Retail Hell Underground

The Brit Escapes Pizza Hell

Awesome stuff has happened, ladies and germs.

I had two back-to-back interviews at Entire Vittles.  I was nervous as hell going in.  My good friend who works in Prepared Foods, Q-bert, had talked me up big time to his superiors when I put in the application.  They called me the previous week and scheduled an interview for the following Monday.  Unfortunately it was during my shift at the Pit and I couldn't get anyone to cover for me, so I called the hiring manager, Bean, who cheerfully pushed it to Wednesday, one of my many days off.  I took the bus and scampered in happily.  Q-bert was texting me beforehand, being generally awesome and telling me I was going to rock it out.  I sat with Bean and another dude whose name I can't remember and likely won't be interacting much with, and they asked me the usual questions: why do you wanna work here, what're you like as a worker, etc etc.  They were apparently impressed with my answers and Bean asked me to come in the following day at 3.  I had a slip of personality and said "Oh hell yes" which made him laugh, so I trotted back home and prepared myself for the next day.  

That day turned out to be fairly tiring.  I swear that the bus system in my city is specifically engineered by Satan himself to be as inconvenient as possible.  My bus left at 2, which one would think would be ample time to get me from one end of the city to half way downtown, but no.  It was late, and I had rolled my bad ankle doing a death-march from my house to the bus stop (about two miles), so I limped onto the bus and settled in with some Marilyn Manson.  

Then we stopped to pick up pretty much everyone and their brother, making us later.  A lady with a bicycle came on and could not for the life of her figure out how to put her bike onto the rack on the front of the bus.  She seriously fucked it around for about ten minutes.  I was about ready to bash my head against the window, especially since I could see the beautiful building of Entire Vittles looming in the distance, though it was too far to get out and walk to, but she eventually figured it out and we got there two minutes late to my interview.  

I hate being late to anything so I was about jumping out of my skin and hobbled as fast as I could to the service desk, puffed that I was there for an interview with Bean, then sat on the stool at the food bar gingerly massaging my ankle.  Bean turned out to be fifteen minutes behind schedule, so I had time to text Q-bert, who was about to go into work, and tell him of my bus ride.  

I could hear him laughing from where I was.  Bean eventually showed up with another chick in tow, and they sat down and basically asked me the same questions as the previous day.  Bean then looked me in the face, and said "I need you to think very carefully about this next question, as it is very important."

I gulped and said "I'll do my best."

He laced his fingers together, stared at me for a few seconds, then asked "What is the air velocity of an unladen swallow?"

My head nearly exploded from amazement.  I must've looked like I swallowed a fly.  I then cocked my head and asked "Are we talking African or European?"

He grinned and slid some paperwork my way.  

So I was instantly hired.  I filled it out then bounced over to Pizza where I told Q-bert and he gave me an enormous hug, then went on his break and walked with me around the store, as we do.

I went into the Pit yesterday to tell Rude.  I was ready to finish out my week, but being Rude, he abruptly told me there was no need and put out his hand for my key.  I gave him the key, thanked him for the opportunity, and laughed in Shanaynay's fat stupid face.  She had heard where I was about to work, since I had been discussing it with Trip, and knew that I was going to start a base salary of way more than she was making at the Pit after two years of working there.  HA BITCH!

I'm very excited and very happy.

Love, kisses and organic produce,

--TheBrit

 

 

Idiot Newbie Hell At The Pizza Pit

Yo.

The Pit's been hellish as usual. We have two new idiots- I mean, employees who have come in and as a result Trip and my hours have been cut. No one else, just us. So I've gone from working 5 days a week to 2-3. Not good as I have to have $100 by Friday so I can go to school.

Rude has been unbearable lately. He micromanages constantly but it seems to have gotten worse. During bar rush we usually play bouncy club music so the customers can keep the party going. I chose some TTC to play (for those who don't know, they're a Parisienne hip hop group. They sing in French) and people seemed to be digging it. The next day I open, and Rude greets me with "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU PLAYING LAST NIGHT?" I tell him and he tells me never to play them again because people were complaining. As far as I know TTC doesn't swear too badly, so I was baffled until he told me it was because it wasn't in English and that made some customers uncomfortable. WAT.

