Merry Fucking Blitz-mas, Assholes

Welcome to my nightmare.
Seriously, is this bullshit worth a goddamned $200 flat screen TV? I don't fucking think so. What the hell is wrong with you fucking morons?!

Keep it up, guys. My faith in humanity is dropping below zero now.

--Weasel, "Fuck it. I want off this miserable forsaken rock. NOW."

I Work With Idiots

But then again, what else is new?

Nearly tore out my hair on Thursday: Someone brought up a shower head with a clearance sticker on it. The sticker said $9.00 but it was meant for toys (Dept 7) and the shower head in question came up $27.88. So I called Hardware and asked them about it. The guy working back there said that it was not a clearance item and the 27.88 price was correct. I tell the customer this. She demands a head cashier. I explain everything. He takes off. When he comes back he says that I have to override it, per Tom.

You remember Tom, right? The fucking idiot dickhead? Yeah, not only is he a lousy manager but he just cost our fucking store damn near twenty bucks. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. It seems as long as the items is marked with a clearance tag I have to sell it at clearance price no matter what.

Fast forward to last night. Seems the person working in stationary was redoing an endcap and didn't change the sign. So I sold four (or was it six?) Crayola Light Writers for $1.88. They actually retail for $19.97. If management pisses about it, too fucking bad. I saw the sign myself and considering the night before, why fucking try to do the right thing?

I'd scream, but I can't do it loud enough and I'd just ruin my voice anyway. There's no damn point.

It Begins

Doing laundry right now. Prime's upstairs watching Stargate SG-1. Thankfully, I had a relatively short shift today; I don't think I could have been able to stand a full one.

Work's getting busier. A lot busier. I think our business has doubled this year as compared to last year. I'm already about to tear my hair out as it is; I dread to even think about Black Friday.

This is not going to be a pleasant Cashmas season. I just know it.

News Flash

I fucking hate people.
That is all.

--Weasel, trying to repress the urge to kill someone who really needs/deserves it.

Coping Mechanisms

Cashmas is now in full swing at my store; we lit up our trees a couple of days ago.

I'm not looking forward to this. At all. But I'm finding ways to cope.

I've been telling myself as of late that one day worked is one day closer to BotCon. And it's worked, to a degree. Work is a little less unbearable.

Now if only there was a way to shut one of my co-workers up permanently, I'd be in heaven. (He'll be bitching mightily because Obama won. According to him, I'll be in a burqa by next year. Whatthefuckever.)

--Weasel, "2009 can't come quick enough."

Doctor!

David Tennant is leaving Doctor Who.

The Tenth Doctor is the one who got me completely and utterly hooked on the series. Because of his somewhat smart-ass personality, I fell for him almost immediately. So it goes without saying that I am a bit upset hearing this.

I'll miss you, Mr. Tennant, and thank you. You will always be my Doctor.

Tarzan Boy

It was noon. I was standing at the grocery self-check podium, carefully watching "my guys". From out of nowhere came the rhythmic thumping of sneakers on concrete. Two boys, maybe high school juniors, were running straight toward me. Curious, I watched as they sped from the general merchandise side of the store towards the grocery side. Then I noticed two other boys, running in front of the registers. It was then that I couldn't help but do a double take.

Three of the boys were dressed normally. The fourth was only wearing his briefs and had what appeared to be an animal skin tied around his head like a cape. He looked as though he were trying to mimic Tarzan or George of the Jungle.

The entire front end fell silent and watched the spectacle, too stunned to turn away. I admit my mouth was hanging open in shock for a fair portion of the episode.

Without saying a word, the boys raced out the door. Once they had departed, everyone roared with laughter, myself included.

We're still not sure why Tarzan Boy decided to drop by our store. If he was planning a Halloween prank, he missed the mark by a day. The entire incident (almost) makes me miss the days when I was that young and stupid.

--Weasel, "Never a dull moment where I work."

Sending Out Best Wishes

Today, as most of you already know, is Dan Gilvezan's birthday. I wish him nothing but the best. (And I hope he wouldn't mind swinging by BotCon in the near future. His adoring fans would love to see him again.)

