(no subject)

Dec 09, 2004 10:02

So drama at work. oh joy. Highschool really does not ever really end does it? As long as people keep up with the bullshit, it will always continue. The sad thing is, these people are over 50 years old. It's really quite sad. Anyways...back to the drama at work.

If you know me, and have been around me after i've goten out of work, or talked to me after I have gotten out of work, you have more than likely heard about Deb.

Deb is a stupid bitch that I work with. She is the epitamy of what it really means to be "white trash" she wears the acid wash jeans and has silly 80's hair still...can't speak correctly if her life depended upon it...and is an all around moody bitch. To top it off, she is an alcoholic. She's basically your average loser. She's over 50 years old and still doing the same work that I am, at 18 years old, and not getting paid all that much more than I am. And she's been there for 13 or so years. It's really quite pathetic. Anyways, for some reason, she gets into a mood and feels the need to pick on me. Why? I'm not too sure. I've always been nice to her, even now when she is mean to me, I continue to be nice to her. I feel that if I am mean to her that will be stooping down to her level, which is something that I could never bring myself to do. It's just too low.

So anyways, I want to get on with the story part of this. Last Friday I'm a work, we're all working our asses off, I have about 15 green scipts to count out, Ann is at the window with literally about 15 people standing in line, Diana is typing, Ron is checking...and what is Deb doing? Oh, shes standing in the back at the computer doing rechecks. (thats where we check to make sure we gave out the right medication and have the right doctor and the right number of refills and directions and such in the computer) So shes sitting there, while we are running around like crazy people, doing something that really could be done at any time. She looks at me and says "can't you help at the window? sheesh" and I completely ignore her and she just refuses to go to the window. So I go, and oh guess what? She stops doing rechecks and comes and does exactly what I was doing. that was what irked me to begin with. Then, it's time for my break, so I go. There is NOBODY there. Nobody at the window, no scipts waiting to be filled or typed, nothing. So I go, apparently while I am gone, we get incredibly busy. And guess what? It's all my fault. And all she does it bitch bitch bitch bitch about it. Constantly, and makes stupid comments under her breath "well if people hadent ran off and gone on break while we were so busy" She was just being an all around bitch. Made stupid comments and was incredibly rude all night. It was just too much. I came home and I was bound and determined to never go back. I didn't ever want to work again. I was pissed and going to quit. Well, since my mom is friends with my boss (they went to school together and whatnot) she called him in the morning and told him about what I was saying to her the night before and he talked to me about it when I went into work.

Anyways, it is supposed to stop and it hasn't. Her comments are just incredibly unnecesary.

I dont know, I'm just bitching about how I almost quit. I was very close to it. Very close indeed. Dave basically begged me not to quit. So I haven't. And Julie and Carol and Ann don't want me to go either.

Anyways, there are sadly like two factions at my work. There is the Deb faction, which consits of Deb 1, Deb 2, and Billie. Then there is basically an "anti-Deb" faction and that one consits of myself, Carol, Julie, Molly, and Ann. Then there is Sharon and JoAnn who are both neutral. heh. Anyways, it's silly. Sadly, the Deb faction is made up of people who will listen to and do basically anything that Deb asks them to. The rest of us, are people that refuse to do so, since she is not our boss. And the neutrals...well Deb never asks them to do anything. So it's really rather silly.

well for right now. I will leave it at that. I might update a bit later. bye.
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