A few nights before that, I was working. We close at 1am and at 12.45 we had a call for delivery. I told them we closed in 15 minutes and our delivery time is 45-an hour, so I was sorry but I could not accommodate their request. Rude screamed at me the next day that I should never ever do that again, regardless of the time. If they call at 12.59 I have to take the delivery. Fine. The next night we, of course, get a call for delivery at 12.55. I take it. The driver doesn't get back until 1.30 and we ended up leaving at 2.30. Which Rude yelled at me about. Ugh.

I have an interview with Entire Vittles on Wednesday.

Love, kisses and BRIT SMASH!!!!

--TheBrit

 

The Brit Considers Leaving Pizza Hell For The Second Time

TheBrit here.

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?

Love, kisses, and FUUUUUUUCK,
TheBrit.

The Brit's Hope For a Horrible Pregnant Coworker

More drama than the Metropolitan Opera!

I need a goddamn vacation. 

Those of you on Facebook have heard the short version of this story. I was so flabbergasted when it happened that I couldn't comprehend it, so here it is a day later.

Shanaynay has been here for two years. The first night I was hired, Rude's wife informed me that Shanaynay was leaving because she was with child (it's sort of obvious she is) and that I would take over her shifts when she did. Later that night a customer asked why I was back, and I told him the circumstances. The important thing to note here is that the word "replacement" never crossed my lips. Now, telling this one, lone customer probably wasn't a good idea. But I'm a bit daft when it comes to that stuff and I didn't consider it a big deal, nor do I now.

Shanaynay considered it a big deal. So big, in fact, that OVER A WEEK FUCKING LATER she texted me, telling me I'm a "big mouthed bitch", how DARE I tell people she's pregnant (again, she's showing at this point, and she wears skin tight shirts) and how could I ever replace HER, for I am lazy and will be fired soon (because that's totally her decision apparently). Several other expletives and idiocy followed. My responses were along the lines of "yeah yeah yeah" until she said that I gossiped about her. I found that hilarious. I said "I don't gossip about you because I honestly don't think about you. You are such a nonentity in my life that if I saw you in the street I probably wouldn't notice you." That angered her and she came back with the clever line of "BITCH!!!!!!" I told her to lose my number and eventually she stopped screeching at me.

Her boyfriend and potential father to the bastard in her belly came in today. I was preparing the garlic knots and he looked at me, smiling like we were best mates, and said "So you're telling customers that Shanaynay is leaving?" I'm not stupid. Mummy and Daddy Brit did not raise an idiot. I knew he was trying to get dirt on me so he could tell either Rude (who mentioned it to me in passing and just politely told me not to do it again) or Shanaynay who would probably attempt to eat my eyes so I just shook my head, smiled, and went back to work.

You know something? I hope that baby is smart. I hope it studies hard, gets into a good school, and goes into a good career field, making lots of money. And I hope it never calls or visits its mother, never invites her to its wedding, and never tells her it's having a child of its own. THAT is what I hope.

Love, kisses and sad shakes of the head,

--TheBrit

 

Part Two of the Epic Saga That is Pizza Pit

Well, RHU.

You heard the first part of my first night back in Pizza Pit Hell.

But it only gets better. 

One of the drivers is named Phil - because he's a dime-store philosopher. He's read one book about philosophy and sets himself up as the authority on the matter now, condescending to everyone and convinced he is right about everything. No one can stand him, especially me.

That Saturday night, Don came back from his bar adventure, and Phil was in his car reading. He came back in when he had delivery orders but otherwise sat on his rather large ass and did nothing. Around midnight the rush started. Don, Jimbo the other driver and myself were running around taking care of customers but Phil just sat there, reading a Dawkins book and spouting "interesting facts" about organized religion being wrong. I'm an atheist but can't stand Dawkins, so I was getting really annoyed. He never helped us. Not once.

Then the ladies' bathroom flooded and he haughtily informed me that I could mop it after we closed, two hours later. Uh, no. I'll do it now since you have no interest in earning your paycheck. At the end of the night, I tipped out everyone who helped, and of course Phil was there with his hand out, so I gave him a dollar and turned away when he spluttered with outrage.

