Slow Burn

(Click title for an appropriately loud and angry bit of music!)

So my good mood from my trip to BotCon lasted about a week. Then the bullshit started. Only this time....

I'm not allowed on self-checks. I have no idea as to why, but our stupid ass ZM (I'll call her Bitchimus Maximus) has said this and her retarded-assed words are apparently fucking law. (I have an idea as to why and it's a BS reason and it deals with the dipshit store credit cards we're supposed to pimp, but I digress....)

So yeah, the self-checks will be left in the hands of cashiers who don't give a fucking shit and I'll be forced to watch them fall the fuck apart. The self-checks are one of the few things in that goddamn building that I actually give a damn about.

....pissed don't even start to cover this horseshit.

But this will bite the dumb little bitch squarely on her ass. I know for a damned fact that I will be stuck on a register next to the self-checks and when some customer needs help and asks me, I'll tell them no. If Bitchimus Maximus wants me to help anyone on the damned self-checks, she can stop playing dumbass head games, act like a respectable human being for once in her pathetic life and lift the restriction. Until then, it's not my goddamn problem. Fuck her and the ass she rode in on, as far as I'm concerned. I'm. DONE.

I've told Prime he's going to start editing my magnum opus in August. Doesn't matter whether or not I'm ready, I'm done screwing the hell around. I want out and I want it now. Everyone says I should be happy to have a job, but I sure as hell am not happy dealing with the fucking abuse that management is so happy to heap upon us. We're expendable and they know it. The abuse ain't worth the paycheck.

Primus give me strength for I truly need it.

Everything you say to me
(Takes me one step closer to the edge)
(And I'm about to break)
I need a little room to breathe
(Cause I'm one step closer to the edge)
(I'm about to break)

Sick of It All

I'm... tired. Tired of the bullshit, the backstabbing and all the crap that comes with my damn job. I'll fill you in later. Right now, I'm too fucking pissed.

And Today in Utter Fail...

So Prime had taken the day off today and was hitting the net this morning when he found cheaper-than-standard tickets to the Brewers home opener on StubHub.com. (Cheaper than what a lot of the nutbars posting tickets to the site had been asking since they went on sale. $15 apiece for tickets that would have been $20, I think, directly from Brewers.com--whoa, yeah, jump on that!) So he nabbed a pair, got me out of bed and after a few errands (print 'em out, hit an ATM, get an oil change--all as quickly as possible), we were on our way.

Things don't always work out as you plan. Sometimes, human stupidity can really fuck you over.

Prime and I were driving through the Oshkosh area, which has some massive-ass road (de)construction in the area. This is an area of 41 that has been under reconstruction since the beginning of time. The sun will fucking implode and there will still be some dumb jackass out there filling in fucking scrapes because the state of frickin' Wisconsin can't be sussed to pay to get this shit done right the first goddamn time. As we were winding down the road, we hit a pothole. And I mean we HIT a fucking pothole.

I was hoping that all we got out of it was a jolt and nothing else. I was wrong. I was very wrong.

Hitting the pothole fucked up the rim to our front driver's side tire. We now had a flat with about an hour to the first pitch.

Prime got the spare on as quickly as he could and we restarted towards Fond du Lac, but there was no damned point, we realized as we hit North Fond du Lac. By the time we would get to Miller Park, it would easily be the middle of the sixth inning or the top of the seventh.

We had to turn around and go back home. Pissed does not even begin to describe how I felt. Prime and I were heading though Fond du Lac, me crying my eyes out, Prime trying his hardest to pretend not to be miffed at having to eat $40 for my sake. I wanted to be there, for my guys. And now I couldn't, all because the state of damned Wisconsin (or county of Winnebago, or whothefuckever it is that's responsible for the stretches of US 41 that are perpetually under construction) cannot get off its fucking ass and take care of the damned roads. Seriously, if you dumb shits actually paid to have the shit taken care of rather than half-assin' quarter-assin' this slag, we wouldn't have to deal with fucking reconstruction every goddamn year. You guys are quickly becoming a second Chicago; barrels of goddamn fun every fucking summer, year after year. Why the hell do I pay frickin' taxes if you can't be moved to actually use the money to take care of this bullshit. Honestly, stop picking your asses, stop raiding funds and take care of it, rather than pulling this dogshit. /rant

The day wasn't a total loss. Prime and I hit the Oshkosh Target and grabbed a box of Topps Opening Day cards, grabbed a late lunch at the local Sonic (mmmm...limeade) and we hit a nice little sport card shop called Big League Cards. Prime nabbed a few classic Brewers cards he didn't have and I grabbed myself a 5000-count storage box (which I desperately needed, trying to complete this set) and a card of a young(er) Prince Fielder. (Damn, he was a cutie back then. Not that he ain't bad lookin' now...rowr...)

EDIT (1601 CDT): And the Crew lost, 2-1 to Atlanta...SHIT!! :frustrated headdesk: Talk about insult to goddamn injury...but I guess I'd rather the Crew hit the speed bumps now rather than later. (Still hoping for the Series, it's early, don't let it get to you, blah frickin' blah...)

--Weasel, "Maybe we should send the bill to the fricking state of Wisconsin; it's a thought."

Ugh...

I'll put something more substantial up here later; right now I feel like slag.

--Weasel, "Gonna go collapse now."

Five Degrees of Pissed Off

As of this very moment, it is taking every bit of restraint in my body not to throw my stupid mouse across the room.

I was doing a few rewrites and edits to my work and thought I had saved. Or rather, I was attempting to save when the fucking mouse pulled the "What the fuck, you don't need this shit open anymore" bullshit that it's been pulling for the past few weeks. So my file was closed out. Before I could save.

When I reopened the file, I could see the word count was off.

There went a thousand words and a shit-ton of tweaking on my part. I'm surprised I'm not mute right now, I howled so loudly. (Oh, and I have a chest cold. That'll do wonders for my slagging voice.)

Prime's pretty much under orders: New mouse. Now.
No, I have zero desire to use the damned touchpad; that's the little fucker who "helped" reformat my work several weeks ago without me asking. That was damn near a week of cursing I'd rather forget.

Here's hoping Prime can do something with Auto Recover. If not, I'm fucked. And doing this shit again tomorrow. :grumble:

--Weasel, "Me, the old mouse and a sledgehammer. That's all the hell I'm asking for..."

Failure is Not an Option... It's Automatically Bundled with Windows

Just a word of caution--never assume that letting Windows Update run is going to turn out smooth as silk, peachy-keen, etc., etc.

I'm fine (now), Alexa One is fine (now),...sheesh.

--Weasel "Let's not have this shit happen again, okay?."

Still Kickin'... Sorta

I'm still here; it's just been a really bad couple of weeks. The job has been wearing at me (at least Bitch Convoy is freaking gone!) and there's been other shit that's been going after me. It's not really something I can go into, either.

I'll try and update soon... if I don't feel completely slagged.

--Weasel, "Life sucks but the Weird Al concert was pretty awesome."

It's Getting Ugly

My job situation has gotten, for lack of a better term, out of control. I can't go into the details; if I do, there could be some real trouble.

Suffice to say, I don't want to be in the building at all. I hate even seeing the slagging facade. The place just makes me cringe now.

To answer your question, mein liege, it won't take much convincing for me to hit Slag-A-Con. I'm probably going to put in for the days off by the end of next week. I need the break. With everything that's been happening... I may just end up being committed before next BotCon. It's all I can do right now not to scream.

But for all the bullshit going on in that building right now, I have one thing to say: I am not letting you fuckers break me. It ain't happening.

And Today in "What the Flying Fuck?!"

You know DA, I have to admit I'm seriously glad you're not going to SDCC this year.This is why.

Fred Phelps is going to Comic-Con. Can I get a "What the fuck?" here?!

His reasoning? Oh, it's stellar, trust me:

Are you kidding?! If these people would spend even some of the energy that they spend on these comic books, reading the Bible, well no high hopes here. They have turned comic book characters into idols, and worship them they do! Isaiah 2:8 Their land also is full of idols; they worship the work of their own hands, that which their own fingers have made: 9 And the mean man boweth down, and the great man humbleth himself: therefore forgive them not. It is time to put away the silly vanities and turn to God like you mean it. The destruction of this nation is imminent - so start calling on Batman and Superman now, see if they can pull you from the mess that you have created with all your silly idolatry.

You know something, Freddie boy? I haven't called out to your god in a very long time. The last time I did, I was in my twenties and your god did absolutely nothing to help me. He simply sat on his heavenly posterior and watched me squirm. So I quit calling to him, since it's obvious he won't fucking answer.

Instead, I have called out to HIM. HE has answered. HE has granted mercy. So tell me, Freddie boy: which god is truly real? The one from your holy tome or the one from the damned comic book? Because I will tell you, the one from the comic has been much more helpful than the one from your tome. Make of that as you will.

--Weasel, hell bound idol worshipper and damned proud.

Coping

The first full week back to work is a killer. I have no real desire to be there and the memories of the recent convention just makes it harder for me to adjust. But once I'm through that first week of drudgery, I'm all right. Well, as all right as one can expect. But there have been changes, not all of them good.

The biggest? One of our good head cashiers has stepped down, thanks to management. They tried like hell to get him fired and he got sick of it, so he's stepped down and now he's at service desk.

I could cry. Seriously. He was the only head who was friendly and reasonable. Now management has pissed him off and we've fucking lost him. We're stuck with a bunch of fucking dumbasses who don't know what the flying fuck they're doing and who act rudely towards us simply because they can.

What a helluva way to start work after having the time of my life.

--Weasel, wishing it were June and she was in Cali...

I Quit Humanity.

This is why.

Yep, BP don't want y'all to see what's going on down there. But, don't worry; it ain't so bad. (Better have a strong stomach if you click that link. It'll make you sick. Trust me)

Somebody get me the hell off this damned planet. I'm done. I have no faith in the freaking lifeforms that are running the place. I swear to Primus, nothing can fuck things up like a human.

--Weasel, "Somebody get me off Planet Dirt. Now."

Are You Shitting Me?!

I did not just read this: Obama plan expands offshore oil drilling.

Awesome. Just fucking awesome. I've been down this road before--twenty years ago when I was living in NC. I fought like hell to make sure this bullshit wouldn't happen. We were able to dodge the bullet for a while but not anymore, it would seem.

They'll be drilling in Virginia. How long will it be before the Outer Banks are ruined? What are the chances Wrightsville Beach will end up spoiled? We all know spills have a tendency to spread out; like it or not this will affect NC. To hell with Michael Bay, this rapes my childhoods. I could absolutely cry.

Stop the world, I wanna get the fuck off. NOW.

Primus, am I ever glad I voted third party.


EDIT @ 1:08PM: CNN just showed us a nice big fat map of areas approved for offshore drilling. Guess who's on there? If you said the coast of North Carolina, you'd be right. (I just screamed at the television in abject rage when I saw that.) Godmotherfuckingdammit. Now I am going to go cry.

GAH!

That's pretty much what I said about twenty minutes ago. Only it was louder and a lot angrier.

As you may or may not know, I've been on the world's biggest writing tear as of late. I'm doing my damnedest to write what looks to be a novel (which is why I've been slacking in the blog department... gotta work on that...) and it's been coming along pretty decently. So twenty minutes ago I opened up my file on Alexa, preparing for another fruitful day of writing.

That's when I noticed that the word count was off by nearly 2,500 words. Oh and seven pages had simply vanished.

What. The. FUCK?!

Where the hell did my work go?! Sure, it doesn't seem like a whole helluva lot, but it's a shit-ton of blood, sweat and tears for me. And here it had simply disappeared into the freaking ether or something. About a third of a chapter was gone, along with a bunch of edits I had made to some of my previous stuff. It wasn't there. It was as if I had closed the file without saving any changes at all. And yes, that is completely impossible because I hit CTRL+S about three times before I closed the file late yesterday. I always make sure I save my stuff. Always.

Yeah, I kinda wanted to cry at that point. And trudge back upstairs to get my notebook so I could re-transcribe everything I had written yesterday. Not an awesome prospect, I tell ya.

That's when I remembered that I had always backed up my file on a 40 gig drive that Prime had purchased from a coworker a couple of months ago. Earlier this month, I told him I didn't exactly want just one lone copy of what I was working on; bad things could happen and if the file was accidentally deleted, I'd be in a shitload of trouble. So he suggested I save a back up on the 40 gig. It sounded like a good idea, so I did. So I opened up the external drive and prayed that the same thing hadn't happened to my secondary file.

