The Cry-Me-A-River update:
A week or so ago, she was in to the store on her day off. Of course, she brought her spawn, and probably hung out in the breakroom with them for at least an hour.
Anyway, when she left, she was following another employee out of the parking lot. The light was red, but he did the smart thing: he stopped, looked, then made his right hand turn. CMAR? She just followed him out. Never looked at the light, never bothered to stop, didn't even expend the effort to LOOK to see if anything was coming.
She got T-boned (yes, kids in the car.) Oh the DRAMA! She did break her arm and of course, an ambulance was called. Kids were A-OK, because God watches over fools and little children.
The kicker? Turns out she doesn't have a license, either.
Showing posts with label cry me a river. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cry me a river. Show all posts
Monday, April 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
On The First Day
My first day back to work was Monday, February 1. Yippee.
Cry Me A River went home early--big shocker there. With it being my first day back (and the rumors that were flying were that I quit, and that I was fired) I received a rather larger amount of attention from my coworkers. As she witnessed this, in between her breaks (she was there for 3.5 hours of her 7 hour shift and she was back in the break room every hour) you could see her body language turning sour: Someone ELSE was receiving the attention. You can guess what her drama is based on what attention someone else is getting.
Anyway, on to the Freak of the Day:
I was covering a break at Returns. I watched as this guy who claims to have graduated with me walks past no less than 7 red vests to come ask me a question--a question that was ALREADY answered. And he kept talking to me.
Ugh. I was gone for 6 weeks. I haven't seen this Freak for months before that. And he chooses to make up a question and come ask me? Is it any wonder I keep saying I attract freaks?
Cry Me A River went home early--big shocker there. With it being my first day back (and the rumors that were flying were that I quit, and that I was fired) I received a rather larger amount of attention from my coworkers. As she witnessed this, in between her breaks (she was there for 3.5 hours of her 7 hour shift and she was back in the break room every hour) you could see her body language turning sour: Someone ELSE was receiving the attention. You can guess what her drama is based on what attention someone else is getting.
Anyway, on to the Freak of the Day:
I was covering a break at Returns. I watched as this guy who claims to have graduated with me walks past no less than 7 red vests to come ask me a question--a question that was ALREADY answered. And he kept talking to me.
Ugh. I was gone for 6 weeks. I haven't seen this Freak for months before that. And he chooses to make up a question and come ask me? Is it any wonder I keep saying I attract freaks?
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
It's Winter, You Dim Wit
So, Cry Me A River came back to work after having her baby (which, contrary to the numerous stories she was telling, is fine.) She's still nutty as a fruitcake, or frooty as a nutcake, whatever.
She doesn't seem to understand that she's working mid-shifts, which means she will be doing breaks. Yes, all day long, all over the front end. If there's an open register, she can be expected to cover at least one break there. It's not rocket-science.
Anyway, she doesn't bring a coat to work--even knowing that the garden center is open, and she'll be spending at least some time covering a break (or two) out there.
(as a side note: last week, she just flat out refused to cover my breaks. She didn't bother to tell anyone that she wasn't going to cover them, she just didn't. Sweet! My breaks became either non-existant or over an hour late. Yes! Fan-flipping-tastic!)
She doesn't have to cover those breaks anymore--I'm sure they haven't bothered to tell her that with or without a coat, she's going to be covering those breaks. I'll just get to go without.
Never mind that two years (or is it three?) that when I was told that the garden center wouldn't be open, and didn't bring my warm stuff, I had to go out there anyway. And I got to freeze (sans straw bale/windbreak) until they got the hut up.
Oh, yeah. It's an equal opportunity kind of place. Sure it is.
She doesn't seem to understand that she's working mid-shifts, which means she will be doing breaks. Yes, all day long, all over the front end. If there's an open register, she can be expected to cover at least one break there. It's not rocket-science.
Anyway, she doesn't bring a coat to work--even knowing that the garden center is open, and she'll be spending at least some time covering a break (or two) out there.
