Mercadona Job Post Sparks Class Debate, Ends as Prank

Working at Mercadona is no longer a joke: it's the new milestone of "no fluff"

How much do you need to earn to be taken seriously in certain circles? This question runs through a conversation of 119 messages that starts with a supposed hiring at Mercadona and ends up as a reckoning over salaries, age, and social class. The initial message states it bluntly: for certain roles, just a high school diploma (ESO) and a driver's license are enough, and the author boasts about leaving behind their period of unemployment. From there, the bar shifts: anyone earning less than €1,500 a month better not speak to them.

The twist comes when the protagonist confesses that everything was a joke and that they actually spend their hours on a private World of Warcraft server. The general laughter doesn't prevent the matter from uncovering a more uncomfortable discussion: the gap between those with stable paychecks and those surviving on benefits.

How much Mercadona pays and why it's used as a yardstick

The Mercadona salary functions in the conversation as a status marker. One participant claims that the company they work for has a minimum wage (SMI) of €25,000 annually, a figure that exposes the €1,500 monthly minimum the protagonist demands to even address them. Another responds from the other extreme: €658 of Minimum Vital Income (Ingreso Mínimo Vital) plus a few cents in copyright royalties and some figures sold occasionally.

The comparison is not innocent. The interprofessional minimum wage (salario mínimo interprofesional) has become the battlefield where forum hierarchies are settled. Some argue that with a paid-off apartment, €1,500 is enough to be the boss: weed, all video games, streaming platforms, and brand-name Doritos. The problem, they add, is that you'll hate your coworkers, customers, and sometimes even your family. A life on track until death, they summarize.

Against that version, another message recalls that at 49 years old, they earn less and are still taking civil service exams. They tried submitting a resume to Mercadona, but at that age, they weren't called back. The bitter conclusion drawn is: value what you have.

Age as a hiring filter in food retail

The conversation leaves a data point rarely seen in job offers: food retail hires by age brackets. One participant states it clearly: at 40, supermarket chains won't hire you anymore. Another points out that it's easier to hire people with disabilities, opening a flank on tax incentives and reservation quotas.

The protagonist themselves had boasted that their position didn't require degrees or complicated things. Just a high school diploma (ESO) and a driver's license. The phrase, intended as provocation, actually describes the majority profile of restocking and delivery staff: basic education, schedule availability, and physical stamina. Nothing like the image of skilled labor some try to sell.

The contrast with those who do require studies is explicit. One message describes a technical role requiring knowledge of IT, video games, and tricks, where female colleagues from other sections constantly flirt. Pay varies greatly by section, and internal hierarchy is defended with professional arguments.

From "no fluff" to the private server: the joke that dismantles the narrative

The final twist is the most revealing. The author of the initial message admits it was a joke and that they weren't boasting because they were playing on a private World of Warcraft server. Laughter spreads through the thread, but leaves an uncomfortable residue: the supposed social mobility is dismantled in an afternoon.

The reaction is immediate. Someone replies that at 40, the chain won't hire you, but you can keep playing arcade shooters. Another points out that the joke was obvious and we should have known. The suspicion that everything was a lie looms from the start, when several messages ask for proof of the protagonist's work history.

The issue drifts toward identity verification. One participant recalls having had more jobs than Barbie and discussing several with graphic proof, while the protagonist never said anything about it. The question hangs in the air: What have you actually worked?

Robbing a supermarket: from daily calculations to checkout reality

The conversation diverts to more prosaic ground. Someone asks how much cash an average supermarket generates per day, considering most people pay by card. The figure thrown out, €100,000, is met with skepticism. The answer is sharp: to rob, you must go to supermarkets where many customers pay in cash.

The detail is amusing because it contradicts the vault-like image suggested by the question. The more modern the store, the fewer bills and more card terminals. The underground economy shelters itself in neighborhoods, not big-box stores.

Another message adds a curiosity: a neighbor stayed with the chain for 15 years, rotating between centers over time. They were one of the few of their profile in the area in the 90s. Geographic rotation and seniority sketch a career path that no longer exists.

Home delivery and the fine print of the role

The initial message mentions delivering human-grade pet food to homes as a job option for those with a driver's license. The reference to delivery opens its own chapter: last-mile logistics, shifts, and pressure per order. No one goes into details, but the general tone assumes it's hard work, poorly paid relative to effort.

The conversation also touches on the internal organization of stores. One message ironizes about the ham slicers' backsides at the checkout and the hours a student works to pay for university versus the voice of the warehouse supervisor. The supermarket hierarchy is portrayed without adornment.

The thread's close returns to the initial question. How much do you need to earn to be allowed to speak? The remaining answer is the usual one: it depends on who you're talking to. And whether you have your mortgage paid off.