The back up was fine. Everything was there. So that external hard drive just paid for itself by saving my sorry ass. (Thank you, Prime. I seriously owe you for this!)

So what did we learn, class? "Always back your shit up!" Very good! Trust me, it's a lesson I ain't gonna forget.

--Weasel, "Now if my damned heart rate would come the hell down and my hands would quit shaking, I'd be fine...!"

The Bullshit Report

I've been meaning to make a post about this, but I haven't had the time or energy until today.

My current locale is becoming exactly like the old hellhole. Even down to the backstabbing and lying.

We've had at least four people fired in the last couple of weeks. One was the lone overnight cashier who was supposed to be terminated at the beginning of her shift, but management waited until she was nearly done for the night to finally walk her out the store. (The truly idiotic thing? They waited for her to say something they didn't like so they could let her go for that. I just love working around spies and backstabbers, don't you?) One of the cashiers who works around the same hours I do has a second job. He's told people he has a second job. Three days ago he was marched into the office by management and chewed out for "trying to recruit people to his new job". No, that wasn't the case but management doesn't give a flying fuck. As for myself, I've somehow injured my left foot so walking is complete torture for me. I don't know exactly what I've done, but the area near my heel is swollen. I've been using a myriad of different muscle rubs and pain relievers to help take the edge off but to no avail. There have been days that I've left the building about to cry, the pain is so bad.

There's really nothing I can do about it. I have to hope to Primus it heals on its own.

I'm just a cog in the machine, easy to replace.

Like I said, my job is little more than a time waster. I want to write. I don't want to stand behind a goddamn cash register and stare at the unwashed masses all day. Every second I'm at that hellhole is one less second I can write. And it frustrates me to no end.

The one thing that keeps me from losing my mind? The fact that I can come home to Prime and hop on Alexa for even a few moments. When my fingers touch the keyboard, I become so relaxed and...dare I say it? I'm happy. Listening to some really good music helps, too.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more writing to do. I have to make the best of my days off, you know.

Internet Problems

Well, we've had some... ah, interesting problems that have developed over the last several days.

Don't ask me how (I'm thinking the January thaw had something to do with this shit) but we lost the phone for a few days, followed by the internet.

So yeah, no 'net on my day off. I was one unhappy little Weasel.

Everything seems to be working again, 'net wise. The phone is more or less working; it does cut in and out but at least the damned thing can ring and get a freaking dial tone! *headdesk*

This has not been an awesome week. Not in the least. All this bullshit was just a few more nails in the coffin.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go slam my head into the wall until I frigging pass out. See ya.

--Weasel, "The fireplace'll be perfect; it's made of stone. Not like it gets any other use..."

I'm Doomed! OMG!!111eleventymillion11!!

At least according to this article.

For those of you who don't want to click over to the fail, here's a rundown of some of the "gems" on the list:
Don't be smarter than your mate.
Don't have an "immature" hobby. (Action figures? Comic books? Video games? Oh no!)
Don't take a dump in front of each other. (Gotta maintain the "mystery", whatever the hell that means.)
Don't take separate vacays.
Don't have kids.
Don't have a big bed. (You totally need a cramped little twin sized bed so you can like cuddle and make out and stuff!)
Don't have a TV in the bedroom.
Don't change your appearance. At all. Ever.

Prime and I collect Transformers. Our hobby is the reason why we met. We had a big TV in our bedroom at one point... and used it to play video games. I dyed my hair red a few years ago. We sleep in a huge-ass king sized bed. And we just got married this year, after being together for damn near a decade. Yeah, we're seriously doomed. /sarcasm

--Weasel, "This just in, CNN fails. Film at whenthefuckever."

It's All Downhill From Here

It's only October and I'm about to burn out. We haven't even hit the "real" Ca$hma$ shopping season and I'm about ready to rip my hair out.

Work is going straight to hell. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

For the past several days I haven't been anywhere near the self checks; all but one of the heads have been going out of their way to make damn sure I don't get sent to either one. Instead, they're sending people who hate being on self checks over there and it's pissing everyone off. I've had other cashiers asking me why I'm not over there: I just say that I haven't a clue.

