Life's a Bitch

Gods, I fucking hate my job.

As you all know, the glorious fuckers at my place of work (aka the 69th Layer of Hell) decided that attending Prime's brother's funeral was an unexcused absence. Before anyone asks, yes, I went in on time. It was a "good" thing I did. The moronic head cashier who had taken my call earlier that morning had not marked me as being potentially late. In other words, had I skipped out on the first few hours of work, the idiots in charge of that hellhole would have tried calling my apartment, wondering where in the hell I was. And when I would have arrived there, I would have ended up in the Ad Office getting my ass chewed out for being late. Worse still, since I called in Monday, I probably would have been written up or fired for missing time on Friday. And these idiots bitch and whine that the media is after them, trying to make them look bad.

But it gets "better". Just yesterday, one of the busiest shopping days of the season, I'm stuck on an express lane, getting yelled at by the heads to go faster because we have lines. Uh, no shit, asshole! Of fucking course we have lines! And me ratcheting up my speed didn't help the situation much. For every one customer I got out of the store, three more got in my lane!

But nothing tops what the assholes have been doing lately. On Tuesday and Wednesday, they've been calling me back early from my breaks. Not because we're busy, just because they think I've been gone too long. I swear to Primus, I damn near walked out Wednesday, when head (case) cashier KS tried to bawl me out in front of customers.

Man, I can't wait for tomorrow. I'll be checking for any local job openings. If I score a new place of employment, my current hellhole won't know about it.

--Weasel, "Fuck the two week notice shit. They don't deserve it."