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I’m Gonna Lose My Job (Again?)

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I mean, I kinda say this on a daily basis. “I’m going to get fired today.” But for good reason. I have reached my limit of taking bullshit. Mostly at work. Mostly with bosses and co-workers. Most recently, my immediate boss. She hasn’t even been in our store a year, but she got the job over me, who has been there for over three years. OK, OK, she has experience being in that position. Whatever.

In our store, we have this one register, home fashions, that gets few to no customers. So we sometimes just leave it closed/locked. If you’re the one scheduled to be at that register for the day, but there is no floater to cover lunches, then it’s your job to lock up the registers and cover lunches. Simple as that. It’s been that way the whole time I’ve been there. Well, one day, I was scheduled to be at that register, and there was no floater for lunches. My boss, R, called me on the work phone and said, “I know I didn’t say it on the [control/schedule] sheet, but you cover lunches today, OK?”

…Seriously? I’ve been here a shitton longer than you. I KNOW my fucking job.

OK, OK, that’s not too awful bad. But she does this shit all the time. Directing us and telling us what to do when we already know what the fuck to do.

The other day, I had a customer issue that I literally could not solve with my status as lowly little cashier. I needed a manager to handle it. So, I called a manager over. She calls the phone and asks what the problem is, etc. I can’t explain it very well because I have a line. She goes, “can’t you solve it yourself?”

…Now I’m pissed. I’ve been here over three years doing the same thing the whole time. If I could solve it myself, YES, I would fucking solve it myself. I’ve solved many a complicated issue in my time. On top of that, you’re my manager. If I need you, you fucking COME  OVER, no questions asked. That’s your job.

Oh, but it gets better.

We have this new girl, A. She’s naturally shy and anxious, and she took this job to improve her social skills and confidence. At the beginning of her FOURTH week (two of which were training), R goes up to her and says something along the lines of “Are you comfortable pitching credit? Because if you’re not, I need to know so I can schedule other people.” Are you fucking shitting me? This poor HIGH SCHOOL girl is working so hard to improve her shyness and come out of her shell, and you threaten to cut her hours because she’s STILL practicing pitching credit with confidence? That’s NOT how you encourage your cashiers to perform.

And now the icing on the cake. That’s right, R LIED to me.

The other day, one of the registers started massively slowing down. So I turned it off and turned it back on. On the first or second transaction, it started slowing down again. So I got a hold of R. She told me to turn it off and then back on again. I told her I already did and it still did this. So she told me to close it down properly for the rest of the day. I did. My back was turned helping a member, and when I was done, the bad computer had been TURNED BACK ON!!!

My other co-worker, Ax, told me that she thought R did it, because she was sure that neither she nor A had. Because all four of us had been at the register area. So, I’m fuming, and I made a HUGE-ASS sign. The one you see above. Laughed my ass off. Customer accused me of having weed. All good fun.

I then got to talk to A again. She told me that she saw R turn the computer back on. So now I’m furious.

Finally, R sees the sign. She asked me, “Who did that?.”

“Me.”

“Why?”

“Because someone turned it back on.”

“Who?”

I’ll let that sink in.

WHO?

WHO!!???

YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!!! DON’T GO AROUND TRYING TO LIE TO ME!!!!

OK, so. I have gone to the store manager twice about her. She forces us to go on 15-minute breaks when she tells us to. She plays favorites. K and Q take, oh, hour long lunch breaks. Half-hour 15s. She doesn’t bat an eye. I take a 15 right after my lunch (which no one had ever, ever told me was not allowed), and she yells at me. And not for the real reason you’re not supposed to do that. Because “they have to go in order.” Whoever went to lunch first takes their 15 first. Which is total bs because no one else gives a single fuck who goes on their 15 when. And, no, it is not an actual rule. It’s a “her” rule.

K often takes her lunch last, but she is the first to leave for the day. An hour before everyone else. How fucked up is that? Just because she gets tons of credits and is spoiled as shit and always gets her way. Oh, let’s not forget she’s late almost every fucking morning. She just likes taking her lunch late.

