowly missing carts and startled shoppers.
One customer shrieks as Leo hurdles their shopping cart across the aisle in his desperate attempt to catch up to Anxin, while their children begin to clap excited by the chase. Everyone caught up in a mix of horror or amazement.
And then... they reach Aisle Three.
It happens in seconds.
One moment, Anxin is laughing over his shoulder instead of watching the floor, and the next, he plants his foot squarely on one of the pasta boxes still lying out from the remains of Sanghyeon’s pasta pyramid. His sneakers skid on the box and he flails as he goes his arms windmilling around him, feet sliding forward until, “Whoa—!”
Leo is too close behind to stop, and Junseo watches in horror as he crashes directly into Anxin’s back, and the combined collision launching Anxin forward so hard that he slams into a half-abandoned shopping cart. The cart tips, its handle catching just wrong, and the force catapults both of them straight into the newly rebuilt pasta pyramid Sanghyeon had stacked with tender care only minutes ago.
And then—CRASH!!
The pasta pyramid falls apart, collapsing in a cardboard avalanche. Boxes explode outward in a slow-motion spray, ricocheting off shelves, bouncing across the tile.
“NOOOOOOO!” Sanghyeon clutches his head in horror as the pasta pyramid that he had been carefully rebuilding crumbles before him. “My… my beautiful pyramid…” he whispers hoarsely. His shoulders shaking, looking very much on the verge of tears again, “I spent… forty-seven minutes…”
Meanwhile, Anxin sprawls out happily in the wreckage of Sanghyeon's pasta pryamid. There's penne scattered out like confetti around him, from one of the explored boxes, and with a laugh he makes a snow angel in the pasta noodles on the floor.
“That was so fun!” he chirps, utterly oblivious to Sanghyeon’s pasta-induced breakdown. He tilts his head up at Leo with a wide grin. “We should do that again sometime!”
“Fun?!” Leo sputters.
“Yeah, Leo-hyung, weren’t you having fun?” Anxin asks innocently, tilting his head with the wide puppy-like curiosity. Looking very much like a golden retriever that had just transformed into a human. The puppy dog look is cute, and normally Junseo's weakness when it comes to Anxin making a mess of things.
And apparently... It isn't only his weakness.
Junseo watches in real time as Leo’s scowl softens, and then against all logic—turns into a rather pleased grin.
“Yeah,” Leo admits, sitting up and brushing penne from his lap. “That was… kind of fun.”
Junseo makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.
This is it!
The end!
The moment his managerial career crumbles much like all the rigatoni under his feet.
But before Junseo can contemplate finding a loophole in his contract that does let him quit his job, like a vision descending from the fluorescent heavens, Sangwon appears at the end of the aisle.
In one smooth, graceful motion, Sangwon stoops, offering his hands to Leo and Anxin. He helps them up as if they weigh nothing, dusts them off, and gives each a pat on the shoulder.
“Hey,” Sangwon says gently, voice low and soothing. “Let’s all take a breath, okay?”
Leo instantly nods, and Anxin gives a weak little pew-pew salute with his finger gun, then lowers his hand sheepishly under Sangwon’s watchful gaze.
“Sanghyeon-ah, we’ll help you fix the pyramid. Right, guys?” Sangwon says, though his tone makes it less a suggestion and more a holy decree.
Leo and Anxin, who have ignored every single instruction Junseo has ever given them all day, leap into motion at Sangwon’s word.
They carefully follow his directions, restacking pasta with precision and obedience, and for the first time all day, they look like actual model employees.
And the only reason is… because of Sangwon.
“You’re my hero, hyung,” Sanghyeon says, his voice awed as they all work to rebuild his pasta pyramid.
After a moment, Geonwoo and Xinlong step into help, and even Jiahao reappears, finally finishing his two hour long break, to help rebuild the pyramid of pasta that is still very much against regulation.
But they all look so happy rebuilding it that Junseo doesn’t have the heart to stop them.
He just sighs, picking up one of the slightly dented boxes of penne noodles and asks, “Where does this one go?”
*
“I told myself…” Junseo says, his voice wobbling a little. “…anyone but Sangwon.”
Junseo grips a stress ball tightly in his hand, squeezing it slightly, as he takes a few settling depth breaths.
“And then he…” His lips twitch, caught between despair and hysteria. “…He saved the store. How can I honestly choose anyone else?”
*
“Well. The votes are in.” Junseo announces to the gathered group of ALD1 employees. His tone is drained flat, as though he’s being forced to read his own death warrant aloud., “The results have been… tallied. And, uh—congratulations to this month’s Employee of the Month…”
He opens the folder with little care to be dramatic about it.
And announces, “Sangwon, again.”
Geonwoo groans dramatically, collapsing backward into a chair like a stage actor dying in battle. “Oh, come on!”
While Anxin claps his hands grinning from ear to ear, “Yay! Sangwon-hyung! Let’s go!”
The chant rises quickly and unanimously, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”
Sangwon, bashful as ever, stands, smoothing down the front of his apron, his cheeks slightly pink as he steps forward to the front of the room.
“Wow,” he says, as he takes the Employee of the Month certificate from Junseo. “I’m really honored. I didn’t think I was allowed to win this month! But… I guess hard work really does pay off.”
The room bursts into applause, again.
“When I first started at ALD1, I didn’t know what to expect,” Sangwon says, his voice painfully earnest. “But every day, I’m reminded that this place is more than just a grocery store... it’s a family.”
Sangwon looks out at everyone else, pausing to make eye contact with each and everyone in the break room before he continues.
“And family means helping each other,” Sangwon continues, “Lifting each other up, and doing our best, even in the toughest moments.”
With that, he flashes a hesitant thumbs up Junseo’s way.
While Junseo does his best not to think about how mad corporate is going to be with him.
“So, thank you,” Sangwon finishes, bowing deeply. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you.”
There’s a scattering of applause as Sangwon bows.
“Well, thank you Sangwon for that lovely speech! Now, onto our other announcements—”
“Oh, Junseo-hyung, I’m not finished!”
*
“He gave a seventeen-minute acceptance speech. Seventeen minutes, I only know because Jiahao timed it,” Junseo tells the camera, “At one point he thanked the… hand sanitizer dispenser.”
He presses the heel of his palm into his temple, massaging it as if he thinks he can rub the memory of Sangwon’s speech out of his skull if he just rubs hard enough.
“Not gonna like, I think I blacked out somewhere around when he started rallying everyone to dance along to 'We’re all in this together’ but the High School Musical: The Musical: The Series version... We need to stop hiring theatre kids...”
Junseo pauses for a long moment, before he exhales sharply through his nose and slumps deeper into the chair.
“I guess… maybe next time I will just lie? Or pick someone’s name out of a hat?” Junseo hums, as if considering his options, “What corporate doesn’t know won’t hurt them, right?”
Junseo freezes, eyes shooting straight to the camera lens, horror dawning across his face.
“Wait, no! Can you delete that footage? Please don’t send this to corporate! I was joking! I was joking!”
*
“Honestly,” Sangwon tells the camera, his cheeks pink with warmth. “I just really love working here. It’s such a great team!”