I'm on a D-day today for spending a little extra time on my break because I'm not feeling well. I got hurt at work because of someone else's carelessness.
They have been watching and waiting since for one slip up so they can fire me. Because that's what they do if you get hurt. Three years with Hellmart: the most miserable three years of my life!
Oh yea and last year, I was sick for days: fever of 103 after nine days straight on the schedule.
I couldn't go home early and got in trouble for not coming the next day!
Fire me bitches, I hate you!
By Linda Haluska:
I was born and raised in a middle-class family in East Chicago, Illinois. My dad worked for over 25 years as a machinist at Inland Steel, caring for me, my sister and our mom with his single income. He was able to buy us a comfortable house and car and put food on the table. When we got treated to the movie or a restaurant, I felt special, but I also knew my dad didn’t feel stressed out by the expense – he wanted us to be happy and to believe in working hard and in enjoying the rewards. Above all, he felt hopeful that his children were on a path to greater security and success.
By the time I was ready to enter the workforce, I didn’t feel that same hope. In fact, it no longer seemed like you could take care of a family with one full-time job. I have my own children now, and I worry that they aren’t growing up with any belief in a better life.
For the past eight years, I’ve been stocking shelves at a Wal-Mart store in Glenwood, Illinois. I had thought that working for the largest employer, in one of the fastest growing industries in our country, would put me on a path for a steady paycheck and opportunities. But Wal-Mart jobs create financial insecurity, not a path toward the American Dream.
Still, I want my kids to enjoy their childhood now, and so my husband and I work multiple jobs to make ends meet and take them to an occasional movie or meal out – just like my dad did for me and my sister. I am able to get extra work substitute teaching or picking up odd jobs like working at the fireworks stand.
Even with these side jobs and after working at Wal-Mart for eight years, I only bring home about $400 each week. That means that each month I have to make a decision about which expenses to prioritize and ultimately I have to call one of the bill collectors to see if I can pay late or adjust the payment.
I have spoken with management as part of OUR Walmart, an organization of Wal-Mart associates pushing for more respect, and I receive annual performance evaluations. But these have resulted in small raises – of no more than 50 cents an hour.
I dread opening bills when they arrive because anything higher than usual means another thing my children have to do without. This is especially hard in the summer and winter when higher electric bills mean that we have to cut expenses to the basic needs – no snack foods for the kids and definitely no fun activities with their friends or for our family.
This May, I had a conversation with my son Dennis I will never forget. He told me he had decided not to go to prom because he knew we could not afford it. I was heartbroken that he knew our finances were so stretched that there’s no way we could think about paying for a tuxedo, flowers and prom tickets. In the end, we had to pay the electric, water and car insurance bills – things we really can’t make do without — and there was no extra money for prom.
With my job, I also miss out on important times for my kids. I’ve had to miss their basketball games and tell their teachers I can’t attend the parent-teacher meetings. I don’t want my kids growing up thinking this is as good as it gets and that even with a job you have to live paycheck to paycheck.
At the store and in TV ads, I’ve been hearing Wal-Mart talk about investment in manufacturing, which is laudable. But we cannot let the dollars and cents that they’re putting into this jobs campaign distract us, as a country, from the jobs at Wal-Mart stores and the need for the retailer to improve jobs for hundreds of thousands of workers. And they don’t need an advertising campaign and a big summit to make this change. They could raise pay and provide more hours tomorrow.
When I was growing up, my dad was so proud of his work. Manufacturing was seen as the way to a higher standard of living. But that reality is gone. Today, most of my neighbors, friends and family work in service and retail jobs, and sadly, the hard reality is that Wal-Mart’s treatment of workers continues to hold our country back. Being paid less than $25,000 a year – as most Wal-Mart associates are – while the company brings in $16 billion in profits and spends millions on ads is not OK.
The truth of the matter is that, like me, most Americans now work in retail and depend on these jobs to raise a family and enter the middle class. With its vast reach, Wal-Mart has the power to make a tremendous difference in the lives of hundreds of thousands of these workers and their families and transform the retail jobs that are here at home and here to stay into great American jobs. When Wal-Mart praises good manufacturing jobs in the U.S., I hope they also remember the millions who work in retail.
I'm sure many of you are familiar with that terrible department store known as Hellmart. Unfortunately, I've gotten sucked into the soul-destroying void. You can call me Bitch Goddess of the Gardens, or if you prefer something short and succinct, Garden Bitch will do nicely.
I have many tales of horror from the few months I've been there so far; I've found half-eaten food shoved behind product, I've found a Pepsi can full of chewed tobacco left on my shelves. My favorite custy story so far has to be the father who threatened me with a lawsuit over his hellspawn, so that's the one I'd like to share.
I work in the garden, so naturally, we have a lot of tools like rakes, shovels, shears...lots of things with little pointy bits that can cause a lot of damage. I've had cuts and bruises from most of our tools because custys refuse to handle them properly. This one takes the cake.
