September 27, 2007

Well, I'll Be

AirTrans responded to my email and let me know that FAA allows small dogs in the cabin as long they are in carriers that can be placed under the seat. Thanks a rot! I would think that in such an enclosed environment, more attention would be paid to folks who might just possibly be allergic to dogs, cats, people who snore, etc.

Work started at 11 a.m. Been there exactly two weeks and in trouble already. What did you do Missy? Didn't take lunch for the two days in which I worked 6-hour-shifts. Geez! I could've sworn that in the farce passing for orientation that we were told six hours, no lunch, 1 break. 8 hours, 1 hour lunch, 2 breaks. Do you really think I'm trying to give Wally time? Anyway, the HR director was apologetic and felt that it was really their fault because my immediate supervisor had given me the wrong information and her manager should have written how much time to take for lunch on my handwritten schedule. Unfortunately, I'm on the report going to headquarters as having violated company policy. GET OUT! I'm being penalized because of other people's mistakes? Cool. Won't happen again. Called into the office later on in the day and given a copy of the meal policy, yada, yada. Signed the paperwork and went to lunch. Not happy.

Drive into my sodden yard (the clothes are still sopping wet from yesterday) and the most gigantic black crows, ravens, whatever, are all over the place. Did something die? Naw, they're just hanging out with their friends, the groundhogs, and having a light picnic in the backyard. What next? Deer? Rabbits? Have to be in on Friday at 11 and work the weekend so by the time I do get to mowing, the grass really will be knee high. Determined about those groundhogs though. They have got to GO!

Got in in time to catch a little of Tavis Smiley's hosting the Republican candidate's debate, held at Morgan State. Well, looky here! The front runners skipped the show; i.e., Mr. New York, Mr. Hollywood, Mr. POW. I didn't know anybody on the stage except for the perennial token Black, Amb. Keyes, the Republican Party's answer to Barack Obama. R-I-G-H-T. I can get offended by their absence and what it implies but it is to be expected so come on Rev. Al, let's get on the donkey and ride. On a more serious note, some of the responses I heard were on point. The highlight, during the short time I was able to watch it, came when Juan Williams introduced to the audience the first African American female combat pilot in both the Marine Corps and the U.S. Defense Department history, Captain Vernice Gwendolyn Armour (check out that middle name). See, you can learn something anytime, anywhere. You go, girl!

Back to Wally World. I've let the hems out of the Urkel pants. Thankfully, they had a deep hem. Didn't know they made pants like that anymore and for $9.98? Last night I was told to zone and dust. I dusted the hell out of that place. I wiped out dishes, wiped off hangers, if it wasn't moving--it got dusted. My supervisor is a strange duck and I'm trying to stay on her good side. Tonight, I am sent over to domestics and told to clean it up. Yassum. Took my duster because the woman in charge is ill and her place is a disaster. Not to mention that it is too damned big. Linens, lamps, picture frames, candles, pillows, blinds, drapes/curtains, luggage, furniture. Good grief. And because she's been out, people have put things everywhere. You can work your behind off in that section. Which I have done. Fine, I can clean over there and window shop while I'm at it. I need new sheets, rugs, etc. Nothing better than looking and getting paid for it. I have fine tuned the candles, everything is in its place. Getting good at catching those things you decide you don't want 15 aisles over. And folks are stealing in Wal-Mart. Dang, watch how hot it gets as the holidays bear down.

It is 7 p.m., one hour to go. I'm told that they are putting up the Christmas candles and Nicky (who should have been cleaning the section and is the one who puts things everywhere but in the right place) is putting up the shelves. My job? Get every last damned candle out of the bins where I just put them last week. On overheads, no less. Man! No problem. It's a test. I'm determined to pass. Why is it every time I get up on the ladder in the bins, someone needs to get into their section immediately? Hello! Isn't my time/job important, too? Three loaded carts later, it is time to go. Shoulder hurts and I'm tired. See ya!

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