(as a side note: last week, she just flat out refused to cover my breaks. She didn't bother to tell anyone that she wasn't going to cover them, she just didn't. Sweet! My breaks became either non-existant or over an hour late. Yes! Fan-flipping-tastic!)
She doesn't have to cover those breaks anymore--I'm sure they haven't bothered to tell her that with or without a coat, she's going to be covering those breaks. I'll just get to go without.
Never mind that two years (or is it three?) that when I was told that the garden center wouldn't be open, and didn't bring my warm stuff, I had to go out there anyway. And I got to freeze (sans straw bale/windbreak) until they got the hut up.
Oh, yeah. It's an equal opportunity kind of place. Sure it is.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Surprise! (no, not so much)
So, little miss Cry-Me-A-River has been back to work, then off work, then back, then off, then back...and now she's off again.
She usually either calls off at least once a week AND "needs to go home early" at least once a week also. There's always an issue with her pregnancy, or her toddler daughter needing to go to the ER. I'm sorry, but if I spent this much time with a 2 year old in the ER, protective services should be called.
When all else fails, she says "I think my water broke." (She's 5 months along.) Now, I know this is harsh, but I don't think she wants to work. She did the "water broke" bit last week, and this week, she's got a black-and-blue eye. She can't work, but she can sit on a bench outside work, after dropping off her doc's paperwork, for 3 hours waiting for a ride home.
This is totally whacked.
Considering we have another girl at work who is (was? the announcement was in the paper last night) pregnant, and who is about the same age, and who doesn't call off work continually, and rarely goes home in the middle of her shift. And there's no drama.
I'm getting too old for this crap.
Along with this, one of the other newbies we've got seems to absolutely HATE me, and I don't know why. I've had a grand whopping total of 30 minutes contact with her over the past 3 months, and yesterday, when I needed to buy a bottle of water, she was slamming and banging her way through the transaction. She wasn't slamming her way through the transaction before, or after me, just mine. Weird.
She usually either calls off at least once a week AND "needs to go home early" at least once a week also. There's always an issue with her pregnancy, or her toddler daughter needing to go to the ER. I'm sorry, but if I spent this much time with a 2 year old in the ER, protective services should be called.
When all else fails, she says "I think my water broke." (She's 5 months along.) Now, I know this is harsh, but I don't think she wants to work. She did the "water broke" bit last week, and this week, she's got a black-and-blue eye. She can't work, but she can sit on a bench outside work, after dropping off her doc's paperwork, for 3 hours waiting for a ride home.
This is totally whacked.
Considering we have another girl at work who is (was? the announcement was in the paper last night) pregnant, and who is about the same age, and who doesn't call off work continually, and rarely goes home in the middle of her shift. And there's no drama.
I'm getting too old for this crap.
Along with this, one of the other newbies we've got seems to absolutely HATE me, and I don't know why. I've had a grand whopping total of 30 minutes contact with her over the past 3 months, and yesterday, when I needed to buy a bottle of water, she was slamming and banging her way through the transaction. She wasn't slamming her way through the transaction before, or after me, just mine. Weird.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Wrong?
Yes, I think I was wrong. But maybe not.
There's a woman at work--we shall call her "Cry Me A River" to protect her privacy. She's preggers. No big deal, except that she took the pregnancy test at work, on her break (Thank God it was on her break) and she makes calls like some sort of nut. (Picks up phone, dials, listens, hangs up. She does this several times in a row, then she cries.) There's always a drama.
She's also been so nice as to leave me (or hand me, on the most recent occasion) her wallet, then say, "I'll be right back." and then off to the ladies room she goes.
Okay, I get that you need to pee. I get that when you are preggers, you need to pee often, and a lot. But, what's with the wallet? I don't carry a purse, and this wallet of hers is bigger than at least two of the purses I do own (don't ask.) And why in the name of all that is sane, would anyone haul that puppy around with them throughout the store? And what makes her think that anyone (but especially ME) would want to babysit her wallet?
