An Update

I want to give my readers (all 2 of them) a quick "head's up" as to what will be happening in the next few weeks.

First of all: today will be the last day that I will be making any major updates to Rhymes With Idiot. I'll be too busy on Tuesday and Wednesday to write anything, because of all my last minute preparations and such. On Thursday, I'll be flying out to Frisco, Texas for BotCon 2005 and won't be back until the following Monday. Expect a full BotCon report on Wednesday the 28th.

In early October, I'll be grabbing a copy of Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness. Expect a few "blog-throughs" of my quest. A few days afterward, I'll be heading to Chicago's Navy Pier to get myself a Mystic Ticket at Pokémon Rocks America. Expect a report on that as well, although it will be quite a bit shorter.

After that, I'll be doing something a little different: I'll be baring my soul, so to speak. I won't go into the details just yet, but I'll be telling my side of a story that took place eight years ago. It'll be long, hard and a difficult read (and even harder to write) but I need to do this to help myself move on and let go.

Now, I know what you're going to say, "Let bygones be bygones, Weasel. Don't air dirty laundry." Well, it's been about eight years so this slag is hardly new, most everyone who knows me knows about it, and it's about frigging time I told my half of the story. Nobody else wanted to hear about it eight years ago, but by the Gods, they will hear it now, whether they like it or fucking not.

And that's pretty much everything. Today I'll be cleaning up the apartment, packing and hopefully doing a little bit of laundry later. Tomorrow, I'll be heading out to pick up a few essentials and Wednesday I'll help Prime pack his suitcase. (Squeal!) I can count the hours now!

--Weasel, "I'm going to BotCon! I'm going to BotCon! I'm going to BotCon! Wheeeee!"

YES!!

First off: I'm on vacation!

Second off: the Sow is on leave! I won't have to see her for at least three months! WOO HOO!!

--one happy Weasel

SNAFU à Trois

It just keeps getting more and more interesting, so to speak.

Cashiers are no longer allowed to walk from the Customer Service Desk to their check-out lanes with any money: a head cashier has to escort them. Same thing applies if the cashier is leaving for lunch or for the end of their shift. Now according to one of the head cashiers I talked to, this was a procedure that should have been followed since the first day we opened. It's a little method that's supposed to help prevent theft. Fine. Whatever.

I also found out the real reason we lost the phones on the front lanes: dumbass customers. It seems idiots, jackasses and fuckheads called our home office, complaining that the paging was "too loud". Fine. Whatever. I can't wait until one of these same idiots needs a price-check at the front lanes. They'll have to wait until a head cashier can get back to the cashier, and Gods help Mr Idiot Customer if this happens in my lane. Mr Idiot Customer will be getting the unadulterated truth, no matter how much it hurts.

And our manager Assface is getting dumber and dumber, as if that could even be possible. When it comes to ad-matching, the customer does not need the ads. You read that right; they need no ads at all when it comes to our ad-matching program. Which means the customer can make up any price at all and we have to give them the item for that price. Fine. Whatever. But then it gets really stupid. If an ad has an item advertised for a "your price after mail-in refund/rebate" price, we have to give the customer the rebate price! Which means the customer can get the rebate doubled! But I sigh and say again: fine. Whatever.

But if Assface wasn't stupid before, he's really gotten moronic with this little brainfart of his: he wants to stop group carding. Okay, let me explain: if a group of customers who look like they may (or may not) be old enough to purchase tobacco and alcohol try to purchase these items, we have to card everyone in the group. The reasoning? Someone in that group may be buying the age restricted item(s) for an underage person, which is called a "third party sale". As far as I know, we're supposed to make sure these types of sales do not happen; as to whether or not third party sales of age controlled substances are legal, I'm thinking no, though I'm really not sure. But Assface wants to drop that little safety net. Fine. Whatever. But that little screw-up could cost Assface dearly. If someone makes a third party sale, and this happens during a sting operation, we could be looking at some serious fines. And losing our right to sell age controlled substances.

But, hey, what do I know? I'm just a cashier. Who has a little something called "common sense".

--Weasel, glad she's on vacation

Nice Move, Idiots

Warning! This post contains language that some people may find objectionable, so if you don't like swearing, leave now.

As if the reports of looting, murdering and raping after Katrina weren't bad enough.

