It’s the final countdown!

I finally gave my actual written notice the other day.  I was very polite.  Let me summarize the letter for you:

Please accept this note (written on a stenopad in blue ink with the paper bits still hanging on the top like a disreputable Florida voting ballot) as notice of my resignation from Big Box Store.  My last day will be Feb. 20.  (Hur-fucking-ray!) This in no way reflects my experience with management (miserable bastards,  I am taking my money and running bitches) and only that I have an egregious amount of student loan debt (thanks for calling to remind me 4 TIMES A DAY Sallie Mae.  If only you’d put that much effort into actually processing my paperwork you wouldn’t have to call) and need to make more money (but thanks for the 40 cent an hour raise.  That Maserati is mine!). With kind regards (die, die, DIE!)

I was told in the same evaluation that gave me that stupendous raise if we ask every person if they want a store charge card we will get 5 attempts a shift.  Right.  Store management has no idea about the law of averages or the current state of the economy.  These are the same people that after 10 loyal years have probably made about an extra $5 an hour since they started.  Brilliant.  So then the gauntlet was thrown down.  I arrive for a shift and was told that I was in competition with another cashier.  Whoever got the most applications at the end of the shift won, get ready for it, a six inch sub!  Oh my gosh really!  Lady, I can think of a lot better things to do with six inches and it doesn’t involve a sub, ok?  Well maybe it could but that’s neither here nor there.  I was now on a mission to prove that it could NOT be done.  I asked the first few folks and they all said no.  Then all hell broke loose because we were super understaffed for a Saturday morning (especially before a supposed snow storm) and we were consequentially swamped.  I was just trying to get people through the line but my fellow competitor kept asking, and therefore kept getting rejected.  I eventually got moved over to the express lane and did get an attempt but never found out who won the ‘sub competition.’  If you want to give out shitty prizes for an asinine competition then fine.  But don’t you DARE lie to me about it.  It discredits your name, and now I am pretty sure all those ‘pieces of flare’ around your lanyard are less shiny.

We aren’t allowed to accept tips from customers.  I have never had to worry about that at super discount big box store because you can’t really tip with your food stamps.  Well, again I got in trouble for something completely out of my control.  This dude came through my line at the express counter.  He had a cart full of stuff but insisted it was just ‘big things’.  First he put the Dyson vacuum on the counter.  I am fumbling this 40lb thing around looking for the damn UPC as he’s piling more crap up there which included a DVD player, a gorilla wearing boxers with pink and red hearts on them, and then assorted groceries.  He had a little kid with him too.  They were both wearing sunglasses.  Indoors.  Nothing says douche bag more than if he were wearing his Bluetooth too.  I am scanning all this when three girls approach the counter and he starts talking to one of them.  By way of the conversation they know each other, and have possibly had an awkward one night stand, and he asks her ‘why are you all weird?’  BECAUSE you are CREEPY!  We are ALL creeped out!!! She makes up an excuse about working 8 hours straight with no break.  Well played?  He realizes that he forgot to get flowers and walks over to the table with a bunch of bouquets.  The first one he takes out of the bucket gets water EVERYWHERE.  It looked like he just dumped the bucket over.  (I got to clean it up because my supervisor was too busy NOT doing her fucking job.)  He brings three bouquets to add to the list and after I ring them up he places a single rose on my carousel but doesn’t say if it’s for me or the girl he was talking to or anything.   I feel momentarily bad for thinking he was a huge dick but the girl doesn’t take it either.  I call my supervisor over and give it to her and she gets overly excited about it.  Problem solved.  Nope.  About 5 minutes later she comes back.  ‘Where did this come from?’  Me: ‘oh he took it out of a bouquet he bought.  One of the three he bought.’  Crisis averted.  He didn’t steal it or just take it out of a random bunch.  ‘Oh ok,’ she says.  Ten minutes after that one of the assistant managers and the loss prevention manager come up behind me and just stand there.  I am worried.  The loss prevention guy is nice but all the interactions I’ve had with the other manager haven’t been swell.  She actually shooed me away one day when I lost my badge and needed a new one to clock in.  ‘Are you the one?’ she asks vaguely.  The one that farted or the one that wants to smash this place with a 9 iron?  No, and yes. Umm…’did you get a flower?’ she simplifies.  ‘Oh yes, but he gave it to me out of one that he bought.  He bought 3 and a bunch of other things,’ I clarify.  Loss Prevention said ‘have you seen him before or do I need to follow up?  Was he harassing you?’ oh how sweet.  Dude is just looking out for me.  Wow someone is human here. ‘Oh no.  I mean, it was annoying that he had too much stuff for the express lane and he got water all over the floor but he was harmless.’  I am good.  Then they start talking amongst themselves as I am trying to help people in line.  ‘Well do we resell it?  It is like a tip.  You could just put it back in another bouquet.  If he bought a cube of pop and gave her a pop can we couldn’t just resell that one can’ and on and on.  I couldn’t even believe they were having the discussion.  Set the fucking flower on fire, throw it out, scatter the petals along the registers and skip for all I care.  It’s just a flower that a guy PAID FOR.  This is my life people, but only for 8 more days 🙂

It’s the final countdown!

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