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MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE A KID TOO :V
BECAUSE THEN I MIGHT GET TO LEAVE EARLY FROM WORK LIKE EVERYONE ELSE :VVVVV
I'm not bitter, no. I am, sincerely, very happy that I got to leave work at my scheduled time today. It was not a good day. And I need to learn how to say the three magic words: "not my problem." Apparently, three years of retail has drilled it in my head that I should never refuse a request no matter how asinine or how much it might inconvenience me. :/
I opened, and was set to go until five. Mike was on the schedule, but apparently, he wasn't working? So I was by myself and I didn't realize it. And there were a few carts FULL of junk that needed to go back on the shelves. Some of the junk I recognized from Thursday, so, what? Did people not put anything away last night?
I did it. I started running back and forth carts and carts of nonsense. Every time I was done with one, two more would pop up in its place (or one would just have more shit dumped on top of it). Four hours, I did this.
Around one-thirty, I was called back to my counter for the umpteenth time, undoubtedly to answer someone's dumbass question that had NOTHING TO DO WITH FRAMING. No, I was pleasantly mistaken, but only for a moment. I spent the next TWO HOURS with the customer ("two hours" is the obscenely short version of the story. I don't even know how that happened). And I'm really glad that she decided to run out to the ATM to get money to pay for her crap because two more seconds and I wouldn't have had a job anymore. I would have either punched her in the face or cursed her out.
After the entire order went through -- after the two hours of measuring and color-matching and picking out shit -- she decided she wanted to CHANGE part of it. It's a good thing it turned out to be more expensive, or she would have made me do it, too.
AND THIS WAS AFTER I WAS ASKED TO CLOSE. For some reason, half the scheduled people called out -- and one said she couldn't stay because her mother wanted her home to watch her own kid (I actually yelled at her for that) -- and Sandy's kids were left home by themselves. Rosie was trying to make Sandy go home, and asked me if I could stay. I would get to have Monday off completely instead, but.... I don't know why I agreed. Maybe it was to have the two consecutive days off.
Hey, read this if you don't want to be my friend anymore! Children annoy me. They're as loud and obnoxious and ignorant as adults, but the kicker is that people make excuses for them because THEY DON'T KNOW BETTER. Not true? How many times have you heard, "Aw, he/she's just a kid!" Parents make me uneasy because they're associated WITH children; I can't talk to them because there's never a conversation where THEIR LITTLE ANGELS aren't mentioned. People who like children but don't have any don't even fucking deserve my attention. I have better things to bullshit about than DEMONSPAWN BRATS. And you know what else, everyone? SHUT THE FUCK UP. YOUR KID IS NOT CUTE AND YOUR KID IS NOT SMART, ESPECIALLY IF IT'S YOURS. FUCKING DEAL WITH IT.
So now you're probably angry at me -- or at least mildly irked -- for my cruelty, but you know what? It's true. I hate kids. I'd hate them more than cats, but I'm allergic to cats (or rather, there's no test to prove that I'm not allergic to children). Also, you can't blame me, since I blanked this shit out, and put a warning! You just don't want to be my friend anymore, I see how it is. T^T
*ahem* Chances are I wouldn't see Phill anyway, so I don't know who I was trying to kid.
It's a good thing I remembered that I have to open tomorrow. A double and an open, LOL. No. So I agreed to stay until seven. Around a quarter to five, Sandy told me she'd found a sitter (when?) and that I could leave when I was supposed to. Score.
YET I WAS STILL CONCERNED ABOUT WHY I COULD LEAVE WHEN I WAS SUPPOSED TO. WTF IS WRONG WITH ME.
On top of that, the less-than-wonderful side of my family is visiting -- no one told me this was going to happen! -- and it doesn't look like it'll be a short visit, either.
I'm FUCKING STARVING (this is gross, don't read it: my mom's not the greatest cook in the world -- which is half the reason I don't know how to cook -- but apparently, my sister is worse. My mom's spaghetti is edible, if overcooked, but my sister's! I just looked in the pot of noodles and there is a WHITE GEL sitting on top of it! When I asked her what had CONGEALED upon the noodles, she casually answered, "Oh, that's just the water." WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T SHE DRAIN IT. AND WHY DID IT CONGEAL?!?! I wanna fucking throw UP. Ungross: my soda needs more Irish/Puerto Rican in it). The internet was out when I came home. My party is level 67 and they still can't kill shit!
Batting a fucking thousand, seriously.
I'm not bitter, no. I am, sincerely, very happy that I got to leave work at my scheduled time today. It was not a good day. And I need to learn how to say the three magic words: "not my problem." Apparently, three years of retail has drilled it in my head that I should never refuse a request no matter how asinine or how much it might inconvenience me. :/
I opened, and was set to go until five. Mike was on the schedule, but apparently, he wasn't working? So I was by myself and I didn't realize it. And there were a few carts FULL of junk that needed to go back on the shelves. Some of the junk I recognized from Thursday, so, what? Did people not put anything away last night?
I did it. I started running back and forth carts and carts of nonsense. Every time I was done with one, two more would pop up in its place (or one would just have more shit dumped on top of it). Four hours, I did this.
