take this job and shove it up your puckery ass
I'm Quitting My Job.
fuck Wendy's. i hate my job. i hate my fucking manager. i hate the fact that im selling meat to over weight, greedy, slobbering, passiver-murderous FAT FUCKS who want more for less and want it quick as possible. i hate being told im not adequate or fast enough for my minimum wage-name tag job. i hate being told i need to smile more, even though my face aches from the stress of contorting my facial muscles into unnatural shapes. i hate being forced to do mental math, i being told to over charge my customers.
I FUCKING HATE MY JOB.
im starting my job hunt all over again. once i have a new job in line, im quitting. fuck the 2 weeks notice. im quitting.
this job, is pulling on all of my moral fibers of which i am strongly made.
*my manager told me directly to overcharge my customers whenever i saw the chance. and to throw away the receipt as soon as its printed so they cant see what i charge them.
*im serving meat. im a vegetarian.
*my boss seems like the type for whom i would have to follow a sexual harassment suit against.
*my boss is a prick who bad-mouths my other manager when she isnt on duty.
*my boss is more concerned about profits than anything else.
*my boss refuses to get off the man-rag.
*i hate house work. and thats what i do, i vacuum, i wipe down, i clean the bathrooms, i mop, i scrub the floors. I FUCKING HATE HOUSE WORK.
*the pay SUCKS BALLS.
*the country music is getting to me.
so my last reason wasnt very good...but still. i dont care. i hate my job. every day i come home i want to cry. stupid as it may seem, because i dont like selling meat. when bringing things from the back, i purposly avoid the grill side so i dont have to face the bloody cow carcass burning away. i go round the salad prep side instead. and because Wendy's is "fresh, never frozen" the meat truly is bloody...
ive gotten to the point where i dont even want to look at something dead anymore.
i cant take this job anymore. i dont want to be the cute show-pony behind the register. i hate myself every day that i work. but i have thursday off. and saturday. i hope to say "i quit" on monday afternoon.