Episode 12: The One with the Bad Juju
Mel has some seriously bad juju. I mean some seriously bad juju. It's so bad, it warrants italics.
When I got into work today, she came up to me with a schedule I had made the day before. It was formatted and looked nice and pretty and wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, bad. Clearly, though, she was displeased. I gathered this when she asked, "Did you make this?" and then proceeded to say "It's a piece of shit." Actually , she described it using the word "ass" but I can't remember how she did it. She said we needed to redo it, and I said that was fine. I was, to say the least, a bit stunned by what she had said.
When Jeremy came in later, he started working on it. I told him when he needed information for the staff schedule to let me know because I had the info he needed. At the end of the day, Mel came over and asked about the schedule, which Jeremy hadn't finished (and I, admittedly, had forgotten). She asked for the info, and I pulled the sheet from one of my drawers. Her immediate reaction was to bite out, "Oh, look at that, she hasn't even started working on it yet!" My thoughts were: No, because Jeremy was going to do it. But I said nothing, wondering, again, why she was being so nasty. She took the schedule and showed it to Jeremy, who didn't think much was wrong with it, and snapped, "We can't give this to the Leadership! It's shit! Imagine if you got something like this!" (Again, she used "ass" as a descriptor, but "piece of shit" sums up her ass description well enough). I was shocked again, to say the least.
Now, I'm all about people having the right to say what they think about something. It doesn't matter to me that Mel didn't like the schedule. What mattered to me was her way of expressing her dislike. No one, no one, has the right to say something like that and, frankly, I'm disgusted that people do say things of that nature. It's alright to say "This isn't what I pictured" or "Let's make this more professional" but saying "Your work is shit" isn't necessary.
What really upsets me is that she's like this all the time.
Yesterday, a three year old (we'll call him Martin) was in hysterics in the office. His mom was an hour late in picking him up. Moreover, his mother picks him up every Tuesday at three. You don't leave a three year old for an hour when he expects you. You just don't. Three year olds don't get that you're late. They immediately jump to A. Mommy is dead; or B. Mommy doesn't want me anymore. So Martin is hysterical. One of the counselors takes him into the bathroom to clean him up a bit and I hear Mel saying, "I don't want that kid in our office. He's the one who gave Tyler pink eye. I don't want him in here."
Right. Because the poor kid consciously worked to get your son sick, Mel. I was completely flabbergasted that someone would ever say that about a three year old. The poor boy is in hysterics because his mom, who for the past seven weeks has come on time, isn't there to get him and all you can say is "I don't want the kid in our office?" Wow, that's pathetic.
And then there was the other issue today. I honestly don't understand my summer office staff coworkers. All of them are older than me, but they're completely irresponsible and they all have bad juju.
Today, when Kelly (our awesome receptionist) needed to eat lunch, none of them would cover the front desk for her, and they weren't doing much of anything. I told her I would, and I took my work up front with me. Because that's what you do. The phones need to be answered, so you answer them. Sarah came up with me because she's awesome, too.
Later, when Sarah and I are eating lunch, we were talking with Kimmy in transportation who probably has the hardest job of all the summer office staffers and she never complains. Ever. Well, she does sometimes when morons call at 2:51 to pick up their kid at 3:00 because they're "just down the road." The phone kept ringing, so Kimmy asked Rebeca (a year-round staff member who's been at Banner for years) where everyone else was. Rebeca said they went to lunch at 12:15. Kimmy, Sarah and I looked over at the clock, which read 12:55. We looked back at each other with what the hell expressions on our faces. We have 30 minute lunches. 30 minutes. Not hour long lunches. Not 45 minutes. 30 minutes. Then Rebeca tells us to answer the phones. Sarah explained to Rebeca that the others were done with their lunch 10 minutes ago; we had only started eating at 12:40 because we were busy doing their jobs for them.
So a few minutes later, Tiffany and Susan head out, together, with a note to deliver to a group. A note. One. Singular. They were gone for 45 minutes. I'm sorry, but it doesn't take that long to find a group. I do it all the time for photos, and I can generally get three groups in that time frame. Around 2:50-ish, Kelly, Kimmy and I were discussing this at the receptionist desk. Kelly took a call and went into the other part of the office to see if someone was around to deal with the mother on the phone. She saw Susan, Tiffany, Julie and Blaine just standing in the drive chatting. When she came back, Kimmy told her to go tell them off. She found Brad, the owner's son, and he told them off for her. Brad proceeded to talk to Rebeca about the issue of some of the summer staff doing nothing, and she was offended.
I don't get it. How can she be offended? They don't do anything! That's not something to defend them over! They're wasting the money the camp pays them. Later, Rebeca talked to Helen, the owner's wife, and Helen, who had heard the story from Sarah and me, pretty much told her that if they aren't working, they deserve to get yelled at and she, as the office assistant, deserves the same since she's supposed to ensure that we work.
Seriously bad juju is afoot. I don't even believe in juju, and I realize that the office's juju is falling down the shitter.
