Time to start looking for another job.
Fegh. Sometimes a rant is needed more days than others.
SO. At the grocery store I work at, we're advertising our new Mastercard. Except my particular store is getting stupidly desperate for applications, and has a) plastered every till and aisle with posters, b) spammed the intercom with announcements about it (which is great when I'm trying to make a page, so thanks, you knobs), c) tacked on some questions about the card onto the end of our hi-how-are-you spiel, d) stuck an application table in front of the doors, and e) charged one particular girl with parading up and down the lane, wearing a sandwich board and SCREAMING RANDOM CARD INFO as loud as she can; people look like they're gonna shoot the poor kid (seriously, what). REALLY GUYS I THINK ONLY A COUPLE OF THOSE ARE NECESSARY.
Basically, no matter where you go, you're surrounded by all this. If we don't make a certain number of applications each day, the store gets in trouble, so my managers have been really pushing it. To the point where if I forget to ask if the customer has heard about the card, I get in trouble. Nothing new, it's just one more question to my every-customer spiel. Okay.
Except I was having a crap day all day long: a day-long headache from the weird-ass weather, crammed school, no time for homework, etc etc of everyday university stress. And I ended up asking the question differently from the set wording, and occasionally forgetting to ask altogether. Sooo I got a talking-to.
Five times. In an hour and a half. By five different people.
WHAT.
AND I had a... damn, I don't even know how to describe how lame this is, a kids' wrestling champion-belt with MORE credit card info taped to it, stuck on my till. Like a dunce cap.
AND, AND. When my manager asked me why I wasn't asking correctly, I suddenly BURST INTO TEARS. I still have no idea why, it wasn't exactly upsetting, and I definitely wasn't pulling anything to get out of trouble (seriously kids, that's lame). The manager was being very nice and polite about everything, too, so WTH. Now my manager thinks I'm either retarded or whiny with a big helping of Drama Queen on top.
It's good to know I have no social skills whatsoever. *headdesk*
SO. At the grocery store I work at, we're advertising our new Mastercard. Except my particular store is getting stupidly desperate for applications, and has a) plastered every till and aisle with posters, b) spammed the intercom with announcements about it (which is great when I'm trying to make a page, so thanks, you knobs), c) tacked on some questions about the card onto the end of our hi-how-are-you spiel, d) stuck an application table in front of the doors, and e) charged one particular girl with parading up and down the lane, wearing a sandwich board and SCREAMING RANDOM CARD INFO as loud as she can; people look like they're gonna shoot the poor kid (seriously, what). REALLY GUYS I THINK ONLY A COUPLE OF THOSE ARE NECESSARY.
Basically, no matter where you go, you're surrounded by all this. If we don't make a certain number of applications each day, the store gets in trouble, so my managers have been really pushing it. To the point where if I forget to ask if the customer has heard about the card, I get in trouble. Nothing new, it's just one more question to my every-customer spiel. Okay.
Except I was having a crap day all day long: a day-long headache from the weird-ass weather, crammed school, no time for homework, etc etc of everyday university stress. And I ended up asking the question differently from the set wording, and occasionally forgetting to ask altogether. Sooo I got a talking-to.
Five times. In an hour and a half. By five different people.
WHAT.
AND I had a... damn, I don't even know how to describe how lame this is, a kids' wrestling champion-belt with MORE credit card info taped to it, stuck on my till. Like a dunce cap.
AND, AND. When my manager asked me why I wasn't asking correctly, I suddenly BURST INTO TEARS. I still have no idea why, it wasn't exactly upsetting, and I definitely wasn't pulling anything to get out of trouble (seriously kids, that's lame). The manager was being very nice and polite about everything, too, so WTH. Now my manager thinks I'm either retarded or whiny with a big helping of Drama Queen on top.
It's good to know I have no social skills whatsoever. *headdesk*