The store manager just brushes all my complaints aside. The first time, he said he would talk to her. That was at least a month ago, if not longer. Nothing has changed.

Every single thing that I have been told is expected of me coming into her position at a different store, she does the complete opposite. God forbid she ever have to cover any of her cashiers for any sort of break, or check out any customers out unless she can tell just by looking at them that they’ll get credits. I swear to God. She takes most weekends off, when we need her the most. Most holidays, she’s off.

I have had enough. I am literally about to blow up at R almost every single day I see her. Which is why I’m about to lose my job pretty much every single day. The store manager is NO help.

So, what did I do? Why might I lose my job even on my day off?

🙂

I called my store manager’s boss.

He’s coming to the store next week.

I can’t fucking wait.

🙂

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Posted by on October 13, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Things are Going Well

Quick update from my (New!) phone. Things have been going great lately.
First off, I got a new (free!) phone that I absolutely fell in love with. It’s really big, which I don’t like, but that’s a decent trade-off for the fun fonts, massive storage, more cases, massive storage, voice-activated camera, massive storage, and did I mention the massive storage? I have a ton of apps and still haven’t used 30% of my storage.
I got employee of the month at work. I got nominated by 2(!) separate managers and, dude, I got it! I got a neat pin and, what I’m most stoked about, I’m getting a free embroidered shirt!
One of my best friends evar is coming over on Wednesday. I’m beyond stoked. I haven’t seen her in forever and I really miss her. And my brother-in-law just shared his Netflix with us, so it’ll be frosting and full metal alchemist brotherhood together all night. I’m stoked.
I guess that’s all I have to update y’all on. And I kinda have some work to do, now. So see y’all later!

 
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Posted by on January 10, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Work and My Parents

I need to talk about the bullshit that happens at my work and how my parents tell me to deal with it.

I don’t deal with too much awful shit with my co-workers. Things could be worse. They could be a lot worse. But I’d be lying if I said things were peachy with me and all my co-workers. Off the top of my head, I can name three that really piss me off. Lately, K has really gotten on my nerves.

Now, I’ve been naughty. I’ve been waiting until my last fifteen minutes of my shift to take my fifteen minute break. I don’t leave. I hang around until the end of my shift. Oooh, I’m such a delinquent(sp?). This really pisses K off. Why, I don’t know. But she really gets on my case about it.

So what does K do? She goes to a manager and, luckily, without mentioning my name, asks if we’re allowed to do that. EXCUSE ME!? THAT’S NONE OF HER BUSINESS TO DO! It doesn’t even affect her!

And then she’s all “I’ll let you do it this time, but next time . . .” Oh, so now you’re going to boss me around, too?

That was her third strike. She’s done shit like this before. So I was pissed off my ass and went to the assistant store manager. I admitted what I had done, and asked to her to talk to K about her big-ass mouth. Because I’m not going to stand for K going around spreading MY business around. The asm agrees with me and promises to talk to her about it. And I promise not to wait until the last fifteen minutes of my shift to take my break anymore.

Now, I’m cooled down, but I’m still in a bit of a pissy mood. So I go to my parents looking for a little sympathy, right? Now, I really don’t think I’m gonna get it, knowing them. But I give them the benefit of the doubt. I start with my mom. What does she say? “People are like that. You gotta deal with it and be careful.”

So I don’t even bother with my dad. My mom tells my dad, so he ends up giving me advice anyway. “People see your happiness and get jealous and try their hardest to destroy it any way they can. It’s human nature.”

Human nature my ass. It ain’t in my nature.

I love my parents, I really do. But, God!

 
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Posted by on November 18, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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I’m Privileged, So I Don’t Have Problems (Part 1)

My life is great. I’m 24 living with my parents. Oh, sure, I could move out. If I went and lost my fulltime status in order to get a second and even third job. Have no energy to do any of them. Have no time to sleep. No time for myself or my writing. Nothing. And forget the fact that I have a mental illness. B does it with her mental illness. So obviously everybody can do it. I’m just spoiled, that’s all. And childish. I need to put on my big girl pants and break my back to move out.

