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It's Payback Time. *heavy sigh*
For having actual days off this week, I have to work ALL DAMN DAY with only John, the evil misogynist Baby Huey-tyrant..No one else seems able to, or actually downright refuses to. Ineffectual in the rest of his life, he revels in ordering me around, and making me feel stupid. Self-styled master of the snide, condescending putdown, he fancies himself some elite overlord..obsessed with the most minute of details.
We all kinda laugh at him. I mean, *really*. If I was in my mid-forties and still lived with my parents and never even got my driver's license (::lofty eye roll:: "Aren't you finished YET? *exaggerated sigh* My dad's here..."); maybe I would need such an attitude to feel decent about myself, too. Come on. You guys all know the type. Pale and doughy and soft and round..small, piggish eyes with a bright pink cupid's bow riding brazenly and yet pristine atop a smooth acre of chins...small, delicate hands...ridiculous poof-hair that always seems to need washing...and that cheese smell.
I mean, DOOD. It's a fucking Dollar Store. Get off it.
God, I am a bitch, I know...but he just rankles me. Besides the above..a) The radio thing. Everyone listens to this one Station of the Gods..they are the best, and I can just barely get them in at home. They play string upon string of gems I have not heard in centuries, ones I didn't even know I had missed..nowhere else can one hear both Yes and the Clash..Pink Floyd and the Ramones and Gary Numan and CCR..in the same hour. The only way to get through the day there, seriously. Everytime I walk away..he sneaks up and changes it. To Easy Listening. I come back..and change it back. He says nothing, nor do I. This goes on ALL DAY. b) The way he talks to me in front of customers..I know he is just showing his own ass here, but it really pisses me off. Loudly..slowly..as if I am mentally challenged..with that thick, false, treacly singsong tone..as if it is beneath him merely to be in my presence. I was glad to find out that he apparently talks to *everyone* that works there this way..and some of them have been there for years, and actually know what they are doing. c) That cheese smell. d) The way he makes me get down on my knees to do spots on the floor. I would *die* before I let on that this makes me angry, and do it cheerily, energetically..Every. Damn. Time. I guess that is the only way he can get a woman on her knees in real life..e) The way he can be all the way at the other end of the store..and still staring at me. He turns his head the minute I look over, but come on. I mean, what does he think? That I am stealing? f) That cheese smell.
I could go on, but what is the fucking point? This is just extra incentive to find a 'real job', eh?
End of JohnRant.
Oh, and I work open to close again tomorrow..thank God for small mercies..not with him. And Monday, I have an interview.
For having actual days off this week, I have to work ALL DAMN DAY with only John, the evil misogynist Baby Huey-tyrant..No one else seems able to, or actually downright refuses to. Ineffectual in the rest of his life, he revels in ordering me around, and making me feel stupid. Self-styled master of the snide, condescending putdown, he fancies himself some elite overlord..obsessed with the most minute of details.
We all kinda laugh at him. I mean, *really*. If I was in my mid-forties and still lived with my parents and never even got my driver's license (::lofty eye roll:: "Aren't you finished YET? *exaggerated sigh* My dad's here..."); maybe I would need such an attitude to feel decent about myself, too. Come on. You guys all know the type. Pale and doughy and soft and round..small, piggish eyes with a bright pink cupid's bow riding brazenly and yet pristine atop a smooth acre of chins...small, delicate hands...ridiculous poof-hair that always seems to need washing...and that cheese smell.
I mean, DOOD. It's a fucking Dollar Store. Get off it.
God, I am a bitch, I know...but he just rankles me. Besides the above..a) The radio thing. Everyone listens to this one Station of the Gods..they are the best, and I can just barely get them in at home. They play string upon string of gems I have not heard in centuries, ones I didn't even know I had missed..nowhere else can one hear both Yes and the Clash..Pink Floyd and the Ramones and Gary Numan and CCR..in the same hour. The only way to get through the day there, seriously. Everytime I walk away..he sneaks up and changes it. To Easy Listening. I come back..and change it back. He says nothing, nor do I. This goes on ALL DAY. b) The way he talks to me in front of customers..I know he is just showing his own ass here, but it really pisses me off. Loudly..slowly..as if I am mentally challenged..with that thick, false, treacly singsong tone..as if it is beneath him merely to be in my presence. I was glad to find out that he apparently talks to *everyone* that works there this way..and some of them have been there for years, and actually know what they are doing. c) That cheese smell. d) The way he makes me get down on my knees to do spots on the floor. I would *die* before I let on that this makes me angry, and do it cheerily, energetically..Every. Damn. Time. I guess that is the only way he can get a woman on her knees in real life..e) The way he can be all the way at the other end of the store..and still staring at me. He turns his head the minute I look over, but come on. I mean, what does he think? That I am stealing? f) That cheese smell.
I could go on, but what is the fucking point? This is just extra incentive to find a 'real job', eh?
End of JohnRant.
Oh, and I work open to close again tomorrow..thank God for small mercies..not with him. And Monday, I have an interview.
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