It seems that members of some law enforcement agencies are shooting stranded dogs in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana. I hate to tell them this, but they are shooting at the wrong goddamned animals. They should have been shooting those fucking looters and armed gangs that were terrorizing the city. Bravo, you jackasses, bravo.

--Weasel, liking human beings less and less each day

SNAFU Part Deux

What the frak is wrong with our store manager? I mean, is he stupid or just retarded?

Okay, I get to work yesterday, get on my lane (#9) and notice that the phone on that lane is gone. Puzzled, I look around. Every checkout lane that used to have a phone no longer has one; they've all been removed. By now, I'm pretty confused. I know good and damned well that there is no way in hell (barring an act of God) that every frakking phone on the front lanes could possibly go down. So I asked a head cashier just what in the hell was going on, where the slag were our phones and her answer floored me: the store manager, aka Assface, had them all removed. Every last damned one of them (except one on lane 6, which is now marked "for management use only"). When I asked why, her response was even more shocking: seems Assface didn't like hearing any of us cashiers page. He thought we were doing it too much and worse still, we weren't "professional" enough for his taste.

Well, Assface has just managed to completely fuck himself.

There were only two reasons I ever used those damned phones: for price checks and for requesting perishable items pick-up. Now, I can't do either. Which means I'll be tossing a helluva lot more perishables (hey, how can anyone pick them up if I can't call the department?) and if a customer says that a $150 television is $50, they get it for $50 minus the $3 dollar credit we offer for mispriced items. (I can't call back to the department and check, now can I? I have to take the customer's word for it.) It goes without saying that our already low morale will sink even lower and our already low store profits will drop like a rock.

And I laugh. For in a few days, I'll be on vacation and won't have to see that hellhole for the next ten days.

--Weasel, thinking of hitting the "help wanted" sites in her area

SNAFU Central

What a way to run a business.

Was stuck on self-check again and none of them were working correctly. One was completely silent, one had been shut down, and all four of the self-check lanes were freezing up left and right. But the kicker was this:

Self-check #43 ran out of receipt tape, in the middle of printing out a receipt. I ran to the pay station to get another roll and found a whole lot of nothing. So, I put in an order for receipt tape and waited... and waited.... and waited....! It took ten minutes before I got the damned paper and an additional five minutes to reprint the receipt from the previous order! Aaarrrrgh! I swear, my supervisors don't know their asses from holes in the ground!

--Weasel, "Why must I be surrounded by frickin' idiots?!"

The Sow that Broke the Weasel's Back

Today started out as a pretty decent day... until I got to work. And the Sow, my least favorite head cashier, had to open her big fat mouth. It's not just that she has a really bad attitude, it's not just that she's a complete and utter snob, it's the fact that she acts so damned condescending. Which is how she treated me. In front several customers.

Frak it.

I'm seriously considering calling the home office on her sorry ass, mostly because our manager (who has shit for brains) won't do a damned thing about her. The Sow literally has the entire management team wrapped around her piggy little hooves since she does nothing but kiss ass and she thinks she can get away with this crap. I mean, management has yet to step in and do anything about her poor attitude (and her tendency to stick her fat snout in crap that has nothing to do with her), even though a lot of other employees have complained about her. Gods, the front end was so much quieter and a lot less stressful when the Sow was in stationary. Why the hell did she come back to the frakking front end? Why the hell couldn't she have gotten a position in personnel so I'd never have to see her ever again?

At least I have my vacation coming up in three weeks... if I can tough it out until then.

--Weasel, job-hunting will commence in three... two...

Bad News on My End

Ever feel like the Gods are kicking you while you're down? And even worse, they enjoy it?

Well, it's finally September, which means BotCon and my vacation are coming up soon. I was pretty happy about that until a few days ago: one of my best friends won't be able to go to the convention this year. It goes without saying that I'm upset. He's one of the main reasons I go to BotCon; Prime and I only get to see him once a year. Now, barring a miracle, we won't have the chance to see him.

This completely blows. If we're lucky, we'll see him next year... if the Gods don't decide to pull anymore bullcrap.

--Weasel, getting even more depressed than usual

Open Letter to an Unconcerned Citizen

This little diatribe was inspired by my overhearing a conversation between a female customer and another cashier. Feel free to cut and paste a link to this post in your own blog or on-line forum; please do not cut and paste this text. The following post is Weasel's Own Wise Words, Copyright 2005.

