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A journal for one
Apr. 24th, 2005 10:40 amSee me cry. Just when I get time off, there's no fun Pullipy sunshine and rainbows to go play in. Damn it, the last 24 hours have just managed to suck beyond suckage. Though this does give me time to, you know, catch up elsewhere.
Why last night blew horrifically without anything massively evil happening:
I get to work and the perky coworker is there. This isn't awful, except something about Miss Perky is offputting to me to the point where if we were cartoons, I would morph from normal me to dark, evil me. Without the fun aspect thrown in. The fact that she's buddy-buddy with the manager of the night doesn't help. It means they pal around and I get to, you know, work.
So. Perky. Perky and Manager go forth and start putting up adtags while I deal with the 9 billion people who seem to think that Saturday night means "hang out at Walgreens!" Freaks. Only, and I'm well aware that this little gripe makes me incredibly weird, they naturally go for the stuff I can reach. >_< So there they are, doing the front half of the store, leaving me with nothing to do. And they speeeeeeed through it. We're talking like on massive amounts of drugs fast. Scary.
During which I was insulted. Twice, but with the same insult. Miss Perky said, "Whoever sorted these did a really awful job" and I couldn't very well say, "Thanks, Princess. Wanna work all night cuz you just pissed me off." I wanted to, but didn't. All the big tags were sorted in freakishly accurate ways. We're talking walk down the aisle and bam, there the stuff is. In as much order as inhumanly possible. Sorted by aisle. Thing is, I only had so many rubber bands to keep them all together, so I'd put them in giant clumps, sorted by aisle... each aisle facing a different way. So they were sorted so that a fucking idiot [me] could put them up without walking all over creation. Thanks a lot, perky. So she said this once to me, and once to Manager. I did not grind my teeth into dust.
I did, however, leave her to deal with SuperFreak who had come back into the store. SuperFreak is the dude who has this big horribly unattractive mustache, curly hair, and wants to dress up like a woman. o_O He's the one who makes my skin crawl, and did before I realized his love with horrid underthings sold in drugstores. This involved sneaking, ever so sneakily ;) to the back of the store, peeking around the corner, and hurrying to the silver door that leads to the bathrooms. Once I hit the door I sped through it and into the bathroom. When I was done, I slipped into the shadows and peered out the glass to see if SuperFreak was still lurking in the back of the store. Didn't see him, so I began the long, slow, slink back to the front of the store. Where I saw a pile of stuff I'd bet a small fortune was his piled on the counter. I left it there, wondering if he'd be back. When thirty minutes passed and he hadn't, I shoved it to the floor, shuddering at the thought of anyone wearing that underwear.
Annnnnnway. He did come back. A lot. Only he didn't ever buy his tacky stuff, even the white bra he put up on the counter and then shuffled off to his car to get his wallet so he could buy it. I think he was just feeling creepy, so he thought he'd make my skin crawl. EW. Just... EW. Dammit, man, eww.
... and triple ew. My brother apparently decided he couldn't puke in his own damn bathroom, so he's puking in the bathroom downstairs. Which means everyone in the fucking world can hear him throwing up. Ew.
So, where was I? Work suckage. Okay. Because of the speed working of my freakin' job by the wonder twins, I had nothing to do all night. Sounds fab, right? Not. I had to look busy for six hours while trying to avoid SuperFreak, deal with drunks, and basically try not to kill anyone. So very bored. *weeps*
Kay. Off to play. And clean. And sleep. And read. But not in that order, probably. Expect spammage later.
Why last night blew horrifically without anything massively evil happening:
I get to work and the perky coworker is there. This isn't awful, except something about Miss Perky is offputting to me to the point where if we were cartoons, I would morph from normal me to dark, evil me. Without the fun aspect thrown in. The fact that she's buddy-buddy with the manager of the night doesn't help. It means they pal around and I get to, you know, work.
So. Perky. Perky and Manager go forth and start putting up adtags while I deal with the 9 billion people who seem to think that Saturday night means "hang out at Walgreens!" Freaks. Only, and I'm well aware that this little gripe makes me incredibly weird, they naturally go for the stuff I can reach. >_< So there they are, doing the front half of the store, leaving me with nothing to do. And they speeeeeeed through it. We're talking like on massive amounts of drugs fast. Scary.
During which I was insulted. Twice, but with the same insult. Miss Perky said, "Whoever sorted these did a really awful job" and I couldn't very well say, "Thanks, Princess. Wanna work all night cuz you just pissed me off." I wanted to, but didn't. All the big tags were sorted in freakishly accurate ways. We're talking walk down the aisle and bam, there the stuff is. In as much order as inhumanly possible. Sorted by aisle. Thing is, I only had so many rubber bands to keep them all together, so I'd put them in giant clumps, sorted by aisle... each aisle facing a different way. So they were sorted so that a fucking idiot [me] could put them up without walking all over creation. Thanks a lot, perky. So she said this once to me, and once to Manager. I did not grind my teeth into dust.
I did, however, leave her to deal with SuperFreak who had come back into the store. SuperFreak is the dude who has this big horribly unattractive mustache, curly hair, and wants to dress up like a woman. o_O He's the one who makes my skin crawl, and did before I realized his love with horrid underthings sold in drugstores. This involved sneaking, ever so sneakily ;) to the back of the store, peeking around the corner, and hurrying to the silver door that leads to the bathrooms. Once I hit the door I sped through it and into the bathroom. When I was done, I slipped into the shadows and peered out the glass to see if SuperFreak was still lurking in the back of the store. Didn't see him, so I began the long, slow, slink back to the front of the store. Where I saw a pile of stuff I'd bet a small fortune was his piled on the counter. I left it there, wondering if he'd be back. When thirty minutes passed and he hadn't, I shoved it to the floor, shuddering at the thought of anyone wearing that underwear.
Annnnnnway. He did come back. A lot. Only he didn't ever buy his tacky stuff, even the white bra he put up on the counter and then shuffled off to his car to get his wallet so he could buy it. I think he was just feeling creepy, so he thought he'd make my skin crawl. EW. Just... EW. Dammit, man, eww.
... and triple ew. My brother apparently decided he couldn't puke in his own damn bathroom, so he's puking in the bathroom downstairs. Which means everyone in the fucking world can hear him throwing up. Ew.
So, where was I? Work suckage. Okay. Because of the speed working of my freakin' job by the wonder twins, I had nothing to do all night. Sounds fab, right? Not. I had to look busy for six hours while trying to avoid SuperFreak, deal with drunks, and basically try not to kill anyone. So very bored. *weeps*
Kay. Off to play. And clean. And sleep. And read. But not in that order, probably. Expect spammage later.