The Snow (and Shit) Storm of the Century

We actually got a damn snowstorm here in Wisconsin. It was so bad today that people were being excused from work. I bit and lit out early. I really don't want to even be in that damned building anymore. With good reason.

Don't know if you guys remember, but I got a "D" or Decision-Making day back in May. Now, this isn't a huge deal when you get right down to it; a lot of associates have gotten D days before. Hells, one of the cart pushers has had three of them. He admitted as much. And laughed about it. Now a D day is supposed to drop off your record within the span of six months. After that six month period, you are supposed to go back to the original disciplinary chain: a verbal warning, a written warning, a D day and ultimately, termination.

Not so in my case, apparently.

Early last week the head of head cashiers, "S", threatened me. With termination. For a bullshit reason. (She said I was reading at the front lanes. Bullshit. Rearranging magazines and tabloids is not I repeat, not reading them.)

Now remember, she really cannot do this. It's been over six months. The D day has dropped off my record; everything has completely reset. If I were to get in trouble legitimately, I'd get a verbal warning, not termination.

It's pretty damned apparent that S just wants to get the hell rid of me. She's looking for some sort of b.s. reason to try and shove me out the door.

I say, "Good luck."

After 12 days, I am either going to transfer the fuck out of that hellhole (and into a newer, but closer, hellhole) or pound the pavement and get a new job. And I can't wait to see the look on S's face when I finally tell her that I quit or I'm transferring. I'm pretty sure she'll launch into one of those "We really don't want to lose you" speeches; I'll have to fight the urge to laugh in her face.

Pray that I succeed in repressing said urge.

--Weasel, "Mmmmm, new house smell! Better than new car smell!"

For Fuck's Sake...!

He's at it again.

Fred Phelps. Protesting the death of Coretta Scott King.

So, I ask you: is it wrong to wish for a tornado to tear through Phelps' backyard, wiping out him and his entire flock?

--Weasel, "Cause if that's wrong, then I don't wanna be right."

Time Off

It's a beautiful thing.

I'm on day two of a three day stretch; this feels absolutely wonderful. Just me, Prime, the cat and an assload of packing to do. Life just couldn't be better. :)

On top of all this great news, we finally got some fucking snow! Woohoo! (Yes, I love snow. So sue me.) It gets even better: the Sow has left me alone for the past few days. Yes, you read that right- she's been leaving me alone. The Sow's been so "nice" to me I almost hate the idea of transferring.... NOT! :D

In other news, we're going to have to go box hunting soon. We'll need quite a few more to pack up all of our stuff for the Big Move. Hee, a house. An honest to Primus house of our own! I'm so happy I could pee myself!

--the grinning and giddy Weasel

Dumbass Warnings Pt 1

As a cashier, I see a lot of idiotic (or "Anyone with functioning common sense would know not to do this") warnings on packages. Today's case in point- a warning on a box of cereal with a free bonus iron-on patch:

"Do not iron shirt while wearing."

--Weasel, "No, I am not making this up."