Dr. Pretorius
I need a new job. I decided it was about time that I take a shit on Banana Republic's door and move on with life. This comes as no surprise when it comes to a retail job, but when you've been working at a particular store for two years - you really know how the store runs; well, my reason for desperately seeking a new job is the fact that the managers prioritize one employee who doesn't even fucking live in New Jersey anymore over the entire store when it comes to hours. I'll explain it to you: this girl goes to graduate school and lives in a studio apartment at NYU. She transferred to a Banana Republic on 5th Avenue but whenever she visits her parents in Jersey, she could just call up my store whenever the hell she wants to work and they immediately put her on the schedule. Now, that is completely unfair - the store where I work at is already low enough on hours being that it's an outdoor mall and we don't get as much as business (or payroll, in that case). Our hours are being cut left and right. Two weeks ago I mentioned that I had a lot of hours actually scheduled me for the next week and wanted to keep them, and my manager promised not to cut me and that she would make a note of it. Well, when that week came along and I came into work and looked at my schedule, I was cut several hours. Several hours that are worth close to $100-worth of labor that could frgually feed me for a month. At the bottom of the schedule, I saw that this girl's name was written in pen on the bottom, working a whopping nine hours on both of the days that she wanted to work. Fucking ridiculous.
What made it worse was that I was promised not to be cut and I was cut anyway. And then on top of that, the bitch had texted me earlier that week of I had wanted to give up what was originally my nine-hour shift on Saturday so that she could take my hours. Who the fuck does she think I am? She obviously does not care that I am not the best well-off person in the world, and to just willingly give up a rare full-day shift like that? Fuck her, seriously. That shit grinds my gears. I wanted to uppercut that bitch with a jousting pole dipped in primative fecal matter. Guess who the girl is? "Hammered." Or as my good friend Tyler gave her several very suitable pseudonyms,
Ms. Dramatics
Ms. Encyclopedia Dramatica
My other good friend Amy (who has as a matter of fact met her on several occasions) and I came up with:
Ms. Bombastic
A prime specimen of something we call our "Big Chin Theory," in the case that pretty much 98% of people we know or see that has a big chin is usually a fucking asshole and more than beyond full of themself. *
So, two days after Banana Republic had pulled its last straw, I went to Urban Outfitters and picked up job application (after purchasing a new skirt and sweater as well, of course). I returned to the store on Tuesday to drop it off and asked the cashier how long I should wait to be contacted. She said that they usually made phone calls on Mondays for a group interview. Even if she gave me clear and concise information such as that, I am still nervous as all fucking hell. Questions like, "What if the manager decides to call some people up earlier than Monday because their applications look more promising than mine, and I just don't get a phone call because I fail?" or "What if I just never get a phone call?" or "If I don't get a phone call, should I call them up and be an annoying pain in the ass?" or just, "What if I don't get the fucking job even after the interview?" Guys, I really want this job. I like the environment and the clothes significantly better than Banana Republic. Urban Outfitters suits my lifestyle better and I don't have to dress like a fucking tool for work and be slipping and paining my goddamn feet in heels all day, and not to mention they have toys (FUCK YEAH, TOYS!) and hot guys everywhere, employee or not. Yeah, I'm more shallow than a bird bath.
*More shall be explained in the near future when it comes to Dr. Fargali and Dr. Nguyen's exciting new discovery on the theory of large mandibles and the gradual growth rate of the average jaw paralleling with the ever-increasing volume of an individual's ego.
What made it worse was that I was promised not to be cut and I was cut anyway. And then on top of that, the bitch had texted me earlier that week of I had wanted to give up what was originally my nine-hour shift on Saturday so that she could take my hours. Who the fuck does she think I am? She obviously does not care that I am not the best well-off person in the world, and to just willingly give up a rare full-day shift like that? Fuck her, seriously. That shit grinds my gears. I wanted to uppercut that bitch with a jousting pole dipped in primative fecal matter. Guess who the girl is? "Hammered." Or as my good friend Tyler gave her several very suitable pseudonyms,
Ms. Dramatics
Ms. Encyclopedia Dramatica
My other good friend Amy (who has as a matter of fact met her on several occasions) and I came up with:
Ms. Bombastic
A prime specimen of something we call our "Big Chin Theory," in the case that pretty much 98% of people we know or see that has a big chin is usually a fucking asshole and more than beyond full of themself. *
So, two days after Banana Republic had pulled its last straw, I went to Urban Outfitters and picked up job application (after purchasing a new skirt and sweater as well, of course). I returned to the store on Tuesday to drop it off and asked the cashier how long I should wait to be contacted. She said that they usually made phone calls on Mondays for a group interview. Even if she gave me clear and concise information such as that, I am still nervous as all fucking hell. Questions like, "What if the manager decides to call some people up earlier than Monday because their applications look more promising than mine, and I just don't get a phone call because I fail?" or "What if I just never get a phone call?" or "If I don't get a phone call, should I call them up and be an annoying pain in the ass?" or just, "What if I don't get the fucking job even after the interview?" Guys, I really want this job. I like the environment and the clothes significantly better than Banana Republic. Urban Outfitters suits my lifestyle better and I don't have to dress like a fucking tool for work and be slipping and paining my goddamn feet in heels all day, and not to mention they have toys (FUCK YEAH, TOYS!) and hot guys everywhere, employee or not. Yeah, I'm more shallow than a bird bath.
*More shall be explained in the near future when it comes to Dr. Fargali and Dr. Nguyen's exciting new discovery on the theory of large mandibles and the gradual growth rate of the average jaw paralleling with the ever-increasing volume of an individual's ego.