We're short a head and a cashier, so the front end is in a total disarray, there are fucking spies who are reporting people to management on bullshit charges, the latest schedules are total messes, it's a fucking nightmare.

And there is nothing that can be done about it. The company knows that the job market is extremely tight right now, so they can abuse us and we won't do or say anything.

I don't know how much longer I can deal with this. I'm close to the breaking point as it is.

--Weasel, trying to make it to BotCon....

It Would Be Funny If It Weren't So Damn Stupid

Today I'm covering a lunch break on grocery self check when head cashier John comes over to have a chat with me. When he starts, he admits that what he's about to tell me is one of the dumbest things he's ever had to say, so I know in advance that this is going to be bad. Really bad.

We have a brand spankin' new rule, just handed down from management. All cashiers, while on the clock and working, have to look "pleasant" and smile. Constantly. Doesn't matter if your day sucks ass, if you've just been screamed out by a customer, if your life is a living hell and falling apart around your ears, you have to smile and be all insipidly happy-looking so the customers don't think you're "grumpy".

Oh, and if you're not smiling you could get coached.
Yep, you could get written up if you're not pleasant enough. Good luck trying to enforce that rule.

This is part of the "Fast-er, Friendli-er" bullshit that's just been rolled out. I knew this shit was a bad idea from the start but seriously, this is out of control.

The word is already spreading. Most cashiers think it's a joke; the heads and management hardly ever smile or act pleasant at all. Same with the other floor associates. One cashier said flat out that the customers would probably find all this more creepy than anything else. I have a tendency to agree. But hey, what do I know?

I tried my damnedest to act as happy as possible today. But it was a half-hearted attempt. You can't fake being happy; it looks really forced when you try.

When I was done for the day, I was drained, frustrated and utterly tired of the stupid. So I wandered down the toy aisle, trying to clear my mind and relax a little. The toy department is one of my favorite areas of the store. And the sight of Transformers always lifts my spirits. It doesn't matter if I already have them in my collection; seeing one hanging on the pegs at work is a bit like seeing an old friend. (I'm weird, I know.)

I'm glad I did. What should be waiting for me but a Transformers RPM Battle Pack--Bumblebee versus Barricade.

Another Bumblebee. Popping up after I've had a really bad day. The guardian angel appears again.

I could really get used to this, you know. It makes the stupid a lot more bearable.

--Weasel, "Between him and BotCon, I honestly think I can make it through the workplace idiocy."

It's Getting Interesting

It seems we have yet another shakeup coming; Sammy's taking over part of softlines, so one of the other head cashiers will be a 'super' head so to speak. The head in question is going to be Missa. I... really don't know what to say about that choice other than it seems like a much better pick than the rumored first one, John. No offense, but the guy barely knew his ass from a hole in the ground. I mean, he can be a decent guy but he's completely clueless.

Even worse? We're losing two heads, so three are being trained to fill in the empty spots. But the choices in this case aren't the world's greatest. One of them, Ivy has already let this go to her head. Another one, Marvin just isn't very sure of himself. The third, whose name escapes me at the moment, seems competent enough, but we're not going to know until the "trial by fire". So it'll be... pretty interesting at work in a few weeks.

I just don't know how this is going to affect the front end. The 'Fast-er, Friendli-er' crap has been anything but, so many of the other cashiers are pretty stressed out and I'm at my wit's end. Even worse, Cathy is pulling the usual BS which is driving everyone mad. Case in point, she did it again this past Monday--she ordered me to take people from lanes 1 and 4 because "the lines were long". I had four full self-checks, one of which had an alcohol purchase, and two others had mildly incompetent customers, so I was running around all four like an idiot. There was no way I could help anyone except my own customers. I nearly blew a gasket because of her idiocy.

I can't deal with anymore of this crap. I need another BotCon. Like now. Unfortunately, because I now know when the 2010 JoeCon will be, I believe that I also have a fair idea of when BotCon 2010 will be, and... (/cries)

--Weasel, slowly losing what's left of her mind...

A Public Service Announcement

If you ever move to Wisconsin and you're looking for a credit union, stay the hell away from Lakeview. Apparently, they do not know their ass from an effing hole in the ground.

--Weasel, "It'd be easier pulling teeth with a screwdriver than dealing with these morons."