There are only two of us in the garden (plus the manager who is in the back room) when this happens. A “gentleman” comes in with his daughter and proceeds to chat up my increasingly uncomfortable coworker; we'll call him Oblivious Asshole and my coworker CG.
While Oblivious Asshole is hitting on CG, his hellspawn has proceeded to run around the department like a cat on speed, knocking things over and destroying displays, with me chasing her trying to corral her back to Oblivious.
Oblivious makes a couple of half-assed comments telling hellspawn to calm down, but he's not paying attention. His eyes are obviously on CG's chest and he has her effectively trapped behind the counter desperately trying to summon management. Meanwhile, hellspawn has pulled the safety plastic off of a pair of garden shears and is running around with them, brandishing them at me when I get too close and knocking things off shelves with them. At one point she managed to get outside and destroyed three fruit trees with the damn things.
This goes on for ten minutes; Oblivious still chatting up CG and me chasing hellspawn around the department. Eventually, she crashes into one of our grill displays and goes down. Unfortunately, I didn't quite catch how she manages to slice her arm with the shears, but she does a huge amount of damage to herself and is now bleeding all over me, my floors, the shears, and another custy who stopped to help me. Good Samaritan takes a brand new shirt he just purchased and hands it to me to stem the bleeding, while CG is grabbing the phone and calling for Big A (the department MOD) to have him call an ambulance.
Eventually, Oblivious realizes that we are all panicked over something and he hasn't heard his daughter screaming raucously for a few moments; he turns and sees her bleeding all over everything. Cue the screaming at me for touching his precious hellspawn, cue the ranting about how the garden staff should supervise things better (because it's totally my responsibility to watch your hellspawn while you flirt with someone who is clearly not interested), cue the threats of how he's going to sue and he should kick my ass for letting his precious little girl get hurt.....blah blah freaking blah.
Big A shows up with the paramedics and security, and Oblivious starts in on how he only turned his back for a second and clearly I attacked his hellspawn with the garden shears, and he wants me fired immediately and arrested for assault.
At which point MB (the store manager) walks up and tells Oblivious that he's watched the security footage and his hellspawn would not have gotten hurt if A) Oblivious was watching her and B) she wasn't running around threatening the staff and playing with the tools.
I haven't seen Oblivious since, but we did find out from his wife that their hellspawn needed twenty stitches and was in the hospital for a few days. She also brought Starbucks gift cards for myself, CG, and Good Samaritan for putting up with Oblivious and doing our best to get the child taken care of. And CG and I both got commendations and a bonus from MB in our next paycheck.
--Bitch Goddess of the Gardens
Employees of a Corsicana Walmart were shocked to find a teenage boy secretly living inside the store for a few days.
The teen wasn’t just hiding in the store. He built a secret hidden compound and was able to call the 24-hour store home for 2 1/2 days before being discovered.
CBS 11 News obtained exclusive photos of two campsites at the Walmart in Corsicana. One of them was on the aisle carrying baby products behind boxes of strollers. The other was behind stacks of paper towels and toilet paper.
“You never expect that you’re at Walmart and someone has been living there for four days. That’s crazy,” said Myrna Aguilar, a Walmart customer.
Customers who walked down the aisles where the teen was living never noticed two hidden compounds where the boy was able to store necessities, sleep in a makeshift bed and and eat items taken from inside the store.
He created a crack in the back wall of the drink aisle to grab juice and even collected a fish from the pet department.
The photos show the clothing that employees say the boy would change in and out of every few hours to avoid detection.
Sources said the 14-year-old was so concerned about being caught he wore diapers instead of using the store restroom.
Eventually, a trash trail led to the teen’s discovery.
From Huff Po:
Last we checked, ice cream is supposed to melt if it isn't kept chilled.
But Walmart's store-brand ice cream sandwiches don't even melt in the sun, according to a report from WCPO Cincinnati.
The discovery was made by a local mom, Christie Watson, who noticed that a Great Value ice cream sandwich her son left out on their patio table hadn't fully melted -- even though it had been sitting out for 12 hours on an 80-degree day. Watson left a second ice cream sandwich out overnight with the same results, WCPO reports.
"What am I feeding to my children?" she asked, appalled.
“Ice cream melts based on the ingredients, including cream," Walmart spokeswoman Danit Marquardt said in an email. "Ice cream with more cream will generally melt at a slower rate, which is the case with our Great Value ice cream sandwiches."
But as Business Insider reports, the product also contains a number of additives:
According to Wal-Mart's website, the ice cream sandwiches contain milk, cream, buttermilk, sugar, whey, and corn syrup.
It also contains "1 percent or less of mono-and diglycerides, vanilla extract, guar gum, calcium sulfate, carob bean gum, cellulose gum, carrageenan, artificial flavor, and annatto for color."
WCPO conducted an experiment of their own, leaving out a third Walmart sandwich alongside a Klondike bar and a pint of Haagen Dazs ice cream. The Haagen Dazs ice cream -- which contains only cream, milk, sugar, eggs and vanilla, and no gums -- melted fastest. The Klondike bar melted, too.