Trip, the only female driver, told me a fun story about him. She said that until she started working there, he was never on time. Afterward he was there even on his days off, "helping her out" and being generally creepy. He asked her out several times, ignoring the ring on her finger. Weirdo.

I unfortunately do not live up to his standards. I heard him tell a cook that I'm too fat for his tastes. Wow betide me, whatever shall I do now?

Love, kisses and disgust,

--TheBrit

Return To Pizza Hell Reveals Slacker Coworker

My first night back was...fascinating.

I came in, and Rude's wife was there. She was so pleased to see me that she gave me a huge hug and we shot the shit while I got myself readjusted, putting me back in the computer and reminding myself of how to work things. She's a great lady, love her to bits. Rude was happy to see me too, instantly giving me back manager status, which I thought I would have to earn all over again, and instructing me to clean the equipment he used for the art fair. Then he left.

My new coworkers are nice enough. Turnover is high enough that I'm working with all new counter staff, but they seem chill, and I had a great conversation with a driver about medieval economics. Then things got weird.

The guy supposed to be keeping an eye on me is an utter fool. He gave the wrong order to a customer, put another order in wrong, then sat down and did nothing for a few hours. It was slow enough where I could take a couple smoke breaks, but I generally followed the "if you have time to lean, you have time to clean" rule.

I finished my side work and put on some music and hung out. Then the guy, who I'll call "Donald the Dumbass" or Don for short, turned to one of the drivers and said "If it's ok with you, I'm going to the bar." 

Excuse yourself? What?

Did my ears fucking deceive me? You're going to get shwasted when you have a new employee who has worked one single night shift here and a surly driver who doesn't know the cash register?

He looked at me, smiled brightly, and fucked off.

--The Brit

 

The Brit Returns To Pizza Hell

Oh hey there. It's been a while.

I was unemployed for 2 months after my last job at the office ended (it was a temp thing) and let me tell you, not having money in this city is absolutely dreadful. Many summer activities have fallen through. Depressing.

So I went on the job hunt and spread my seed- I mean, my resumes far and wide, leaving no stone unturned and no employer unaware of my existence. The problem was, no one was calling me back. I'd check in and get dismissed. This happened probably ten or fifteen times, and I heard more apologies than interview requests.  As July progressed, I came to a realization, and sighed unhappily.

I would have to go back to Pizza Pit.

I liked the job well enough, despite Rude. I made good money. But being fired because I was sick left a bad taste in my mouth. So I sucked it up and went to the store, and apologized for it. I brown-nosed as best I could. I did everything but throw myself at his feet.

I start Saturday. Expect plenty of stories.

Love, kisses, and here we go again,

--TheBrit

 

The Brit: Making Your Own Fun in the Office

Woo hoo, it's warm out today.

The office is exciting.  So, so exciting.  I come in between 8.30-8.45am, stuff some envelopes with order forms, then listen to graduation ceremonies and type people's phone numbers into a spreadsheet before clocking out at 5pm.  I mean, it beats waiting tables or dealing with crustys, but shit....I sit on my ass for 8 hours a day.

I've noticed that everyone who works at the office is very clique-y.  Meaning that you're either part of their clique or you're not.  Needless to say, I'm not - I have tattoos and wear clothing that isn't considered normal.  The people who ARE in the clique are the two bosses, Lawl and Giggles (they have no personalities, but they fake-laugh almost constantly) and their pet gays, Duke and Twitch, as well as two other girls who work in data entry who bitch about their lives all day long and gossip about people no one gives a flying fuck about.  Me and another girl are largely ignored.  When I come in in the morning, I usually don't get a response to my "good morning".  No one chats to me about funny names or last night's Family Guy or new movies.  When it's lunchtime, their table is always "too full" to sit at so I usually go outside and eat there.  At the end of the day, I usually don't get a response to my "see you tomorrow".  And you know what?  I don't especially mind it.  I am sick of drama, co-workers who gossip, idiot managers.  I'm sick of all of it.  So if I don't talk to these people, they have nothing to gossip about (except for my outfits.  I heard them critiquing one the other day.  Excuse me, but I happen to love hot pink stockings and paisley dresses) and if they have nothing to gossip about, that doesn't make me want to punch them in the face then feed them through the shredder.  It's a win-win situation, and I've never had another job where I'm allowed to listen to Interpol all day.