And then there's the picture. She has a picture of her daughter. The picture is a largish snapshot, coming in at close to 5x7, at a guess. She haul it around with her also, propping it up on the keyboard when she's actually on a register.
Now, I will not make a judgement on whether or not the child is cute (I fear for her sanity, considering what I've seen of her mother.) But if we're specifically told during orientation, and during subsequent training, and at least once a year, there's a sweep of the store during which we are required to initial an email that tells us that we are NOT to have personal "affects" of any nature at our stations, and we are not to personalize our registers with photos, decorations, notices, etc, and if, during these purges we are commanded to not post any kind of information related to our jobs ON the register, what makes her think that she can prop this pic up on her keyboard and that's kosher?
I'd also like to know how her leaving that picture at a register makes it everyone else's responsibility to keep track of it. She left it outside once, and after she came pawing through everything for upwards of 10 minutes still didn't find it--and asked if I'd seen it like it was my JOB to keep track of it for her. I politely explained the policy--we're not have it. It fits in your pocket, and basically stays there, or you don't have it. I know I pointedly told her that if she leaves it at a register, it WILL get thrown out--if the Big Wigs come in, if it gets stepped on, if it's in the way. Out it goes--in the garbage, do not pass go, do not collect $200.
Today, our Big Wig was in--with HIS Big Wigs. Yeppers. Not just the district guy, but the regional guys too. One of 'em might even have a title that sports "VP" in it. And, behold! There's the picture.
I chucked it. And I'm sure someone's gonna tell her it was me. And at some point, she'll cry over it, and management will come and tell me how horrid I am.
But correct me if I'm wrong--or tell me I'm a hard ass if you want--the Big Wig(s) find that thing where I am, and they're not gonna ask me (or anybody else) who it belongs to. They're gonna assume it's mine, and it's gonna be my ass in a sling. On top of the fact that I can't even post stuff on my garden register like "Cover the credit card machine EVERY NIGHT" (you know, stuff that I can prove saves the company money because the damn electronic signature capture machine isn't supposed to be exposed to below zero temps and water, and until I starting being all anal retentive about it, one or more of them broke down at least monthly due to being filled with water--and not just from the weather. It's a garden center, where plants are, and where plants are, wait for it, WATERED. It's not rocket science) never mind the other stuff that helps keep the inventory numbers where they should be. Has anyone noticed that since I had to take down all my little reminders, the numbers got worse? Why do you think that is? Could it possibly be that nobody listens to me, and nobody reads the communications book? Oh, yeah, it probably IS that.
But that's a different rant. I chucked her kid's pic in the bin. Is that wrong?
(And just to justify myself--my contraband cardboard and plastic improvised door for the toothpicks and saran wrap hut are okay--because they keep the frostbite away, and no one is responsible for them. I don't drag 'em around with me, and I don't expect anyone else to keep track of 'em for me.)
There's a woman at work--we shall call her "Cry Me A River" to protect her privacy. She's preggers. No big deal, except that she took the pregnancy test at work, on her break (Thank God it was on her break) and she makes calls like some sort of nut. (Picks up phone, dials, listens, hangs up. She does this several times in a row, then she cries.) There's always a drama.
She's also been so nice as to leave me (or hand me, on the most recent occasion) her wallet, then say, "I'll be right back." and then off to the ladies room she goes.
Okay, I get that you need to pee. I get that when you are preggers, you need to pee often, and a lot. But, what's with the wallet? I don't carry a purse, and this wallet of hers is bigger than at least two of the purses I do own (don't ask.) And why in the name of all that is sane, would anyone haul that puppy around with them throughout the store? And what makes her think that anyone (but especially ME) would want to babysit her wallet?
And then there's the picture. She has a picture of her daughter. The picture is a largish snapshot, coming in at close to 5x7, at a guess. She haul it around with her also, propping it up on the keyboard when she's actually on a register.
