October 09, 2007

No, She Did-Ent

Spare me, please. I'll start with Sanika, aka Nicki, who is a piece of work and temperamental on top of that. Young, with three adorable, young, children--two girls and a boy--stair steps. Not a bad-looking girl but not all that, either. We split the coverage of the housewares and domestics sections. As she told me when I came on board, "We're here to help each other." She must have forgotten. Girlfriend does not like to work. She is running a major game which I've spotted but the question is how long will she be able to work it? And work it, she does.

Major chaos in the domestics department. Items in the wrong place, stuff stored behind items (ex., sheets behind comforters), DUST, yada yada. Remember that the manager for the department has been out ill for the past 3 or 4 weeks. I was told about how particular Barbara was about her department and bins. Understandable. It's called pride in your work. Something girlfriend has not and will not develop. She just throws things in the storage area. No attempt at stacking things neatly or in some semblance of order. Just put it anywhere, anyhow.

Saturday's temperature was over 90 degrees. I came in at 2 p.m. and found that the place was a disaster. Stuff everywhere. Now it is a Saturday, folks are shopping, kids are running amok, so what do you expect? Strange that no one was scheduled for the morning shift, though. Aaah, but there was. My girl, Niki, who had gone home for lunch and called back with an emergency. Hmmm. Maybe.... I worked my behind off, clear up to 11 p.m. Talking about a tired puppy.

Monday, I reported at 7 p.m. Shouldv'e been there at 5 but I had an appointment in Memphis; tell you about that later. "Are you just getting here?" Girlfriend was pissed. She'd come in at 2 p.m. and "this place was a mess!" Had to work, did you? Not. "I'm trying to clean up so that Miss Barbara won't be mad when she comes in tomorrow." Sure you're right. Pat, pat. Hasn't refolded squat. All over the store, here, there, and everywhere. Gab gab. Nooo problem. You will not work the gray-haired mare to death, young girl. I take pride in what I do but you will learn, one way or the other, to carry your weight.

Miss Terry, my immediate supervisor, is intimidated. What did I do? Exist, primarily. Why did I find, on Saturday, that the very same things she had berated me for (stacking items on top of each other to gain more room, etc.) had been put into place by none other than herself? No, she did-ent. That the shelf on which she wanted nothing placed is loaded to the gills? I was also told that when I put things in the bins, they had to be placed neatly (referencing the bins for domestics). I think you can take a look and tell who placed what, where. Needless to say, she is not showing me a damned thing. That's what you get for having a basic knowledge of how to stock shelves, Missy. True, but there are things pertinent to Wally World that I don't know. Oh, well.

Lest there be any question, Wally World is killing the kid. Insoles have not helped the foots at all. The body is sore and fatigued even after my third full week. I never sleep past 6 a.m., usually awake by 5 a.m. Today, I slept until 9:30 and I'm still tired. Got to go. The lawn is waiting.

No comments: