(no subject)
The first three days of the 8 Days of Hell have passed with... Well, they've passed. Friday wasn't too bad. We were kinda busy, but it was okay.
Saturday though. Saturday. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone. Fuck people and people who have kids and dicks. Assholes. fdghjkljhgfdsfghj
So, first off, I was an hour late on Saturday. The bus just never showed up, and I waited in 16 degree weather for over half an hour for this stupid ass bus. Then I had to walk all the way back to my house. THEN back to the end of the street to wait for the bus AGAIN, which finally did come. And on time, too. So I arrive to work, and Santa doesn't want to break because he wants to make up his money. So we're like fine, whatever. I let the assistant manager and another worker go ahead and take separate breaks and work through the break for them. No big deal. I was an hour late, anyway. Ohhhh. Such a bad decision. People make me tired. Too many emotions fuck me over really bad, too. About an hour before our five o'clock break, I had to stand at the end of the line and tell everyone else that the line was closed. People weren't happy, obviously. But I didn't give a shit. Santa was getting irritated and tired.
So, we go on break... And find out that there is no more tape for the register. At all. And mall security says, "Oh, hey, we'll get you some." And we were all so tired by then, all we wanted to do was sit down and eat, thinking that it was no big deal.
No.
It was a very big deal.
In fact, it was such a big deal that there was no tape anywhere that I ended up having a nervous breakdown. :'D Santa had to comfort me. And just my luck, right, that the district manager had come in that night to grab some frames to bring to another mall and found me bawling my eyes out.
Yup.
It was a LOVELY night. /sob
AND TODAY, WHAT THE HELL
One of the girls I got hired, who is actually a friend of mine, decides she wants to leave at 5:30 (we had to work until 7) because she couldn't possibly get another ride. And then she complains about how she wants more hours, but she never wants to come in when the manager calls her, or she calls off, or she's late. Idek.
AND THE CREDIT CARD MACHINE BROKE
I hate my life. I hate this job. I hate everything.
The moral of this story: Don't work for Santa, kids. It's not good for your health.
Saturday though. Saturday. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone. Fuck people and people who have kids and dicks. Assholes. fdghjkljhgfdsfghj
So, first off, I was an hour late on Saturday. The bus just never showed up, and I waited in 16 degree weather for over half an hour for this stupid ass bus. Then I had to walk all the way back to my house. THEN back to the end of the street to wait for the bus AGAIN, which finally did come. And on time, too. So I arrive to work, and Santa doesn't want to break because he wants to make up his money. So we're like fine, whatever. I let the assistant manager and another worker go ahead and take separate breaks and work through the break for them. No big deal. I was an hour late, anyway. Ohhhh. Such a bad decision. People make me tired. Too many emotions fuck me over really bad, too. About an hour before our five o'clock break, I had to stand at the end of the line and tell everyone else that the line was closed. People weren't happy, obviously. But I didn't give a shit. Santa was getting irritated and tired.
So, we go on break... And find out that there is no more tape for the register. At all. And mall security says, "Oh, hey, we'll get you some." And we were all so tired by then, all we wanted to do was sit down and eat, thinking that it was no big deal.
No.
It was a very big deal.
In fact, it was such a big deal that there was no tape anywhere that I ended up having a nervous breakdown. :'D Santa had to comfort me. And just my luck, right, that the district manager had come in that night to grab some frames to bring to another mall and found me bawling my eyes out.
Yup.
It was a LOVELY night. /sob
AND TODAY, WHAT THE HELL
One of the girls I got hired, who is actually a friend of mine, decides she wants to leave at 5:30 (we had to work until 7) because she couldn't possibly get another ride. And then she complains about how she wants more hours, but she never wants to come in when the manager calls her, or she calls off, or she's late. Idek.
AND THE CREDIT CARD MACHINE BROKE
I hate my life. I hate this job. I hate everything.
The moral of this story: Don't work for Santa, kids. It's not good for your health.