Now, I will not make a judgement on whether or not the child is cute (I fear for her sanity, considering what I've seen of her mother.) But if we're specifically told during orientation, and during subsequent training, and at least once a year, there's a sweep of the store during which we are required to initial an email that tells us that we are NOT to have personal "affects" of any nature at our stations, and we are not to personalize our registers with photos, decorations, notices, etc, and if, during these purges we are commanded to not post any kind of information related to our jobs ON the register, what makes her think that she can prop this pic up on her keyboard and that's kosher?
I'd also like to know how her leaving that picture at a register makes it everyone else's responsibility to keep track of it. She left it outside once, and after she came pawing through everything for upwards of 10 minutes still didn't find it--and asked if I'd seen it like it was my JOB to keep track of it for her. I politely explained the policy--we're not have it. It fits in your pocket, and basically stays there, or you don't have it. I know I pointedly told her that if she leaves it at a register, it WILL get thrown out--if the Big Wigs come in, if it gets stepped on, if it's in the way. Out it goes--in the garbage, do not pass go, do not collect $200.
Today, our Big Wig was in--with HIS Big Wigs. Yeppers. Not just the district guy, but the regional guys too. One of 'em might even have a title that sports "VP" in it. And, behold! There's the picture.
I chucked it. And I'm sure someone's gonna tell her it was me. And at some point, she'll cry over it, and management will come and tell me how horrid I am.
But correct me if I'm wrong--or tell me I'm a hard ass if you want--the Big Wig(s) find that thing where I am, and they're not gonna ask me (or anybody else) who it belongs to. They're gonna assume it's mine, and it's gonna be my ass in a sling. On top of the fact that I can't even post stuff on my garden register like "Cover the credit card machine EVERY NIGHT" (you know, stuff that I can prove saves the company money because the damn electronic signature capture machine isn't supposed to be exposed to below zero temps and water, and until I starting being all anal retentive about it, one or more of them broke down at least monthly due to being filled with water--and not just from the weather. It's a garden center, where plants are, and where plants are, wait for it, WATERED. It's not rocket science) never mind the other stuff that helps keep the inventory numbers where they should be. Has anyone noticed that since I had to take down all my little reminders, the numbers got worse? Why do you think that is? Could it possibly be that nobody listens to me, and nobody reads the communications book? Oh, yeah, it probably IS that.
But that's a different rant. I chucked her kid's pic in the bin. Is that wrong?
(And just to justify myself--my contraband cardboard and plastic improvised door for the toothpicks and saran wrap hut are okay--because they keep the frostbite away, and no one is responsible for them. I don't drag 'em around with me, and I don't expect anyone else to keep track of 'em for me.)
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Hypothetical Question
If you were a drama just waiting to happen, would you take a pregnancy test at work?
(Work being relative: you've been there barely 5 months, and you arrive, tear soaked and red eyed at least 50% of the time. Oh, yeah, and at least 25% of that tears-in-a-river time, you have to be lead from the floor to the break room to *collect* yourself.)
I know it's harsh of me, but to have to *collect* yourself EVERY freaking time you get to work is ridiculous. And how the tears come and go! depending on who's looking.
Oh, and, for the record, if, in between bouts of Cry-Me-A-River, you're dialing the phone, listening for upwards of 5 minutes, hanging up, then dialing again, you qualify as nuts. And do you think you're going to have a job after the police get the report of crank calls and it's your job's number that keeps coming up?
Is it any wonder I don't bother to even get to know these women?
(Work being relative: you've been there barely 5 months, and you arrive, tear soaked and red eyed at least 50% of the time. Oh, yeah, and at least 25% of that tears-in-a-river time, you have to be lead from the floor to the break room to *collect* yourself.)
I know it's harsh of me, but to have to *collect* yourself EVERY freaking time you get to work is ridiculous. And how the tears come and go! depending on who's looking.
Oh, and, for the record, if, in between bouts of Cry-Me-A-River, you're dialing the phone, listening for upwards of 5 minutes, hanging up, then dialing again, you qualify as nuts. And do you think you're going to have a job after the police get the report of crank calls and it's your job's number that keeps coming up?
Is it any wonder I don't bother to even get to know these women?
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