Just A Few More Random Thoughts

It's a rather lovely fall day and I have nothing better to do, so it's time once again for:

Weasel's Random Thoughts

* It's been said that a woman begins to enjoy her vacation from the moment she begins to pack while a man enjoys his when he arrives there. If this is true then it will be a very long 8 months because I've already begun my BotCon packing. Yes, it's true: I have no life. (Stop snickering, Prime.)

* I want to go to Universal Studios Hollywood in 2011. It will be awesome. Here is why. Guess we know the location of a future BotCon...I hope I hope I hope I hope I hope...

* No one is exactly sure where BotCon will be held, but I'm getting ready for it as if we're flying. Ever since 2005, it seems that odd-numbered years have meant a couple of plane tickets while the even-numbered years are within driving distance. With this sort of pattern established, I'm pretty much expecting a jaunt in the sky to next year's con which I really don't want. I'm kinda hoping to be proven wrong. You have no idea just how much I hate flying....

* No matter how much laundry you do, you are never done. Seriously, it never ends. (Apologies to Simon Furman. Or curses. Reader's Choice.)

* I have been training my cat to sit. It seems to actually be working. Teaching Sammy to speak or roll over probably won't happen...frankly, he doesn't need any prompting to do either. Hey, he already knows how to say "hello".

* We have 14 days until the election. This will all be over soon, thank Primus. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same thing about football season. (After the crap with Favre, I wish I would never hear the word "football" uttered by anyone ever again.)

* Prime and I have been on a "Masters of the Universe" tear. We've been watching the DVDs of the 2002 series for the past couple of nights. Been kinda nice to see them, really. And I learned something new while watching: I had no idea that they had done morals at the end of most of the eps.

* People are already beginning to do their Cashmas shopping. And stores have already started putting out their Xmas displays. Yet another holiday shopping season arrives. I can hardly wait. /sarcasm

And that about does it. Be sure to tune in next time when I type out another pointless message on various and inane topics simply known as... Random Thoughts.

For High Speed Internet Only

I want this like you wouldn't believe. When I get a laptop, I will beg for this thing.

--Weasel, "Fastest thing on the 'net, baby."

Next Stop: Hell

Work has gone straight to hell. I don't even want to get into it but we're rapidly falling apart. With the way things are going, I don't know if I can make it until BotCon. My steady chant of "Next June" has been the only thing that has been keeping me sane.

I don't know how long that will last.

Where's My Damned Prozac?!

For the past couple of days, I've felt a little bit like House: I've had a limp and I don't really want to take people's crap. My right foot has been hurting like a bitch lately (it's better, thank Primus) but my attitude has gone straight to hell.

Tom is pissing everyone off. Including me.

A few days ago, Tom chewed me out. Why? Overtime. Where did that overtime come from? The idiots not getting out on time. But that wasn't what really pissed me off; it was his reply afterward. "This is strike two. Third strike you're out."

What.
The.
FUCK?!

Where the flying fuck was strike number one, asshole? Or did you just pull this shit out of your ass?! I had to have swung the bat a time before this, you jackass and I sure as hell don't remember swinging at jack shit. God fucking damn!

More and more cashiers are getting pissed off. There are head cashiers who are now stabbing people in the back. We're not allowed to do any pages over the PA system anymore. And we now have about a month before the Cashmas rush begins. I'm about ready to strangle an idiot. Any idiot will do.

I love my job. Really I do.


Pic from here.

"Not My Problem"

This is the new mantra I have at work now. All the bullshit that goes on in that building is no longer my problem. I'm only watching out for myself and my friends. The rest of the building can go straight to hell.

More on the bullshit later.

:Grumble:

I hate my job. I know, I know. What the hell else is new? But we've sunk to even lower depths of bullshit than ever before.

It all started a few days ago. One of the other cashiers, Jenni, cam back from break. She was crying. It seems that she had run to the restroom before heading back to her register and one of the co-managers, Tom, wasn't too keen on this. He tore her a new one over it. Here's the problem: None, and I do mean none, of the head cashiers had a problem with her doing this. It was Tom who threw a massive shit fit over it. As she put it: "If it was such a problem, why wasn't I told a long time ago?"