Anyway, I make my own fun.  If there's a "Kahn" graduating, I usually type "KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHN!!!" then delete it, even though it would be hilarious to see the reaction of a parent getting an order form for "Matthew G KAAAAAAAAAAAAHN"  or "Jenny F Borkborkbork".  It's kind of sad that that is what my idea of fun has devolved to.  God, someone help me.

My boyfriend's bosses are idiots.  He works at the Crimson Birdy as well as having another job at Pasta Inc, and while PI is very understanding of his situation, CB either doesn't understand or care.  We live on the other side of town from both of these places, but the bus service is very reliable and he has a bike, so he can get to and fro without much of an issue.  CB seems to think that they own him, however, so in addition to working 45 hours a week between the two jobs, he's called in almost every day by his boss at CB.  He finally had a day off on Saturday, and was getting ready to play guitar and relax when my cell phone rang (he doesn't have one of his own so he uses mine).  I answered and they asked for Boyfriend, so I gave him the phone.  The conversation went somewhere along the lines of:

CB: Hey, Boyfriend (they mispronounced his name as always), we need you to come in tonight.

BF: Why?

CB: We're short one person.

BF: I worked until 2am last night.

CB: Yeah.

BF: It's my only day off.

CB: Yeah.

BF: I'm on the other side of town and the buses aren't running right now.

CB: Yeah.

BF: I can't make it in.

CB: But we need you.

BF: But I can't come in.

CB: Get a ride from someone.

BF: There's no one here!

CB: Fine. *hang up*

Sometimes you can't help but laugh.

Love, kisses and bridge jumping when the weather gets warmer,

--TheBrit

 

The Brit: It's Humid and My Hair Is Fuzzy

Welly well well.

For reasons I don't care to get into, I left Mountaineer's for greener pastures. I swear I go through jobs like crazy in this state. Anyway, after enjoying a few weeks of relaxation, moving to a new house and reacquainting myself with my research paper, I started a temp job in a completely new environment...an office. I have never worked in one before, and let me tell you, it's the place to be. I get paid $8 an hour to sit on my ass and listen to music, plus the people aren't all that bad. The company I work for is a photography company that specializes in graduation photos, and this is grad season in these parts, so I'm working hard. We deal with a lot of major universities with hundreds, sometimes thousands of graduates, and it's up to my department to put the grads' information into a computer, then send them order forms. The grads, however, can be incredibly stupid. I have one quick story on that.

The university in question is very prestigious and known for their football team. It has a lot of international students, most of whom graduate with honors. Now, our grad cards are not that complex. They have spots for your name, permanent address, parents' address if it differs, then a checklist describing hair colour, ethnicity, etc. Many people get confused by the address form for some unfuckingknown reason. I've come to the conclusion that either many graduates cannot see or understand the letter 'r' so their countries end up being varies counties in Michigan, or said counties in Michigan have risen up in rebellion and established themselves as sovereign nations. But the most hilarious thing came from one of the foreign students. There were four things on this card that didn't quite add up:

1) Michigan has now been taken over by Jerusalem.

2) Jerusalem is now its own country, having completely separated from Israel.

3) "My parents live on the main street of Jerusalem" is now a valid address and

4) Instead of a religion, "Muslim" is now an ethnicity. I would have chalked this up to the language barrier, but entering the rest of her data made me headdesk so hard that I almost knocked myself unconscious. This woman was a Ph.D student and had lived in the United States for almost 10 years, and she had a degree in English, having graduated with a minor in ESL.

And I have one last Mountaineer's story for you.

Thespian, as you may remember -if I even told you, which I may or may not have, I have a terrible memory- is English, (LIKE MEEEEE :3) and looooooves to talk about it. Fact of the matter is, he was born there and spent a whopping 2 years there before moving to the States, whereas I spent my whole life there before moving at 12. Thespian blabs on and on about English customs and how everything is different (it's not) and how the girls there are always all over him because he's American (this may be a regional thing, but where I'm from, Americans aren't exactly treated nicely) and I would bite my tongue each and every time because I really don't like causing trouble with my co-workers. One day I finally cracked though. Thespian was chatting up a pretty girl, and was being making all kinds of erroneous statements about British history, like how Henry VIII chopped Katharine of Aragon's head off (that was Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard...fucking idiot), how Elizabeth II was the first female ruler of Britain (Elizabeth I never existed, so Cate Blanchett's popular movie and its sequel were both fictitious) and other various moronic lies . I'm majoring in Medieval Studies. I do not hesitate to correct people. So I did, in front of the girl he was trying to impress. He didn't like that too much.

