the strange planet inside my head
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rolling over and ass whuppins
it took me ten weeks, but i finally hit The Wall.
slept badly, woke with a headache that never passed until almost 9PM, an awake Digestive Monster prowling among my battered bowels, and no desire whatsoever to go to work. none. but to work i went. near tears, because i really felt youkie.
when i walked in there, two girls are working the front desk. cool, i thought. maybe i'll have a light night. before i even put my stuff down and remove my sunglasses, A (for what, i'll let you guess) jumped on me to help her with reservations. uh, hello? not on the clock yet.
i walked into the laundry room to clock in, head pounding like the Hammers of Lucifer, and i saw the laundry.
oh, fuck no. you're kidding me, right? two people on, and there's PILES of it.
a red haze descended, obscuring my vision. it was The Wall.
i signed in, went out to the desk, and straightened a bunch of stuff out, showed A what to do with those kinds of reservations, while Miss Youngin' (whom i trained for a couple of nights, remember?) looked on and was cut short by A when she asked a question. i'm boiling right along. git 'er done and git 'er out of here before i bitch slap her. srsly.
of course i got the download from Miss Youngin' later. just what i thought -- A was so far up Miss S.'s fanny she couldn't see daylight. i bet she's bucking for front desk manager or something. heh. good luck with THAT shit. i sincerely wish her well, but in the meantime, she's fucking me every night with laundry and she's not even buying me dinner or calling me "honey".
A leaves, Miss Youngin' starts on inventory as requested by Miss S., and i start in on the everlovin' laundry. two loads done and four more to do, it's hotter than the Ass Crack of Satan, my own ass crack is sweating, and i've had it. i bundled all the sheets that were done and folded (and have been sitting on the shelf for the better part of a week) but the rest i'm rollin' over, baby. this is The End.
****
i was also informed today there's a "mandatory" meeting on identity theft on friday at 2PM, an hour before my shift, and we will have the opportunity to purchase an identity theft kit (what, so we can steal identities?? i don't get it.) i said, i won't be making this meeting -- i'm leaving right after work and i have things to do before i start.
it's mandatory. if you don't go, you get a write-up.
write me up then, because i won't be there.
that's exactly what i said, because i'm not going. oh, i *could* make it, if i wanted. if that's what i wanted, i could. but you can stick that "mandatory" bullshit up your ass.
right up there with the laundry, as a matter of fact.
****
like a write-up is going to kill me. like a write-up is going to ruin the rest of my life. like a write-up is one of the worst things EVAH.
evidently, they have mistaken me for someone who gives a rat's ass.
****
sometimes, you have to let the Inner Snark out for some air. somehow, i don't think she's done yet.
i almost feel sorry for the next one to poke her.
the Big Bitch is out. let the ass whuppins begin.
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
slept badly, woke with a headache that never passed until almost 9PM, an awake Digestive Monster prowling among my battered bowels, and no desire whatsoever to go to work. none. but to work i went. near tears, because i really felt youkie.
when i walked in there, two girls are working the front desk. cool, i thought. maybe i'll have a light night. before i even put my stuff down and remove my sunglasses, A (for what, i'll let you guess) jumped on me to help her with reservations. uh, hello? not on the clock yet.
i walked into the laundry room to clock in, head pounding like the Hammers of Lucifer, and i saw the laundry.
oh, fuck no. you're kidding me, right? two people on, and there's PILES of it.
a red haze descended, obscuring my vision. it was The Wall.
i signed in, went out to the desk, and straightened a bunch of stuff out, showed A what to do with those kinds of reservations, while Miss Youngin' (whom i trained for a couple of nights, remember?) looked on and was cut short by A when she asked a question. i'm boiling right along. git 'er done and git 'er out of here before i bitch slap her. srsly.
of course i got the download from Miss Youngin' later. just what i thought -- A was so far up Miss S.'s fanny she couldn't see daylight. i bet she's bucking for front desk manager or something. heh. good luck with THAT shit. i sincerely wish her well, but in the meantime, she's fucking me every night with laundry and she's not even buying me dinner or calling me "honey".
A leaves, Miss Youngin' starts on inventory as requested by Miss S., and i start in on the everlovin' laundry. two loads done and four more to do, it's hotter than the Ass Crack of Satan, my own ass crack is sweating, and i've had it. i bundled all the sheets that were done and folded (and have been sitting on the shelf for the better part of a week) but the rest i'm rollin' over, baby. this is The End.
****
i was also informed today there's a "mandatory" meeting on identity theft on friday at 2PM, an hour before my shift, and we will have the opportunity to purchase an identity theft kit (what, so we can steal identities?? i don't get it.) i said, i won't be making this meeting -- i'm leaving right after work and i have things to do before i start.
it's mandatory. if you don't go, you get a write-up.
write me up then, because i won't be there.
that's exactly what i said, because i'm not going. oh, i *could* make it, if i wanted. if that's what i wanted, i could. but you can stick that "mandatory" bullshit up your ass.
right up there with the laundry, as a matter of fact.
****
like a write-up is going to kill me. like a write-up is going to ruin the rest of my life. like a write-up is one of the worst things EVAH.
evidently, they have mistaken me for someone who gives a rat's ass.
****
sometimes, you have to let the Inner Snark out for some air. somehow, i don't think she's done yet.
i almost feel sorry for the next one to poke her.
the Big Bitch is out. let the ass whuppins begin.
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
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