I am so mad right now, you have no idea. Just because I have a bit of a coushie life doesn’t mean I don’t have real problems. Yes, I live with my parents. Because I’m drowned in student debt and a shopping addiction, among my other issues with depression. I literally and incapable of moving out right now. And most people my age ARE still with their parents these days. It’s called a SUCKY-ASS ECONOMY! Many people my age are just as drowned in student debt as I am and can’t afford to move out. Esp with apt prices the way they are. Even bad apartments cost about as much–if not more–than our monthly student bills. And what kind of jobs do you think we have with our hard-earned degrees? Flippin’ burgers.

I have depression. Because of that, I have no control over myself. I can’t keep my room/car nice and neat and organized. I can’t control my spending. I try. Dear God, do I try. But no one believes me because I fail at it. I struggle to care enough. ‘Cause I just don’t. Why bother? What’s the point?

Yes, it is their house. But that doesn’t give my dad the right to just take all my shit and throw it in the garage. That’s MY shit. And I actually USE that shit!

 
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Posted by on October 17, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Retail-Me-Not

It’s the full moon, I swear.

There are all these people out there that think they’re so high and important. Like we live to serve them and that they’re more important than the other customers. Well, reality check. We don’t and you’re not.

I hate when people come up to the register and ask to hold things. Like, “no, hold your own damn clothes or get a cart, lazy.” But sometimes there’s a good reason, so it’s OK. And at least they ask. I ask for their names so the MCAs won’t put their clothes away, because, y’know, that’s their JOB–to put clothes away that are just lying around the register area–and they go shop.

Then there are the people who are all “Oh, I’ll be right over here. You don’t need my name. I’ll just be right over here.” Uh, yeah, lady, I DO need your name because you’re probably NOT going to stay there, I’m definitely NOT going to be paying enough attention to your stuff to guard it from being put away, and you probably won’t be, either. See, I have other customers to give my attention to.

THEN, there are the people who just throw their stuff down and walk away. We had this couple that just threw their clothes down on the counter and walked away. Then came back and told us to add to the pile. THEN they asked if they could keep their personal things with me. I tried to tell him “no,” but he just argued with me. UGHHHH. No, that’s YOUR stuff, it’s YOUR responsibility, and it’s YOUR problem! This couple made me so angry. He continued on to keep changing his mind about whether he wanted rewards or not, so he got them, but my numbers went down. Oh, and at first, he tried to blame his not getting rewards on me. HA! I had it all SET UP to give you rewards, sir, and you said “no.” SO THERE.

And he kept asking if there was more of a discount. Uhm, you got clearance things at $3.99 a piece. “Yeah, but we got a lot of stuff.” Good for you. “Some stores do it.” Good for them. I have nothing to give you. “Nothing?” Nothing. “No discount?” No more discount. Get over it.

That was yesterday. Today, we had this crazy-ass lady. Ooh, I wanted to set her straight.

My one boss, when she comes to help ring, doesn’t really like to ring. She’ll help bag instead. Hey, it gets my job done faster. I had this big order, too. With lots of clothes and a hispanic couple. Let me give you the exchange as I remember it between my sweet boss and this crazy-ass lady in line.

Crazy-Ass Lady: Is that the only register open?
Boss: There’s one up by the mall entrance.
CAL: That’s not what I asked. I asked is that the only register open?
(I HATE when people say “that’s not what I asked”)

And then she argues with my boss about the registers being open, and she ridicules her. Saying it doesn’t take two people to ring out a person, she wanted a manager to ring her out, she only had one thing. Oh, and here’s the kicker. She was on her lunch break. DON’T GO SHOPPING ON YOUR BREAK, PEOPLE! DUH! If you do, be prepared for disappointment.

This lady went on about how my boss didn’t know who she was, and she was gonna have her job, she was gonna call and talk to a manager and all this bullshit. Omg, it was crazy.

Then, the poor woman, my boss had another lady who refused to wait in line. She asked my boss if she could check her out and my boss told her where the checkouts were. She’s like “I don’t want to wait in those lines.” Like, seriously!? People! Get over yourselves.

