Phone Home

I rant a lot about the stupidity that I encounter at work. Especially with the phone calls. I don't know if I get an inordinate number of these stupidity calls, or if it's my perspective on them, but either way, here's several years worth of 'em:

• When dialing into our store, the first voice you hear is automated, and the first thing it says is, "Thank you for calling " I realize that it probably pays a lot of businesses to put the wrong name in there, so once you get a real live person, it makes perfect sense to say, "Is this ?" You can justify it by telling me that because the real live person is required by company phone protocol to say, "How may I direct your call?" without identifying the store (again) but seriously? You dial the store's number, and when it connects to us, we identify ourselves...you still need to ask? Really?

• Our store has the words "Home Improvement" in it's official name. Do you really think it's helpful, when asked, "How may I direct your call?" to ask for the "Home improvement department" and to get pissy when asked for more specific information?

• I do know that there are entire stores devoted wholly to plumbing and heating supplies. I understand that many places who carry those kinds of things lump those two things together. But when you call and ask to be connected with "plumbing and heating" and I tell you that in our store, those are in two separate departments, and you argue with me over needing to speak to plumbing AND heating, there's a 50-50 chance I'm gonna guess wrong in which one you really need. Play along and pretend that, because I work there, I actually do know which is kept where.

• Along that with that thought...if you ask me for something (say, caulk or glue) that is in a department that doesn't make sense to you, can you, just for shits & giggles, accept that when I connect you with the paint department, and you don't tell them what you need, and they transfer you back to me, and I explain that it's in the paint department, and then send your call back to the paint department, that I just might know more about what's in this store and where it's kept, you know, because I work there. If you must insist that it's not going to be where you're told it's going to be, don't get mad and call Customer Care and report me as unhelpful--it's not me with the problem understanding English.

• If you're going to assume that everything we say to you is lie anyway, why do you bother with us? Do you enjoy the stress? 'Cuz quite honestly, even if you do, I don't, and I think, in this instance, it's not nice to share.

• If for some reason the gods of retail personally have a grudge against you, and we have collectively managed to piss in your oatmeal every blessed time you call or come in here, take the hint: stop shopping here. Stop calling. Stop. Just STOP. If it's THAT bad, you can control where you go to get whatever the hell it is you need. (and the flip side of that is if you're asshole enough to make every person you've ever been in contact with hate you and feel ill when they see you, please consider whether or not the problem is really YOU. 14,000 others in your community can't be all wrong.)

Shit & Other Bad Words

I know this is my 3rd time through this sort of thing, and I shouldn't be surprised. Honestly, it's more that I'm exhausted by having to deal with all this shit AGAIN. I'm just fucking tired.

Since assholes are an on-going theme in my life right now, I guess my co-workers decided they needed to be all up in that action. Asshole customers aren't enough? Thanks for thinking of me, you assholes. You know who you are.

Today was day number 6 in a 7-day run. I got to be in the lumber area again. Because I love getting bitched at because the usual cashier is actually allowed to have a day off now and again. And I love when the dirty, smelly contractors (a fancy word for many who simply cannot hold down a regular job) tell me how to do my job--yes, down to when to hit the Total key--and then say stupid shit like, "Oh, you must be new here since you don't know who I am."

Really. That's all just really way more than I deserve.

So, instead of offering me a doughnut, or a cup of coffee, what I was handed today my own ass. By assholes who are supposed to be on my "team." (Again with the "There's no *I* in Team" bullshit.)

What makes it worse is that these are guys I've worked with for years. Of the 5 of them at that desk, two of 'em have worked with these 12 years...and they KNOW the shit I put up with from this company, and the customers. Of course, one of the two is a Certified Self-Centered Asshole (He wouldn't piss on his grandmother if she were on fire if there wasn't something in it for him) from day 1...I expect this sort of shitty treatment from him.

The rest of 'em, well, it's been lovely being delusional with you. No more delusions. Sorry that you all turned out to be such fucking ass jerkwads.

What exactly happened today was this:  these assholes were asked to cover my lunch break. ONE hour. I had to practically BEG to get that coverage. AND even after I had to do that, they still took their sweet ol' time about who would do it. I know you boys are busy playing with yourselves and each other, but yanno, you're getting paid here, and you're all over the age of Pukedom. Once one of 'em DID actually venture towards a register, I was engulfed in trying to find and use a customer's account. I already know my break is going to be massively late to start, but that's OK. I should be able to direct other people to you assholes, finish this, and jet. So I can get back to my register and you can go back to making yourself feel importantly assholic, yo.

Asshole on register clears HIS line and scurries back behind the desk. Leaves me with the engulfing credit thing, and PEOPLE in my line. Because I can't turn off my light, unless I want to not have a job anymore.

Several 10 minutes later, I have to ask  fucking BEG the assholes to get back on register. They're mostly standing around, chatting with each other, watching the line form. And I'm on the phone with the credit people trying to get this done. I don't ask. I don't fucking beg. I take out my not-supposed-to-have-it-on-me cellphone and dial into the store. The fucking store I'm standing in. Working. They notice that, and scurry to open a register.

I finally finish what I started 30 minutes ago, and half a head of hair lost to stress ago, and another cashier is there. Finally. But I can't go on my lunch, because she's confused as to why there's the asshole on a register. Because my register light is on, and his isn't. I can't leave until I have coverage. And no lights on Asshole isn't coverage.

Oh, and I have to fax a copy of that receipt to the company who have just been horribly patient about this whole credit thing. So I go to the Asshole desk and ask for help with the fax machine. Many years ago, I've used a fax machine. Here? No, not so much. Not at all. Ever. In 12+ years. So, I ask for help.

What I get is another Asshole, being a condescending asshole. Even AFTER I tell him that I've never fucking faxed anything from this store, EVER. When he starts his condescending Assholism the 2nd time thru, I just take my stuff and leave. While someone I thought was a friend, a decent person, a stand-up count on him kind of guy--the OTHER one I've worked with for 12 years--is laughing at how I'm being treated. I'll find another fax machine in an Asshole Free Zone, TYVM.

Great for you, guys. Wow. I'm just fucking numb with being impressed. I am sooo hoping I can work with you again tomorrow.