Going Under
I almost lost my shit at work. I couldn't find these knickers that I was tasked to find. I'd been at it a good 20 minutes, I couldn't find the colour or the size and was a cunt hair away from losing my shit. I don't know what finally snapped in me but I grunted "Jesus fucking Christ!" in pure frustration with the stupid job, the stupid knickers and the rage of The Führer hanging over my head if I did not find said knickers. I understand that cancelling an order of an item(s) that we cannot find is the loss of a sale, but it's not a reason to lose our heads over it. I don't see why we just don't pull most of the shit from the stockroom before going out on the floor to look for items. It seems more time consuming and back-ass-wards, but who am I to really question? It would be a plus if the equipment we're to use actually worked. Some motherless fuck has stolen my favourite box-cutter and it's driven me up the wall. Who would have done this? I have an idea who, because this skank can't keep her mitts off anything that's not her's. I'm lucky it's a box cutter and not my Chubberpuffs. I might just have to cut her head off if she attempted that. (This isn't a threat.)
I'm more productive when I'm left alone. I like to be able to problem solve and get things together on my own without someone looming over me. I'm not a child. Give me a task and let me do it in the way that I want to. It will be done. The last few days at work, I've pretty much been left alone and I've been far more productive. I know what works well for me. I want to be a good employee. I take great pride in my work and I cannot stand not completing a task. I run a mental note of everything good and bad throughout the day and adjust the goal accordingly. I've found I like working the till. Despite my initial fears about having to interface with customers, it's more or less been a positive experience. There have been one or two tossers, but you'll always have that. I just give them an icy stare and they back down. I doubt they're really going to argue with someone heavily tattooed, tall and decked out in all black. One woman was about to tempt fate and was going to argue with me on one of the coupon policies. I stared down at her and she backed down. Pushy fuckers. I explained the policy does not work on certain brands and if she had an issue she could speak to a manager. I was so tempted to tell her to shove her Nike trainers up her arse, but I thought of Joe Pesci riding a unicycle and calmed down.
I don't know why I'm letting the small things get to me. Maybe it's the workaholic in me or the perfectionist. I don't want to be seen as a failure. Some people fear death. Some people fear clowns. I fear being a failure. And I've failed a lot of times in my life. Maybe it's part of the insanity that drives me. My therapist is no help. I've not been able to talk to her since May and I don't think I ever will be able to. Thanks for fucking me like every other woman I've come in contact with. And then she wonders why I'm a bit hostile and guarded with women? This kind of shit. And fuck yes, it does directly go back to my mother.
...
I almost lost my shit completely at work yesterday. I was alone to handle all the orders and these are timed. I asked management for help but I got nowhere. I was just being run ragged trying to find everything, pack it and get it out on time for someone to pick up at the store. Rather than have someone help me, I was told by the utter wankstain who was left in charge to "outsource it", "cancel it" and or "do what you gotta do." Outsource it? Where? To fucking China?! Way to give some real information. I was running around the store with Rockstar energy and Asia's "Heat of the Moment" pumping through my veins collecting items and digging through thousands of bras.
I was all sweaty and flustered trying to get everything found, things weren't scanning and I had to enter UPC codes. Some of the things looked like the items but weren't and then the device kept crashing or wouldn't connect to the printers. I threw thing down because I was tired of shit not working and just wanted to walk out. They expect me to handle all this on my own after a month of being there. It shows good faith I guess, but goddamn it give me some support. I don't know if anyone overheard my multi-language cursing festival as I ploughed through things. I've really had it up past my ass with the shit not working and still being expected to put out at 100%. I'm not paid that much and in all honesty, I don't give that much of a fuck.
No wonder I drink, it helps dull the edges of a shitty view. I can't say reality because everything feels fake still. I keep having these little breaks and diving headfirst into the past. It at slow times too, not just at work. I was stood waiting for a ride to work and all of a sudden the light shifted and I was looking back through time into a memory of me in the summer swimming with frogs in the river. I was ready to drive back into the water. It's a good thing I didn't or I would have collided with the pavement. And my therapist wants to cock yank me. Great.
I'm more productive when I'm left alone. I like to be able to problem solve and get things together on my own without someone looming over me. I'm not a child. Give me a task and let me do it in the way that I want to. It will be done. The last few days at work, I've pretty much been left alone and I've been far more productive. I know what works well for me. I want to be a good employee. I take great pride in my work and I cannot stand not completing a task. I run a mental note of everything good and bad throughout the day and adjust the goal accordingly. I've found I like working the till. Despite my initial fears about having to interface with customers, it's more or less been a positive experience. There have been one or two tossers, but you'll always have that. I just give them an icy stare and they back down. I doubt they're really going to argue with someone heavily tattooed, tall and decked out in all black. One woman was about to tempt fate and was going to argue with me on one of the coupon policies. I stared down at her and she backed down. Pushy fuckers. I explained the policy does not work on certain brands and if she had an issue she could speak to a manager. I was so tempted to tell her to shove her Nike trainers up her arse, but I thought of Joe Pesci riding a unicycle and calmed down.
I don't know why I'm letting the small things get to me. Maybe it's the workaholic in me or the perfectionist. I don't want to be seen as a failure. Some people fear death. Some people fear clowns. I fear being a failure. And I've failed a lot of times in my life. Maybe it's part of the insanity that drives me. My therapist is no help. I've not been able to talk to her since May and I don't think I ever will be able to. Thanks for fucking me like every other woman I've come in contact with. And then she wonders why I'm a bit hostile and guarded with women? This kind of shit. And fuck yes, it does directly go back to my mother.
...
I almost lost my shit completely at work yesterday. I was alone to handle all the orders and these are timed. I asked management for help but I got nowhere. I was just being run ragged trying to find everything, pack it and get it out on time for someone to pick up at the store. Rather than have someone help me, I was told by the utter wankstain who was left in charge to "outsource it", "cancel it" and or "do what you gotta do." Outsource it? Where? To fucking China?! Way to give some real information. I was running around the store with Rockstar energy and Asia's "Heat of the Moment" pumping through my veins collecting items and digging through thousands of bras.
I was all sweaty and flustered trying to get everything found, things weren't scanning and I had to enter UPC codes. Some of the things looked like the items but weren't and then the device kept crashing or wouldn't connect to the printers. I threw thing down because I was tired of shit not working and just wanted to walk out. They expect me to handle all this on my own after a month of being there. It shows good faith I guess, but goddamn it give me some support. I don't know if anyone overheard my multi-language cursing festival as I ploughed through things. I've really had it up past my ass with the shit not working and still being expected to put out at 100%. I'm not paid that much and in all honesty, I don't give that much of a fuck.
No wonder I drink, it helps dull the edges of a shitty view. I can't say reality because everything feels fake still. I keep having these little breaks and diving headfirst into the past. It at slow times too, not just at work. I was stood waiting for a ride to work and all of a sudden the light shifted and I was looking back through time into a memory of me in the summer swimming with frogs in the river. I was ready to drive back into the water. It's a good thing I didn't or I would have collided with the pavement. And my therapist wants to cock yank me. Great.
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