More ranting.

Rewards was down this morning. So everyone expected me to have an answer as to how to get their rewards on their purchase. Uhm, there’s nothing to do. Sorry. Not my fault. Take it up with rewards. “Oh, I did before, but it was a mess.” Not my problem.

People, stop shopping when you have to be somewhere soon. Seriously! This chick bought $400 worth of $3.99 clearance stuff and was all, “I’m in a hurry. Oh, take off the hangers.” WHAT? Seriously!? You don’t shop when you’re in a hurry. You come to the checkout, have a nice conversation with the cashier. The cashier offers you great deals. You politely accept or decline them. YOU DON’T SAY “I’M IN A HURRY”!!! I HATE people who are in a hurry. I just make you wait longer. :P.

Also, do not say “I just want to buy these. No clubs no nothing.” That is extremely rude and pisses me off. I’m offering you chance to better your life and you’re all, “Fuck you. I don’t care about you or what you have to offer, I just care about me.” Jerk.

Coupons.

I. Hate. Coupons.

They never work. People argue them to the death. I had a lady come in and complain because she was told there were no coupons online. Then she saw someone take a coupon off a phone for another customer. She was mad and wanted that discount. Uhm, we don’t know what coupons are out there. A lot of coupons are personalized. You have to have the coupon with you to get the discount. Duh.

I hate when people come up and ask for more discounts. Sometimes we have a coupon at the register. SOMETIMES. But these people will come up with clearance and ask for MORE. Uh, no! It’s already on clearance. You’ve already got the best deal there is.

People are crazy, man.

/endrant

 
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Posted by on October 8, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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What I Did on Thursday…Rock Bottom?

I kinda wanna write about it.

But I kinda don’t wanna write about it.

I kinda should write about it.

But I kinda shouldn’t write about it.

So, I guess, if you don’t wanna read about it, don’t read this.

If you don’t wanna report me to social services, but would feel obligated to, don’t read this.

So, I guess it’s time to tell you about it.

There were a couple factors that caused it. The first is minor.

I am sick of crying at work.

All I seem to do these days is cry. At work. Everyone at work is totally understanding about it, but it’s exhausting and embarrassing. I’m sick of caring.

The second reason is also minor.

The first reason I cried lately, was because of some chick at work. I had to pee, so I called R over to cover me, because she was the floater. She was walking up and said, “You’re lucky I’m coming over.”

I’m all, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like you.”

I tilt my head and have her repeat herself. Now, we all joke around all the time, so I’m really confused. I had never done a thing to her, not intentionally, anyway. She borrowed my charger the day before. But as I’m in the bathroom I decide she’s being serious. So I go up to her and ask, “What’d I do?”

It was a bitch to get out of her what I did. As she walked away she said, “A couple things. Basically, you’re a bitch.”

I know this is her problem. She’s the bitch and coward for not even facing me with her problems. She’s so unimportant. But something deep inside me still cared, and was severely hurt. Because despite everything I knew for a fact, I burst into tears. I called the ASM to come talk to me before I exploded; either in sobs or screams directed at R.

But that was all minor. The real, main reason? I’ll tell you.

I have a system. I have a system for almost everything. And if you disrupt my system, I get frustrated. It’s the ADD/Aspberger’s in me. So, I have a system for closing down the registers at night. But Sunday night, I really had to pee (I have to pee a lot during work. I drink like a camel). So, in order to avoid disrupting my system, I ran to the bathroom when my system allowed some time. Literally, there was only enough time for me to go, pee, and come back. As I was walking back, Q called me over. He had to use the bathroom. So I was frustrated, and I was jokingly making a big deal out of it. But I covered him.

He left his phone at the register, and it went off. I thought, ‘it’d be really funny to answer that on him. ….No, no it wouldn’t.’ But then the manager that was there said, “Answer it!” So I thought, ‘Oh, she thinks it’ll be funny. So it must be funny.’ Besides, it wouldn’t bother me much if someone answered my phone. Esp if it was a joke/”revenge”. So I answered it. It was his gf’s sister. I told the chick the truth, I was Q’s coworker and was playing a joke on him. She told me to tell him to call her back, and we hung up.

