(no subject)
Well, I got into my first-ever car accident this morning.
As accidents go, it wasn't really that bad. I sideswiped a parked car in the train station parking lot, and unfortunately, the driver was still nearby and saw me do it.
Not that I would've run off or anything! The problem was that she descended on me, screaming like a banshee that I'd killed her car.
God, lady. It was just a Saab, and the damage was very clearly cosmetic.
Anyway, she was freaking out, which naturally got me all upset, and I'm still distressed. The cops came and took a report, which I guess is good, because that way she can't claim more damage than what actually occurred.
After the cops left, I had to call home and tell my dad that I injured the car -- which is, technically, still his, because transferring it to my name would've canceled out the ten-year warranty. Anyway . . . I was sweating that one, but he was surprisingly cool about it.
Yeah, I know. There's something really funny about hearing yourself say, "My dad is going to *kill* me," when you're thirty-three years old.
So Mom answered the phone, and I was really glad that she had called me Wednesday night and apologized about last Sunday, because naturally I burst into tears as soon as she asked me what was wrong . . . and it would've been really awkward if I was still mad at her.
There's something about talking to Mom that always makes me feel better, even if there's nothing she can do. I dunno why.
Talked to my dad later, and he just said, "Accidents happen. You won't be doing that again. Oh, and call State Farm right away."
Like I said . . . surprisingly cool.
So even though the Great Car Debacle of the morning is over (for now), the day has not improved.
The store manager of my part-time job continues to prove her ineptitude by -- get this -- scheduling two new employees to work *before* she received approval from the Corporate HR to even hire them in the first place. Now the schedule is full of holes, and she actually told one of the other managers, "That's not my problem. I'm off today."
Bitch.
So I got a phone call at work to come in tonight, and I said no, I'm not even listed as available on Friday nights. It's my night to stay late here at the library. You know, my *real* job.
Also, I was scheduled 4 - 8 on Saturday night, and then Tara told me that I had to stay until closing because nobody else could work. And I refused. Sorry, the schedule was already posted. You don't just *tell* me that I have to work extra because *you* couldn't get a schedule right.
So I guess it's as punishment that I was scheduled for Sunday, when I'd requested off.
I think I just might not show up for work.
Alexis said she might not, either, and wouldn't *that* be funny? Nobody shows up, store stays locked up for the day . . . HA!!! Take that!
But really . . . if I don't show up for work on Sunday (after being originally told that I had off), all that will happen is that I'll be written up for it. I can't be fired out of hand, just for missing a single shift.
But I'll probably go in anyway, just because I'll feel guilty about sticking it to the assistant manager, who's on duty that day.
Sigh. Now I'm right back to wondering if I should just quit.
As accidents go, it wasn't really that bad. I sideswiped a parked car in the train station parking lot, and unfortunately, the driver was still nearby and saw me do it.
Not that I would've run off or anything! The problem was that she descended on me, screaming like a banshee that I'd killed her car.
God, lady. It was just a Saab, and the damage was very clearly cosmetic.
Anyway, she was freaking out, which naturally got me all upset, and I'm still distressed. The cops came and took a report, which I guess is good, because that way she can't claim more damage than what actually occurred.
After the cops left, I had to call home and tell my dad that I injured the car -- which is, technically, still his, because transferring it to my name would've canceled out the ten-year warranty. Anyway . . . I was sweating that one, but he was surprisingly cool about it.
Yeah, I know. There's something really funny about hearing yourself say, "My dad is going to *kill* me," when you're thirty-three years old.
So Mom answered the phone, and I was really glad that she had called me Wednesday night and apologized about last Sunday, because naturally I burst into tears as soon as she asked me what was wrong . . . and it would've been really awkward if I was still mad at her.
There's something about talking to Mom that always makes me feel better, even if there's nothing she can do. I dunno why.
Talked to my dad later, and he just said, "Accidents happen. You won't be doing that again. Oh, and call State Farm right away."
Like I said . . . surprisingly cool.
So even though the Great Car Debacle of the morning is over (for now), the day has not improved.
The store manager of my part-time job continues to prove her ineptitude by -- get this -- scheduling two new employees to work *before* she received approval from the Corporate HR to even hire them in the first place. Now the schedule is full of holes, and she actually told one of the other managers, "That's not my problem. I'm off today."
Bitch.
So I got a phone call at work to come in tonight, and I said no, I'm not even listed as available on Friday nights. It's my night to stay late here at the library. You know, my *real* job.
Also, I was scheduled 4 - 8 on Saturday night, and then Tara told me that I had to stay until closing because nobody else could work. And I refused. Sorry, the schedule was already posted. You don't just *tell* me that I have to work extra because *you* couldn't get a schedule right.
So I guess it's as punishment that I was scheduled for Sunday, when I'd requested off.
I think I just might not show up for work.
Alexis said she might not, either, and wouldn't *that* be funny? Nobody shows up, store stays locked up for the day . . . HA!!! Take that!
But really . . . if I don't show up for work on Sunday (after being originally told that I had off), all that will happen is that I'll be written up for it. I can't be fired out of hand, just for missing a single shift.
But I'll probably go in anyway, just because I'll feel guilty about sticking it to the assistant manager, who's on duty that day.
Sigh. Now I'm right back to wondering if I should just quit.