So, here's how my Monday went down.
I'm running a little late, but should still have enough time to get to work about ten minutes early. I get in my car, start it, and my car starts to shake violently. I'm hoping I just have ice in my wheel well or something, so I start driving to see what it does. And it starts smoking. Fortunately, I live two miles away from my mechanic, so I went there instead of to work. Ran inside, asked if they were by any chance unbusy enough to give my car a quick look and tell me if it was safe to drive to work.
They had cars in both of the bays, but one of the owners came out and started my car and just said, "No, you're not driving this anywhere."
I called work, panicking a little, thinking I was going to have to call Enterprise or something. Then the owner asked where I worked and told me to hop in his car. So holy shit, my mechanic drove me to work. There will be all sorts of word of mouth promoting from me. Go, that guy!
So, I get to work after having called and told them my car was about to burst into flames but I would absolutely find a way there. I wound up only being about fifteen minutes late (again, go, that guy!). My boss, the assistant manager, and the assistant manager in training were all there - not a single one of them asked me if I was okay. Um, thanks guys. Way to fulfill that mission statement of making your employees feel like they matter.
It was truck day! Truck day is always really busy and we're really pushing to get shit done on time now, which has not been something this store excels at. So I'm working, putting my stuff away, helping customers, y'know, my job. Assistant calls me into the stockroom. We're doing this thing where different areas are assigned to different people to maintain. My area is the OTC stuff. And my shit is TIGHT. My overstock is gorgeous, I'm on top of my inventory, my shelves are pretty, blah blah blah. Look, a thing I'm good at!
Recently, I've been assigned to take care of other peoples' areas to show them how it's done. No problem. I can do that. I was assigned the food bays on Friday. Well, the geniuses who are responsible for the food were opening all sorts of duplicates of full case cereal. So there's way too much cereal to fit on this bay in any organized fashion.
So I get everything else super neat and organized and work the cereal in, leaving a note for my manager that I couldn't get it to be perfect yet, but expect it to be great by the end of the week. Now, this seems like a tangent, but it's related, I promise! Assistant manager calls me into the stock room to have a twenty minute conversation about what I could have done differently. FUCKING SERIOUSLY?! We have to do this NOW? We have a 5:40 piece truck that needs to be done within 24 hours, but sure, let's take 20 minutes to discuss this super important thing that we absolutely couldn't discuss tomorrow. Super time sensitive shit, that. Eye roll.
My ranting is nearing an end, I promise.
Tonight was also the night our contractor comes in to scrub and buff the floor. At about 11:50, I get a call from the floor guy, who should be there at midnight. He tells me he's running a bit late and asks if I want to cancel the service. Um, no. I don't think I'm authorized to cancel a service and our store super fucking needs it. I'm thinking he'll be about fifteen minutes late.
He comes rolling in at 12:40, when I'm standing outside with my workmate smoking (And yes, I did quit smoking two years ago). Then pisses around for TWENTY minutes and doesn't start doing anything until one. I flat-out tell him to half-ass it, don't muck about with the office and employee areas, just get it done. I offer to do the mop part just to get the fuck out of there, since, in addition to him STARTING 15 minutes after I was supposed to LEAVE, my mother had driven down from an hour away to take me home since, y'know, my mechanic drove me to work.
It's snowing quite heavily and I'm not going to leave my mother in the car for a minimum of 45 minutes. AN HOUR AND A HALF. My company is actually good at paying overtime, and you get overtime if you exceed ten hours in one day. Well, folks, 3:15 to 2:42. Basically 11 and a half hours, so an hour and a half of overtime.
*I* don't mind overtime, especially when my car bursts into flames, but my boss is going to be PISSED. And it was almost 3:30 AM before I got home tonight.
In summary: my mechanic is awesome; fuck my job. I think I'm going to make the mechanic muffins.