Around one-thirty, I was called back to my counter for the umpteenth time, undoubtedly to answer someone's dumbass question that had NOTHING TO DO WITH FRAMING. No, I was pleasantly mistaken, but only for a moment. I spent the next TWO HOURS with the customer ("two hours" is the obscenely short version of the story. I don't even know how that happened). And I'm really glad that she decided to run out to the ATM to get money to pay for her crap because two more seconds and I wouldn't have had a job anymore. I would have either punched her in the face or cursed her out.
After the entire order went through -- after the two hours of measuring and color-matching and picking out shit -- she decided she wanted to CHANGE part of it. It's a good thing it turned out to be more expensive, or she would have made me do it, too.
AND THIS WAS AFTER I WAS ASKED TO CLOSE. For some reason, half the scheduled people called out -- and one said she couldn't stay because her mother wanted her home to watch her own kid (I actually yelled at her for that) -- and Sandy's kids were left home by themselves. Rosie was trying to make Sandy go home, and asked me if I could stay. I would get to have Monday off completely instead, but.... I don't know why I agreed. Maybe it was to have the two consecutive days off.
Hey, read this if you don't want to be my friend anymore! Children annoy me. They're as loud and obnoxious and ignorant as adults, but the kicker is that people make excuses for them because THEY DON'T KNOW BETTER. Not true? How many times have you heard, "Aw, he/she's just a kid!" Parents make me uneasy because they're associated WITH children; I can't talk to them because there's never a conversation where THEIR LITTLE ANGELS aren't mentioned. People who like children but don't have any don't even fucking deserve my attention. I have better things to bullshit about than DEMONSPAWN BRATS. And you know what else, everyone? SHUT THE FUCK UP. YOUR KID IS NOT CUTE AND YOUR KID IS NOT SMART, ESPECIALLY IF IT'S YOURS. FUCKING DEAL WITH IT.
So now you're probably angry at me -- or at least mildly irked -- for my cruelty, but you know what? It's true. I hate kids. I'd hate them more than cats, but I'm allergic to cats (or rather, there's no test to prove that I'm not allergic to children). Also, you can't blame me, since I blanked this shit out, and put a warning! You just don't want to be my friend anymore, I see how it is. T^T
*ahem* Chances are I wouldn't see Phill anyway, so I don't know who I was trying to kid.
It's a good thing I remembered that I have to open tomorrow. A double and an open, LOL. No. So I agreed to stay until seven. Around a quarter to five, Sandy told me she'd found a sitter (when?) and that I could leave when I was supposed to. Score.
YET I WAS STILL CONCERNED ABOUT WHY I COULD LEAVE WHEN I WAS SUPPOSED TO. WTF IS WRONG WITH ME.
On top of that, the less-than-wonderful side of my family is visiting -- no one told me this was going to happen! -- and it doesn't look like it'll be a short visit, either.
I'm FUCKING STARVING (this is gross, don't read it: my mom's not the greatest cook in the world -- which is half the reason I don't know how to cook -- but apparently, my sister is worse. My mom's spaghetti is edible, if overcooked, but my sister's! I just looked in the pot of noodles and there is a WHITE GEL sitting on top of it! When I asked her what had CONGEALED upon the noodles, she casually answered, "Oh, that's just the water." WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T SHE DRAIN IT. AND WHY DID IT CONGEAL?!?! I wanna fucking throw UP. Ungross: my soda needs more Irish/Puerto Rican in it). The internet was out when I came home. My party is level 67 and they still can't kill shit!
Batting a fucking thousand, seriously.
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TWO hours. what the shit
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Eww @ noodle starch - how did she even manage that? DX
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well i had to change a poopy diaper, but at least i made 40 bux
let's never have kids
Oh man, they tired me out and they were only really awake for 3 hours while I was there. At least they were mostly well-behaved, but I dunno how the hell I'd be able to handle an ADD kid, and I could possibly have one of those since my brother has it, along with some of my other relatives.
Anyway, now I wanna cook for you. I make delicious spaghetti and I always serve it with garlic bread. :B
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I am DYING to hear more about this "two hour" person..cause really, what the hell could they NEED TO TALK ABOUT for that long!? And OMG I hated restocking when I "worked" at Western Beef. Dumbass people who decide to leave almost an ENTIRE cart of junk cause they changed their minds...go to hell!! And take your damn groceries with you!!
Children: hate/love relationship for me...more hate than love though. I'd rather have them when they're at the age when they no longer cry and can wipe their own asses and know enough to not spew embarrassing junk about me in public because they have some sort of sentient concept of shame and decency...I think I might need a 10-12 y/o...my kids are gonna be effin' insane though...in a creepy "i don't speak but I'm staring at you and thinking things" kinda way...Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't hate my idiotic-future-children TOO much XDD.
Also, I learned to cook full hispanic meals at 12 years old...but hated doing it cause I was FORCED to, which is why I don't do it now..mehehehe laziness.. OMG I can't eat unpretty food. I'd be like, betch...do YOU want to eat that!? Google a 'how-to' cause cat's wouldn't even eat that. Trust me I've had this same cooking experience with MY sis...all they need is a smack in the head and to never be let near a stove ever again. XD
"Batting a fucking thousand, seriously." -Great ending to a hilarious post. I LOVE YOU VENUSAUR!
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