--Love, kisses and I can be an arrogant bitch sometimes, TheBrit

 

Tales From The Meat Department

Ohai!

Spring has sprung, the grass has riz, I wonder where them birdies iz!  (That's something my dad always says every spring.  Truth is, them birdies are hanging out in the tree in my yard.)

Mountaineer's remains a joy.   If you've ever heard the Nine Inch Nails song "Everyday is Exactly the Same"...that's my life.  Every day I go in and do the exact same thing as I did before.  This is why I miss restaurants.  But whatever, a job's a job and I don't  wanna go back to be unemployed.

That being said, have some fun stories:

1) There is unfortunately a great deal of serious illness in my family, and if something happens, my mother usually lets me know.  Before I went to work, Mum called and told me to keep my phone on me, just in case (I won't go into details of what happened, but it was bad enough that arrangements may have need to have been made on short notice.)  Lo and behold, half an hour into my shift, I received a text from her.  It wasn't serious, thank God, but she was just keeping me abreast of what was going on.  I went in the back, away from customers, so I could read and respond if necessary.  I'm not sure if ESP is a requirement to be a manager, but one materialised out of thin air behind me, grabbed my phone that I paid $80 without a word, and took off with it. I understand that personal phone use is a no-no, but Jesus, some word of warning would be nice.  I went to the front to get it back, and he stared at me with that kind of dead, broken spiritedness that most management at my store seems to possess, and droned at me that personal cell phone use is prohibited, I would get written up, et cetera.  I told him point-blank that I have a sick family member and if I have to go, I have to go, and he glared at me and gave it back, telling me that next time I need to tell management about situations like that.  I'm a private person by nature, and I don't like telling people my personal business.  I sucked it up and told my department head the next day that if he caught me texting not to yell at me because it was rather important and of a sensitive nature.

2) Now, I will stand in judgement before you, for I have done a bad thing.  I'll probably get lectured in the comments on why this thing is bad, and I totally deserve it.  What did I do?  I called in when I wasn't sick.  In my defence, I was rather ill that Monday night - the kind of ill where remaining standing is hard.  So I called in, slept and felt a bit better Tuesday, my day off.  Wednesday I was feeling wonderful.  The sun was shining, the grass was green, and my friends were frolicking.  It was a glorious day to be alive.  My co-worker texted me and told me he wanted some overtime, so if I didn't go in, he'd be glad to take my shift.  A devil and an angel appeared on my shoulders, and after some consultation, I went with my good friend Beelzebub and got on the horn to work.  The manager was annoyed, because apparently my friend (who needs to have an awesome name but I cannot think of any name awesome enough to encompass all that is awesome about this person, so his name shall be Awesomeface) had been suspended that day for reasons unrelated to this story.  So they were down a couple people, though I didn't learn about that til later and I probably wouldn't have called off had I known.  

3) CREEPY CUSTY ALERT.  Life in the meat department is boring as fuck, but this livened up my week a little.  I went outside on my break to suck down an American Spirit and just enjoy being out of the store when a customer I had just served pulled up in his big black pick-up truck.  He eyeballed me, then called "Hey honey are you waiting for me?"  I shook my head and attempted to go back to my solitary smoke, but he kept pestering me.  "You on lunch?  You hungry?  Want me to take you somewhere?  I promise I'll have you back in time, ha ha ha."  This wouldn't have been creepy if he hadn't been undressing me with his eyes like five minutes beforehand when I was selling him steak.  I went back inside, told Awesomeface, and it became a running joke for a while.  

So yeah.  Fascinating stuff, I know.

Love, kisses and I move to a new house soon!

--TheBrit

 

The Brit's Double Trouble Coworker Hell

Howdy.

