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The Brit Considers Leaving Pizza Hell For The Second Time
If you've been a reader of mine regularly this past year, you know I am somewhat of a job-gypsy. I don't stay in one place for very long. There's a reason for that. I PICK FUCKING SHITTY PLACES TO WORK. I seem to have this uncanny ability to go somewhere awful, let them treat me like shit, then move my ass on down the ole dusty trail.
The reason I bring this up is because I am seriously considering leaving the Pit again. Last night Don and I were working together. He's a pleasant enough young fellow (and rather easy on the eyes) and we generally have a good time together. I went out for a smokey-poo halfway through the shift and a customer comes in, orders a pizza, and pays with a gift card. Big fucking whoop. Don rang him up and everything, since I was on break.
I get a phone call from Rude today while I'm enjoying lunch with my family, and he's seriously fucking screaming at me about this gift card. A) I didn't even fucking do it. B) the gift card system we have in place is really fucking peculiar. You have to sacrifice a goat to the gift card gods, paint yourself in blood and dance around the register five times before the gift card will go through. Or something. My point is, gift cards are a huge pain in the ass. I've never dealt with them and Don had. So that was mysteriously my fault. Also it was my fault that a customer never picked up their order so I had to cancel it. How dare I.
Shanaynay was here when I came to work today. She was sitting with one of my favorite customers, glaring at me as I went and clocked in. Much to her amazement, the customer actually likes me, and came up to the counter to chat. The look on her face was priceless, like she had simultaneously swallowed a lemon then had one shoved up her ass. I'm fairly sure she's been spreading rumors about me because staff who were friendly to me before are hostile now.
I have the opportunity to work for the pizza section of a popular natural foods grocery store. Should I take it?