Am I Wrong, here?
Harbl Garbl.
I really should take everyone's advice and just quit this stupid fucking job. I really do not need all this stress. Tonight, I had my ass jumped by Debbie (the overnight stock bitch).
Here's what happened.
On Thursday, there were three people closing. Mike, Stephanie, and Myself. We were actually coming along nicely. Things were coming together, but we were a long way from being "done". At least not the kind of "done" that gets us high marks with management. But, we were all working our respective tails off. Debbie comes in and goes to the back, then pulls some freight up. Says nothing. Goes away. Comes back. Pulls up more freight. Stares at me.
Me: Yes?
Debbie: You have to stock this stuff in the back before you leave.
Me: [Looking over the pallets. This is easily an hour of work, if not more, and we're supposed to clock out in 15 minutes. And, honestly, we're not even supposed to do this shit.] Huh.
Debbie: What? [Getting testy.]
Me: Nothing. I just need to talk to Joe or Rhonda [Management that was on that night].
Debbie: [Defensive!] Why would you need to do that? Just fucking do it.
Me: Well, they have to sign us out anyway. It can't hurt to ask. [Moseys off to finish cleaning, and calls management.]
Now, there's about a twenty minute stretch, in which time I finish up the front by myself and send Stephanie and Mike back to stock for a while. Management has a bad habit of not showing up, but finally, they do. Debbie has sodded off elsewhere. I get Mike (I've learned it's better to have a witness for these sorts of things) and explain very plainly to Joe what the situation is.
Me: If you need us to stay, that's fine. But, you guys have to realize you can't stick us with an hour's worth of pallets when we've not got the time to stack.
Joe: I'll talk to Rhonda, and we'll make a note of it in the future. It shouldn't be a problem, though. We'll have Debbie do it. She's here all night anyway.
Mike confirms what I've already said. I walk to the back to get Stephanie, and she asks me what's going on. I tell her that we've been checked out, and we're free to go home. And we do.
Cut to tonight. Things not going so great, but we're going to get out on time. We're in the middle of getting done, and here marches up Miss Bitch herself.
Debbie: Hey, bitch. Next time, don't go running to management. You had plenty of time to do those pallets.
Me: o.O O...kay?
Debbie: Don't give me that look. You don't want to fuck with me. I'm not the person you want to fuck with.
Me: Oh, really? I'll keep that in mind. Thanks.
Debbie: Don't get cute.
Me: I'm just covering my own ass by staying rational. You're the one that's instigating.
Debbie: Cross me, bitch. Give me a reason to kick your ass.
Me: What? Leaving YOUR job for YOU to do is now a ass-kicking worthy offense? Pardon me.
Debbie: Don't fuck with me! I'm not the person you wanna fuck with!
Me: Again, I'll keep that in mind.
Debbie: I can pull videotape of you! I can get you fired!
Me: Oh, be my guest. By all means, do so. I'll be waiting on my termination papers.
Debbie: Management's gonna back me. I'm not the person you wanna fuck with!
Me: Then. Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me. Or, start a fight. Can't fire me over self-defense, can they?
And she huffs, puffs up her chest, rolls her eyes, and leaves.
*Flails.*
Is it so much for me to want to NOT be verbally assaulted when I go to work? Really?
I really should take everyone's advice and just quit this stupid fucking job. I really do not need all this stress. Tonight, I had my ass jumped by Debbie (the overnight stock bitch).
Here's what happened.
On Thursday, there were three people closing. Mike, Stephanie, and Myself. We were actually coming along nicely. Things were coming together, but we were a long way from being "done". At least not the kind of "done" that gets us high marks with management. But, we were all working our respective tails off. Debbie comes in and goes to the back, then pulls some freight up. Says nothing. Goes away. Comes back. Pulls up more freight. Stares at me.
Me: Yes?
Debbie: You have to stock this stuff in the back before you leave.
Me: [Looking over the pallets. This is easily an hour of work, if not more, and we're supposed to clock out in 15 minutes. And, honestly, we're not even supposed to do this shit.] Huh.
Debbie: What? [Getting testy.]
Me: Nothing. I just need to talk to Joe or Rhonda [Management that was on that night].
Debbie: [Defensive!] Why would you need to do that? Just fucking do it.
Me: Well, they have to sign us out anyway. It can't hurt to ask. [Moseys off to finish cleaning, and calls management.]
Now, there's about a twenty minute stretch, in which time I finish up the front by myself and send Stephanie and Mike back to stock for a while. Management has a bad habit of not showing up, but finally, they do. Debbie has sodded off elsewhere. I get Mike (I've learned it's better to have a witness for these sorts of things) and explain very plainly to Joe what the situation is.
Me: If you need us to stay, that's fine. But, you guys have to realize you can't stick us with an hour's worth of pallets when we've not got the time to stack.
Joe: I'll talk to Rhonda, and we'll make a note of it in the future. It shouldn't be a problem, though. We'll have Debbie do it. She's here all night anyway.
Mike confirms what I've already said. I walk to the back to get Stephanie, and she asks me what's going on. I tell her that we've been checked out, and we're free to go home. And we do.
Cut to tonight. Things not going so great, but we're going to get out on time. We're in the middle of getting done, and here marches up Miss Bitch herself.
Debbie: Hey, bitch. Next time, don't go running to management. You had plenty of time to do those pallets.
Me: o.O O...kay?
Debbie: Don't give me that look. You don't want to fuck with me. I'm not the person you want to fuck with.
Me: Oh, really? I'll keep that in mind. Thanks.
Debbie: Don't get cute.
Me: I'm just covering my own ass by staying rational. You're the one that's instigating.
Debbie: Cross me, bitch. Give me a reason to kick your ass.
Me: What? Leaving YOUR job for YOU to do is now a ass-kicking worthy offense? Pardon me.
Debbie: Don't fuck with me! I'm not the person you wanna fuck with!
Me: Again, I'll keep that in mind.
Debbie: I can pull videotape of you! I can get you fired!
Me: Oh, be my guest. By all means, do so. I'll be waiting on my termination papers.
Debbie: Management's gonna back me. I'm not the person you wanna fuck with!
Me: Then. Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me. Or, start a fight. Can't fire me over self-defense, can they?
And she huffs, puffs up her chest, rolls her eyes, and leaves.
*Flails.*
Is it so much for me to want to NOT be verbally assaulted when I go to work? Really?