Life kinda has a way of grabbing you, shaking you around for a bit, then depositing you back on the ground.  It's been an awful long time since I posted and I'm sorry for that.  I had a lot of personal shit going down, plus working almost fulltime, so not an awful lot of time for me to post.  So this one will hopefully make up for that.

Mountaineer's is two things simultaneously; it is a sort-of upscale grocery store that attracts a fairly affluent and elderly crowd, and it is a shithole that shouldn't be shopped in for a variety of reasons.  That being said, here is my story.

I work with two very stupid people.  The first one is Bitch, because all he does is whine, piss and moan about Mountaineer's.  He's been here for about 2 years now, and ceased to care probably around about when he got into the union.  His main complaint is about the fact that the meat department has  a hole in the wall.  Apparently he's been on about this damn hole for a long time, and everyone is sick of it.  Fortunately, Bitch had a solution to this hole-y problem a while ago!  A fantastic solution!

Well, the first thing he did was put a plywood board over the hole.  Problem solved, right?  Oh no.  When Bitch fixes something, he goes one step beyond.  HE WOULD TAKE THE PLYWOOD OFF AND FILL THE HOLE WITH DISCARDED MEAT.  This went on for MONTHS before he finally stopped.  His reasoning for doing this stupid thing?  So that corporate would notice the stench and repair it.  Did they?  No.  Corporate doesn't even fucking come in this store.  He made a couple people sick for no reason.  Fucking dumbass.

The second person is quite possibly the worst person I have ever worked with.  Worse than Special Snowflake.  Worse than Emo Barbie.  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Queen of the Cunthammers, the Duchess of Douchecanoes, the Twatmonkey herself....Lazy-ass Slutbucket, Slutbucket for short.  She is appalling in every way possible.  Let's back this train up for a second.

It's my second day.  The Brit is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, happy to be working after a month's hiatus, and she greets every new co-worker with a big smile and cheerfulness.  Then the lights flicker.  Thunder rolls in the background as she approacheth.  Babies scream, the elderly clutch their hearts, for it is she, SLUTBUCKET, coming in for another day of doom and dismay.  She doesn't even meet my eye as she brushes past me and begins her agonizingly slow work at the gourmet station.  And that is how it has been.  EVERY. FUCKING. SHIFT.  This girl (well, she's 30, so she's technically a woman but whatever) spends eight and a half hours on something that takes other people two.  And that is all she does!  All she thinks she needs to do!  Once we were backed right the hell up with people.  

It was just me on the counter since everyone but Slutbucket was on lunch or break, and I had probably five customers breathing down my neck and giving me the hairy eyeball for not serving them straightaway, as customers do when they're rich and entitled.  I turn casually to Slutbucket and say "hey, can you help me with customers?"  She doesn't even glance up, just keeping chopping broccoli at the same rate that glaciers move in the Arctic.  I raise my voice a little and repeat myself, in case she didn't hear me, but no, she keeps on keepin' on.  At that point I'm annoyed, and all but shout "SLUTBUCKET I NEED SOME HELP WITH THESE CUSTOMERS SO CAN YOU PLEASE STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND HELP ME KTHXBAI."  She glares at me (well, in my direction, she still has never met my eyes) and snaps "Can I help who's next" at some poor sod who just wanted some chicken.  

Not only is she a lazy fart, but she is also the break police.  I went on break a little earlier than usual one day because I was tired and hadn't had much sleep the night before so a nice sit-down was in order, and I came back to her literally screaming at me.  "BRIT YOU NEED TO TELL PEOPLE BEFORE YOU GO ON BREAK BECAUSE THEY MIGHT WANT TO GO ON BREAK TOO AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT THAT."  At this point, it's been about four weeks of me putting up with her bullshit, her constant bad attitude, her gossiping bitchiness with Bitch and her passive-aggressiveness in her dealings with my co-workers, and I finally snapped.

"IT WASN'T EXACTLY A SECRET, SLUTBUCKET.  I ASKED THE MEATCUTTER AND HE SAID IT WAS FINE.  NEXT TIME I'LL ANNOUNCE IT WITH A MARCHING BAND."  