But it gets better. We're no longer allowed to talk to any of our co-workers. Well, certain cashiers, it seems. If you kiss the right ass, you can talk for hours and not get into trouble. If you don't, you'll get yelled at. It's favoritism, plain and simple and it's pissing me and a shitload of other people off severely. I'm to the point where I'm ready to turn in some of the heads and their friends for chit-chatting excessively. And to hell with getting in trouble. I just don't care anymore.

I need a laptop. Like now. Then I could cobble a manuscript together, sell the fucker and get the hell outta Dodge. If I don't, I'll probably be dead of a stroke with 3 years.

--Weasel, "I just love my job. Really I do."

Life in the State of Stupidity

It seems the mayor of our fair city wants to do away with the goth teenagers who are "hanging out" at the city parks in the evenings. So now groups of 15 or more teens must have a permit to use the park and if they're under 18 they need a chaperone. Seems the neighbors have been freaking out about them since they (GASP!) dress in black and (HORRORS!) use foul language and some of them (DEAR HEAVENS!) smoke.

Call me crazy, but don't we have more important things to worry about? Unless they're pissing on my front lawn, I don't give a damn what they do. Why the hell does city hall have to legislate this?

--Weasel, "My fucking tax dollars at work here."

And Today in "Not Giving a Shit"....

On Sunday, Prime had to go in for a little bit of overtime. Me, I had to work. So Prime dropped by my store to say 'hi'.

So much for that idea. One of the heads, Mary said I couldn't ring up his order since I "knew" him. Prime was pissed (and that is putting ti very mildly) and so was I. But it gets better.

The next day I'm working on an express lane and someone found a prescription left in a cart. They brought it up to me, so I called a head. Mary, the same moron from the day before came up and said that I was supposed to hold on to it. About three seconds later, the customer who left it behind came back in and claimed it. But I was extremely pissed. Here's why:

Prescriptions are supposed to be taken back to the pharmacy immediately because they can be stolen. And guess who would have gotten in trouble if that prescription had been stolen? None other than yours truly. I have half a mind to turn her in to management for that bit of stupidity, but I doubt it would do any damned good.

Whoever said that the cream rises to the top forgot that crap floats, too. June cannot come soon enough.

--Weasel, "So... tired.... of the bullshit!"

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Ned Yost has been fired.
So this is what it feels like to be kicked in the gut. It's not a great feeling, I tell you.

--Weasel, now wondering if October will actually happen for the Brew Crew

Holy. Crap.

So for the helluva it, I decided to ask for a Mew over GTS last night. I sent out a male Yanma holding a Custap berry and asked for a Mew at level 10 or higher. After 15 minutes, I checked my progress. Nothing. I waited another 10 minutes and tried again.

A Pokéball falling from the sky greeted me. I had just received a Japanese Mew.

I checked its summary and the ID number caught me by surprise: 50716. The number looked familiar. But since Prime was on the PC, I couldn't check on it. So I did it today.

Looks like I got me a Hadou Mew. I got an event Pokémon.
This is gonna be one spoiled rotten Mew.

And Somehow, I Just Can't Care Anymore...

I saw Susie the other day. She's doing well, has another job and said flat out that yes it was a bullshit reason that was used to fire her. I'm just glad she could get another job, considering how fucked up the economy is right now. And I'm glad she's in a better position.

There are days I really hate my job. Monday was one of them.

It seems management doesn't want any of the cashiers to place perishable items into any of the soda coolers up front. Basically, we now have to call the departments and pray to Primus that somebody comes up to get their shit.

Yeah, that doesn't often happen. I've lost count of how many times Frozen Foods has never shown up to get their crap.

Why do I have the feeling I'm going to be defecting out a lot more shit? Oh well. Whatever. I can't even give a shit anymore.

--Weasel, "Can we fast-forward to next June? Please?!"

That Was Fast...

The vid's been yanked. I hate to break it to them, but it's too damn late. The info is already out on the net. Let the speculation begin!