And, no, I'm sorry: I don't care if I walk all over your precious feelings. Shut up and do what you're supposed to do to get paid! Yar!
When I got into work today, she came up to me with a schedule I had made the day before. It was formatted and looked nice and pretty and wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, bad. Clearly, though, she was displeased. I gathered this when she asked, "Did you make this?" and then proceeded to say "It's a piece of shit." Actually , she described it using the word "ass" but I can't remember how she did it. She said we needed to redo it, and I said that was fine. I was, to say the least, a bit stunned by what she had said.
When Jeremy came in later, he started working on it. I told him when he needed information for the staff schedule to let me know because I had the info he needed. At the end of the day, Mel came over and asked about the schedule, which Jeremy hadn't finished (and I, admittedly, had forgotten). She asked for the info, and I pulled the sheet from one of my drawers. Her immediate reaction was to bite out, "Oh, look at that, she hasn't even started working on it yet!" My thoughts were: No, because Jeremy was going to do it. But I said nothing, wondering, again, why she was being so nasty. She took the schedule and showed it to Jeremy, who didn't think much was wrong with it, and snapped, "We can't give this to the Leadership! It's shit! Imagine if you got something like this!" (Again, she used "ass" as a descriptor, but "piece of shit" sums up her ass description well enough). I was shocked again, to say the least.
Now, I'm all about people having the right to say what they think about something. It doesn't matter to me that Mel didn't like the schedule. What mattered to me was her way of expressing her dislike. No one, no one, has the right to say something like that and, frankly, I'm disgusted that people do say things of that nature. It's alright to say "This isn't what I pictured" or "Let's make this more professional" but saying "Your work is shit" isn't necessary.
What really upsets me is that she's like this all the time.
Yesterday, a three year old (we'll call him Martin) was in hysterics in the office. His mom was an hour late in picking him up. Moreover, his mother picks him up every Tuesday at three. You don't leave a three year old for an hour when he expects you. You just don't. Three year olds don't get that you're late. They immediately jump to A. Mommy is dead; or B. Mommy doesn't want me anymore. So Martin is hysterical. One of the counselors takes him into the bathroom to clean him up a bit and I hear Mel saying, "I don't want that kid in our office. He's the one who gave Tyler pink eye. I don't want him in here."
Right. Because the poor kid consciously worked to get your son sick, Mel. I was completely flabbergasted that someone would ever say that about a three year old. The poor boy is in hysterics because his mom, who for the past seven weeks has come on time, isn't there to get him and all you can say is "I don't want the kid in our office?" Wow, that's pathetic.
And then there was the other issue today. I honestly don't understand my summer office staff coworkers. All of them are older than me, but they're completely irresponsible and they all have bad juju.
Today, when Kelly (our awesome receptionist) needed to eat lunch, none of them would cover the front desk for her, and they weren't doing much of anything. I told her I would, and I took my work up front with me. Because that's what you do. The phones need to be answered, so you answer them. Sarah came up with me because she's awesome, too.
Later, when Sarah and I are eating lunch, we were talking with Kimmy in transportation who probably has the hardest job of all the summer office staffers and she never complains. Ever. Well, she does sometimes when morons call at 2:51 to pick up their kid at 3:00 because they're "just down the road." The phone kept ringing, so Kimmy asked Rebeca (a year-round staff member who's been at Banner for years) where everyone else was. Rebeca said they went to lunch at 12:15. Kimmy, Sarah and I looked over at the clock, which read 12:55. We looked back at each other with what the hell expressions on our faces. We have 30 minute lunches. 30 minutes. Not hour long lunches. Not 45 minutes. 30 minutes. Then Rebeca tells us to answer the phones. Sarah explained to Rebeca that the others were done with their lunch 10 minutes ago; we had only started eating at 12:40 because we were busy doing their jobs for them.
So a few minutes later, Tiffany and Susan head out, together, with a note to deliver to a group. A note. One. Singular. They were gone for 45 minutes. I'm sorry, but it doesn't take that long to find a group. I do it all the time for photos, and I can generally get three groups in that time frame. Around 2:50-ish, Kelly, Kimmy and I were discussing this at the receptionist desk. Kelly took a call and went into the other part of the office to see if someone was around to deal with the mother on the phone. She saw Susan, Tiffany, Julie and Blaine just standing in the drive chatting. When she came back, Kimmy told her to go tell them off. She found Brad, the owner's son, and he told them off for her. Brad proceeded to talk to Rebeca about the issue of some of the summer staff doing nothing, and she was offended.
I don't get it. How can she be offended? They don't do anything! That's not something to defend them over! They're wasting the money the camp pays them. Later, Rebeca talked to Helen, the owner's wife, and Helen, who had heard the story from Sarah and me, pretty much told her that if they aren't working, they deserve to get yelled at and she, as the office assistant, deserves the same since she's supposed to ensure that we work.
Seriously bad juju is afoot. I don't even believe in juju, and I realize that the office's juju is falling down the shitter.
And, no, I'm sorry: I don't care if I walk all over your precious feelings. Shut up and do what you're supposed to do to get paid! Yar!