Then I went about my business.  She punished me for that, though.  It was a Sunday...a Sunday on which sales were ending.  We were PACKED.  So when Thespian and my other co-worker who I will dub "Dude" (he really likes his mary-jane) went on break and it was just me and someone else, she smiled her smug little smile, took off her apron AND WENT ON BREAK.  WITHOUT A FUCKING WORD.  God I hate that bitch.

I have so many more stories.  I'll try and post again soon.

Love, kisses, and please God don't let me hurt this woman, it's a crime,

--TheBrit

 

Life In The Meat Department: Bitchy Old Ladies and Coworker Hell

Oh, herro!

I began my job at Mountaineers a couple weeks ago and it's been rather up and down.  I suppose I'm glad to be out of the restaurant business for right now, but retail is a very different animal indeed, and I'm still getting used to it.  

I work in the meat department, so you could say I know how to handle my meat.  (groan)  Our customers are anywhere from young students to rich people with one foot in the grave.  The latter are the worst, as you probably know from experience.  

I got screeched at by an old woman because she wasn't being specific with what she wanted and she expected me to be psychic. I've also been called stupid a couple times.  Ah, it's good to be working again.  

The cast of characters I work with are very interesting indeed, especially one guy who's about my age.  We'll call him Thespian, because he bullshits like a pro.  Thespian knows next to nothing about meat or cookery despite working at Mountaineers for a good 8 months, but he puts on a show like you wouldn't believe.  He has a very deep, impressive voice that he projects when speaking to customers over the counter (for some reason, he labours under the delusion that if they're on the other side of the counter, they're on the other side of the store and can't hear when he speaks normally) and often greets the customers with "Are you still TAKING A LOOK, or do you need ANY HELP?"  He is also very condescending when it comes to their choices or pronunciation.  One poor Asian man came in looking for ground chuck, and Thespian corrected him three times before helping him.  Despite his flaws, Thespian's fun to work with, and can be very funny.

There are a few people that I despise working with.  Here's some back story:  my boyfriend used to work in the same department at the same Mountaineers, and a lot of the people he worked with loved him and therefore are cool with me, but two people disliked him and have it out for me.  I discovered who they were on the second day of the job, because they didn't bother to look at or talk to me unlike everyone else.  I mentioned it to one of my trainers, who glanced over and told me basically not to expect anything from them, as they are douchebags.  I'll elaborate on them further in my next post.  Gotta get back to work.

Love, kisses, and filet mignon,

--TheBrit

 

The Brit: Surviving Tough Times

It's been a month.  

A long, awful, penniless month.  

I have applied just about everywhere that I possibly can, and you know how many people have called me back?

Two.  Two businesses.  

This economy is balls.  My boyfriend works at Pasta Incorporated, where I had my first interview last week (it looks good but they haven't called for a second interview yet.  Ugh) and he's up for his yearly review today.  His hours have dwindled lately, and it's gotten to the point where he can either afford rent or food - not both.  He's been trying to get a second job but finds himself in the same boat as I.  He's had one call back, from a grocery store located too far away from the house to get to.  

I don't qualify for unemployment benefits in this state, and I'm sinking fast.  Does anyone have any advice about what I can do?  

Love, kisses, and a moth-eaten wallet,

--TheBrit

A Coworker Nightmare Name Emo Barbie

Well, I'd thought I'd left all the petty bullshit at Slemslations, but apparently it migrates with me like some sort of fucking parasite.

My co-workers, for the most part, are absolutely lovely.  We operate as a dysfunctional little family, with our spats and annoyances, but for the most part we're all very close.  I work the day shift, and open the shop five days a week, and have for the past couple months without incident.  As at Slemsations, I was promoted fairly quickly and am shift manager at Pizza Pit, which basically makes me indispensable as a worker - I do all the paperwork, handle all the money, and am the only one allowed in the office.

Last night was Shanaynay, the night manager's birthday.  As such, she took the night off (she deserved it, she works amazingly hard and deals with drunks better than anyone I've ever worked with) and I was asked to take her shift.  I've never, ever closed before, much less on a Friday night when we close at 4am, so I was quite nervous. 