Two days later, the day after the R incident, I found out his gf broke up with him that night. Again, tears.

The next day I had off.

The day after that, I decided I was going to stop caring about work, so that I could stop crying there. So I took a Xanax. I was OK. Q walked by and glared at me when I wasn’t looking, and I took another Xanax. Finally, we ended up at the same register. The awkwardness and guilt was too much. I couldn’t take it. So I volunteered to go to the slowest register. The one where no customers come by, and you have nothing to do but think. And think. And think.

I kinda wanted to do it.

But I kinda didn’t want to do it.

I tried to find somebody to stop me. But I couldn’t find anyone. Couldn’t think of anyone to call (not that I’d be allowed to call anyone, anyway.) So I did it.

On Thursday, April 24, 2014, I took a total of 10 Xanax and 10 Acetaminophen.

I didn’t want to die. Just wanted the attention. The pity. I wanted R and Q to feel bad for what they’d done to me. I just wanted to go to the hospital where someone would take care of me and I could get away from everything for a few days.

I didn’t feel anything happening, so I went up to Q and told him that I was suicidal because of the whole situation. He tried to save his ass by being all, “Oh, no, don’t do that. We fight like this all the time. It’s really no big deal.” No one noticed anything wrong for the rest of the work day. I only know this because I don’t remember the rest of it. I may have asked a coworker if my eyes were dilated. But I’m not sure.

Apparently, I got home safely. I guess I hung around for a while. My parents didn’t notice anything. My friend was 20 minutes late coming over, so I figured she was going to be really late. So I decided I felt like masturbating. I went up stairs, laid down, got my pants down, and the next thing I knew it was 10:30 and my mom was calling me, telling me my friend was here.

My friend, A, noticed right away. But she’s a CNA, she’s trained to. She almost took me to the hospital. But for some reason (maybe I told her no, I was fine), she decided not to. A and I went to Wegman’s and apparently I was acting kinda weird, cuz she was telling everyone that I was just a ditzy person. Then we came back and had fun.

The next morning, after A left, I decided my parents had a right to know. I had debated telling them, because I knew what they would do. But they are my parents. So I told my mom. She remained calm all day. Then my dad got home.

YOU’RE GOING TO LOSE YOUR JOB! MY CAREER IS RUINED! HE’S GOING TO LOSE HIS GUNS!

Several days of lectures and yells. Oh, and new restrictions.

My boss found out about it. Apparently idiot-ass me told a customer. But she never addressed it at work. Only on fb.

I still want the attention. I still want the pity. So I’m quietly spreading the story around at work. Even though my store is the center of rumors, my story isn’t getting around very well. Just as well, I guess.

Apparently Q and his gf got back together. He spoke to me today like nothing had happened. So, things are getting better, I guess. But the meds still need fixing. Because I kinda wanna do it again. I still wanna go to the hospital.

I went on a shopping spree yesterday. I found relaxers. Particularly, hooka sticks. They’re e-cigs with hooka instead of nicotine (right?). They’re fantastic.

No, my parents don’t know about the hooka sticks. And they aren’t going to. My counselor might. Maybe. Or not.

I’m exhausted, now. I guess it was good I wrote about it. Do you hurt yourself? What are your reasons?

 
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Posted by on April 28, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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J is for Job

I hate my job.

OK, I don’t hate my job that much.

But I hate my job.

They treat me well. Mostly. They understand that I have depression. That sometimes I just need to cry before I can function. I get pretty much all the days off I ask for. My bosses are fun and funny and easy-going. My environment is as positive as a retail environment can be.

But it’s retail, for one. It’s not for me. It’s my Just Over Broke occupation. It’s not my career. But I feel like I’ll be stuck there forever. There, where they write you up for being sick. Where they pressure and pressure and pressure you to get credits and shops, etc. Where the store manager always seems to be yelling at or talking about you. I can’t deal with that thought. I don’t want to be a cashier all my life.

 
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Posted by on April 11, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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