"The Walmart sandwich, though it melted a bit, remained the most solid in appearance, and still looked like a sandwich," the station reported.
This story was originally posted on June 03, 2010.
I hit a wall today. Literally, actually.
I ended up punching the paneling in the truck, which, while not a great decision, is far better than punching the asshole custy that made me so mad.
Hellmart is living up to its name spectacularly. Three of us in the department put in for a recently vacated job that has a marginal raise. It's the one I've been doing, working in Connections. I like Connections, I do it anyway, I've told management I wanted to switch to it, so today, guess what?
I trained the new girl.
The three of us that put in for it have worked there for more than 3 years, and we were all thwarted by a newbie that thus far makes our former employee that snuck out to Starbucks frequently look productive.
To add insult to injury, I've been told that I have to continue training her, and that I have to continue doing Connections. Without the raise, and without the better hours.
That's not just a slap in the face to all three of us, making ME train Dumbass IV is like getting bitch slapped repeatedly by a stegosaurus.
And that was just the beginning of a hellacious fucking day.
One of the pseudo-dipshits (ahem, managers) brought out two carts for me specifically to work. I used to be The Closer, but with my fucked up hours, I haven't closed in awhile. Whoever has been closing has left a lot of shit, which, naturally, I had to work. Because, you know, a few months ago I was The Closer.
The better part is that for half an hour, it was just me and the newbie, and my BRILLIANT manager told me to stay on the carts and have "A" walk the floor and help customers.
A doesn't know where or what anything is, but I'd been working with her on the carts and she had a pretty decent grasp on how to deal with the crap, but no, I had to continue the carts and SHE was sent to help. Fucking brilliant. Basically, I got nothing on the cart done until another coworker showed up because I had to help A out.
Oh, right, dipshit fuckface managers. (A side note, I got mad at an overnight manager and started calling her FuckFace or FF for short. Now a good majority calls her FF and she can't figure out why!)
The custys were absolutely out of control today too. Yelling, screaming, running around, knocking things over, whining, climbing on things - and those were just the adults. It was a drunken frat house mentality. I had people yelling at me to speak up, when I was practically yelling. It was migraine inducing volume level type shit.
But then, of course, when it couldn't get any worse, it did.
Jackass de la Fucker came in.
I was helping these pretty nice people out with a TV (the only thing irritating was the man's insistence on calling me kiddo, but honestly, they were pretty cool people!) and it so happened that the one TV they decided on was the one TV that I didn't have. Fan-fucking-tastic. Instead of throwing a fit, they waited patiently while I called the nearest Hellmart.
While on the phone, a not so nice guy (but still not as bad as Jackass) demanded to be cashed out. I hate being on the phone and cashiering because I feel it's rude to the person in front of me, but I did it anyway.
Then Jackass came up. (I'm on hold at this point) "DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT COMPUTERS?" (Bear in mind, he's less than a meter away)
I'll be the first to admit I'm not a super techie, but I know a fair amount about them, and all anyone needs to know about what we carry, so I say, "I do, what's your question?"
"WHAT KIND OF ANTI-SOFTWARE BESIDES NORTON DO I GET?"
Uh, what? Hey, Megaphone, try turning the volume down and coming up with a coherent sentence, aight?
"I - "
"WHAT DO YOU USE?"
"OH REALLY? WHY? I HAD THAT. I DON'T WANT THAT!"
"Okay, in my experience, McAfee didn't work as well as I expected, but some people really love it. Kaspersky has been rated highly, and -"
"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING, DO YOU, GIRL? GOD!"
I'm shocked, honestly, so all I can say is, "Excuse me?"
He laughs and says, "Never mind, you're too stupid to understand anyway."
Why don't you go fuck yourself in the deepest part of hell, buddy? Actually, don't, I seem to work there. But go fuck yourself anyway.
No, I didn't say it. Thankfully the lady finally came back on the phone and I was able to get good news back to my cool custys.
Then I went in back and punched the truck. Possibly more than twice.
I'm far from stupid. I tested post high school on every standardized test in first grade. I skipped 5 grades until I had to change schools where they didn't have an IEP and based your grade off your age. I work at Hellmart because I have to - because I chose to give up a very expensive private university to move across the country so I could help out my mother. I'm slowly getting my life back on track, but I assure you, I'm not at Hellmart because I have no other option in life. And yes, I am bitter. I'm angry. I gave up everything, and all I have to show for it is a SHITTY job where I have to train idiots to do a job I begged for. Oh, and more debt.
Don't you dare insult my intelligence, you motherfucker. We slaves put up with a lot of shit, but we should never have to put up with someone calling us stupid.
So now I have a bruised up hand, and I'm mad as hell, and I just want to crawl under the covers and not come back out.
This whole steaming pile of bullshit that's been dumped on me is just too much.