Shanaynay left me a list with everything that needed to be done, which I followed to a t.  The shift was incredibly fun - I worked with my best friend and one of my favourite drivers, as well as a good solid kitchen staff, and the bar rush went smoothly.  I made mad tips, and when 4 o'clock rolled around, I went around the store, list in hand, completing all of the computer tasks, cleaning and locking doors.  On the computer, I closed out the day, locked up and went home to sleep.  This morning (well, 3pm) I got a text from Bestie telling me that the girl who took my shifts was whining about everything that I did last night and was going to tell the boss.

Let's get some backstory on this bitch.  Emo Barbie, as she shall be known, is a fucking dumbass.  This girl talks a mile a minute when you attempt to explain anything to her, and she never fucking shuts up.  The rest of the staff hate her because she's impossible to train and inappropriately affectionate to everyone (she gave the kitchen staff hugs the second day she started work and they stared at me as she did so with a "QUE PASADO?!" expression on their faces) and the boss is so disappointed in her inability to do the simplest of tasks that she is only ever scheduled to close Sunday nights.  He decided to give her a chance this week by letting her take my shifts while I took Shanaynay's, and so I gave her my key and wished her good luck.

Fast forward to right now.  I get a text from Bestie saying that Emo Barbie is bitching.  I text EB to ask her what was wrong, and get a THREE PAGE TEXT MESSAGE telling me that I forgot to do all sorts of things.  She says she told Rude and that he's going to can me, and tells me not to text her anymore because it's immature.  The thing about me is that I am an incredibly chill person, but if you get me angry, then woe betide you.  She got me angry.  I sent her one last text message, containing only one word, a word that I despise and never use.  That word was "cunt".  Apparently Emo Barbie doesn't like that word much either, because what happened next was priceless.  I wasn't there to see it, but Bestie sure was, and I got a play-by-play.

Emo Barbie read the text message, responded "lol", then immediately turned to Bestie and started screaming at her.  Bestie had taken part in some green funtimes before going to work, so she was giggling the entire time that Emo Barbie was freaking out at her.

Customers watched in amazement as Emo Barbie proceeded to follow Bestie around the store, still screaming and ranting that it was all Bestie's fault, and Bestie was still laughing her ass off.  She then told me about this, with the follow-up that Rude probably didn't hear anything about what happened last night, because if he had, I would've gotten a call firing me hours ago. 

In any case, she will likely be kicked to the curb before me, since she freaked out in front of customers whereas I merely did a lot of angry dishes and cleaned my boyfriend's apartment.

Loves, kisses and revenge is a dish best served cold,

--TheBrit

 

Thanksgiving Scheduling Hell

Pizza Pit is still better than Slemslations.  That being said, there is something that's been bothering me about this place.  That thing is Rude.

My schedule is always the same at PP, which is awesome because that lets me schedule time with friends and family.  As Thanksgiving started rolling closer, I knocked on Rude's door.  "Hey, I just wanted to ask if I could have a couple days off around Thanksgiving so I can go back to New York."

His response was "No, we need you here."

That sucked, I haven't seen my mom since August, but I understand if the shop doesn't want to let me off.  He assured me that I'd have plenty of time to see my family for Christmas, since he knew that I was far from home and missing my family.

So I went on my merry way and did shop stuff.  He posted the Thanksgiving schedule a couple days ago (this would be Sunday of Thanksgiving week) and lo and behold, I had three days off.  In a row.  My father had already left by the time to go to New York, but I was angry.  I could've legitimately gone home, and spent the holiday with my family, but Rude hadn't told me ahead of time, and I didn't have money for a plane ticket saved up.  If this happens over Christmas, I'll be very angry indeed.

Otherwise, things are going well.  The way things go at the Pit is that we are very busy for a couple hours, then dead for the rest of the day.  At first, I took the manuscript for my book with me so I could do some much-needed writing, but Rude got very angry for some reason about the whole thing, so I was barred from that.  So I brought my knitting with me, and he approved.  At least I'm getting a lot of Christmas presents out of the way doing my all-day knit-a-thons, but it would be nice to be able to do something a little more intellectually stimulating.  My shifts are about 8-10 hours longer, and doing work for the shop takes up maybe a third of that time.  There's only so many times that I can wipe down tables and the pizza cabinets and stuff.  Ugh.

Expect a big Black Friday post.  It'll be terrible.

Love, kisses and the hell I'm getting turkey this year,

--TheBrit