Dear Blonde American Female Citizen in Checkout Number One,

I'm the cashier who was standing not ten feet away from you. I overheard your little whine fest as my co-worker rang up your order. I understand that you're "sick and damned tired of hearing about that Hurricane Katrina crap" over and over on the news. I understand that you wish the news channels would simply "drop it and go on with their lives" like you have. I am truly sorry that the news media covering this disaster is disrupting your normal television viewing.

Oh, wait. I'm not.

Lady, all you have to do is push a button on your remote control and change the damned channel. After that, those images disappear; you no longer have to see them again.

I'm pretty sure the people of New Orleans would love to be able to do that; just click a button and poof, their lives would just go back to normal. No floods, no looting, no deaths, no nothing. But guess what? They can't. They have to live through conditions that are best described as Third World in nature. Have you ever had your house collapse around you in 165 mph winds? Have you ever squeezed your mother's hand and told her you loved her before rising floodwaters swallowed her? Have you ever heard your children scream in fear as shots ring out around you while you try to look for food in waist deep waters that are filled with dead bodies and fecal matter? Have you ever helplessly watched a person die of dehydration and heat exhaustion? Have you ever suffered like this at all?

I'm willing to bet your answer is no.

So I say to you, "woman": how dare you. How dare you whine and bitch and complain about your life being inconvenienced when there are people in an American city dying of starvation and sickness. How dare you complain that this is tiring to you, when there are people living in those conditions, dealing with the looters, rapists and murders, along with the potential for disease. You've never seen a person sitting next to you die. You've never had to dig food out of a garbage can for your children. You've never had to constantly look over your shoulder wonder if you'll be raped or shot simply by walking down the street. You've never lost every damn thing you owned, save for the clothes on your back. You've never had to listen helplessly to the screams as your home fills with water, killing your loved ones and pets. You've never had to live through hell.

"Woman", go back home and watch your soaps, reality television or other crap. You, and those like you, are what is wrong with this country today. As for me, I'll contribute what I can to the hurricane relief funds because unlike you, I actually give a damn. As for you, I hope your neighborhood is never struck with a natural disaster. If it is, I hope you learn a very valuable lesson. If you survive to learn it.

Sincerely,

Weasel

Just a Typical Day

At least, it was in my neck of the woods.

Self-checks weren't working; one in particular had a faulty scale. The cashier who was working self-check nearly quit twice today. Once for management getting in her face for no good reason, the second, well.....

The store manager walked by self-check as it was royally frakking up. The cashier raced over and told him that one of the sc lanes had a bad scale. The store manager.... just kept walking. Never stopped. Never acknowledged that this cashier even spoke to him. That was the second time "D" nearly walked.

And store management wonders why employee morale is so blasted low.

--Weasel, "Can you say 'Duuuuuuuuuh'? Of course you can!"

Phred Phrakking Phelps Pharts Again

Will somebody please shut this asshole up?

I mean, seriously, please.
Someone.
Shut.
His.
Dumb.
Ass.
Up.

He lives in KansASS, right? Is it wrong to pray for a tornado to slam into his church? God, please, would ya consider it?

--Weasel, repressing the urge to scream

Insert Random Swearing

It just keeps getting better and frakking better.

Some idiot decided to start sniping at a hospital, and the looting in the hurricane ravaged areas is getting much, much worse. The violence is getting so bad that rescue operations have been slowed down. As Peggy Noonan put it, these looters (and other jerks like them) really do need to be shot.

And people wonder why I like cats over most humans.

--Weasel, thinking she should donate her money to United Animal Nations since animals don't loot stores and shoot at innocent people.

An Urgent and Serious Message

This isn't the most serious blog on the net; I know that. But for once, I'm going to be serious and ask a favor from anyone who may be reading this. If it is at all possible, please make a donation to the American Red Cross to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. If you can't do it by the net, then please call 1-800-HELP-NOW. You can also donate to the Salvation Army or by calling 1-800-SAL-ARMY. If you want to help the animals as well as the people, then I urge you to make donations to the United Animal Nations and to Noah's Wish.

Please, I'm urging everyone who is reading this to try and help out in this time of crisis. Thank you.