FRUSTRATION!
Holy crap, guys. I had the most frustrating day at work. There were tears of fury in my eyes for half my (nine hour) shift.
It all began with the Evil Russian Bitch from Hell. That's my new name for her. You'd know what I mean if you met her. She's got a constant sneer on her face, a superior glint in her eye. The first time I ever met her, I said "hi, I'm Justina," and she smirked and pointed to my hair and said (this is word for word,) "UGH. Why did you do THAT?" Then she stalked off. She regularly will grab clothes from me while I'm putting them away and say with a sneer "NO. WRONG PLACE." I've witnessed her actually SHOVE customers away when they're in her way. She once smirked at a SUPERVISOR and said "Ugh, you look awful," because the woman's shirt was slightly stretched out on the bottom.
She also sucks at her job. SUCKS. I've had to do her work for her a million times during weekend shifts before because she's so bloody slow.
So today I was putting clothes away in the same aisle that she was working in. It was about my seventh rack of clothes I'd put away that day, my feet were sore and I hadn't eaten since 9 am. I was in a bit of a rush, as I could only go for my lunch break after I'd finished with the rack, and I was already 4.5 hours in to the shift without a moment's rest. Now, the clothes are always colour coordinated. I had a pair of black shirts in my hand. The black shirts were about five feet away; the dark navy ones were right in front of me. I shoved the black shirts in. No biggie, right?
Evil Russian Bitch from Hell certainly seemed to think it was. She took my shoulder, spun me around and shoved the shirts in my face, saying, "EXCUSE ME. EXCUSE ME. WHAT COLOUR ARE THESE?!"
"Black," I said. She sneered back.
"So why did you put them HERE?" She motioned to the dark navy shirts, then shoved the shirts back in my hand. As I'm pretty used to this kind of behaviour from her, I just shrugged, said "sorry" and put them with the black ones. Then I walked on and thought nothing more of it.
Twenty minutes later, I found out that right after the incident, she had gone to a supervisor and told her that I was terrible at my job, and deserved to be fired. She proceeded to find every employee that doesn't know me very well, and snicker and roll her eyes while whispering not-too-subtley to them and pointing at me.
Hooooly shit. This means war, bitch. Now, the supervisors know me. They also know Evil Russian Bitch from Hell. Oh, how they know her. So when I told them what actually happened, they weren't very surprised. "I'm sorry," said Fred. "We'll talk to her, don't worry."
Obviously they didn't, though. When E.R.B.F.H got off work, I was just bidding up on my till. She walked over to me with a smug look on her face and went, "I tell them because, if you want job, you do it PROPERLY. Okay?"
"Yes," I said, "And if you want nicer reactions from people, you could stand to be a bit politer. I've been really offended by you many times in the past."
She smirked and said "I just tell you what colour shirt was." Then she left.
FUUUUUUUUUCK! The rest of my shift was filled with complaining/senile/smelly/just plain idiotic customers and I fucking hated everyone. BLAH!
It all began with the Evil Russian Bitch from Hell. That's my new name for her. You'd know what I mean if you met her. She's got a constant sneer on her face, a superior glint in her eye. The first time I ever met her, I said "hi, I'm Justina," and she smirked and pointed to my hair and said (this is word for word,) "UGH. Why did you do THAT?" Then she stalked off. She regularly will grab clothes from me while I'm putting them away and say with a sneer "NO. WRONG PLACE." I've witnessed her actually SHOVE customers away when they're in her way. She once smirked at a SUPERVISOR and said "Ugh, you look awful," because the woman's shirt was slightly stretched out on the bottom.
She also sucks at her job. SUCKS. I've had to do her work for her a million times during weekend shifts before because she's so bloody slow.
So today I was putting clothes away in the same aisle that she was working in. It was about my seventh rack of clothes I'd put away that day, my feet were sore and I hadn't eaten since 9 am. I was in a bit of a rush, as I could only go for my lunch break after I'd finished with the rack, and I was already 4.5 hours in to the shift without a moment's rest. Now, the clothes are always colour coordinated. I had a pair of black shirts in my hand. The black shirts were about five feet away; the dark navy ones were right in front of me. I shoved the black shirts in. No biggie, right?
Evil Russian Bitch from Hell certainly seemed to think it was. She took my shoulder, spun me around and shoved the shirts in my face, saying, "EXCUSE ME. EXCUSE ME. WHAT COLOUR ARE THESE?!"
"Black," I said. She sneered back.
"So why did you put them HERE?" She motioned to the dark navy shirts, then shoved the shirts back in my hand. As I'm pretty used to this kind of behaviour from her, I just shrugged, said "sorry" and put them with the black ones. Then I walked on and thought nothing more of it.
Twenty minutes later, I found out that right after the incident, she had gone to a supervisor and told her that I was terrible at my job, and deserved to be fired. She proceeded to find every employee that doesn't know me very well, and snicker and roll her eyes while whispering not-too-subtley to them and pointing at me.
Hooooly shit. This means war, bitch. Now, the supervisors know me. They also know Evil Russian Bitch from Hell. Oh, how they know her. So when I told them what actually happened, they weren't very surprised. "I'm sorry," said Fred. "We'll talk to her, don't worry."
Obviously they didn't, though. When E.R.B.F.H got off work, I was just bidding up on my till. She walked over to me with a smug look on her face and went, "I tell them because, if you want job, you do it PROPERLY. Okay?"
"Yes," I said, "And if you want nicer reactions from people, you could stand to be a bit politer. I've been really offended by you many times in the past."
She smirked and said "I just tell you what colour shirt was." Then she left.
FUUUUUUUUUCK! The rest of my shift was filled with complaining/senile/smelly/just plain idiotic customers and I fucking hated everyone. BLAH!