Jealousy: Co-Worker Edition

Because I already have a post titled Jealousy that’s more recent than I thought.

I’m just going to make this a confession post and admit it: the green-eyed monster is real.

Yes, I’m jealous.

I’m jealous of the manager who gets to work with her boyfriend and her best friend, train the latter, and was able to get her best friend hired for said reason (her boyfriend was already there). She gets to spend all her breaks and most of her shift with him/her/them as a result. I once did have a good friend of mine at work during 2017’s seasonal period and it was awesome! I miss her being there so much, but she moved on to a better job, so I’m not unhappy she stayed. I just miss having my friend work with me. I’d kill to be able to work with my best friend or my boyfriend, and being able to share a job with both would be an absolute miracle I’d thank fate/destiny/whatever every day for.

I’m jealous of the co-workers who get nearly a week off, and who get a weekend day off. I work every weekend, and even when my schedule was limited due to school, I never had half a week off, let alone nearly an entire week. I can’t get a weekend off unless I request it and the request is approved. I can’t remember the last time I did have a Saturday or a Sunday off, let alone both. I think I’d cut my arm off just for the privilege.

Yes, I enjoy money, but I also enjoy having my sanity intact and having time for anything else instead of having to force it because I’m dead tired. Call it “adulthood” if you want. My sanity is still slipping and I feel nothing for my job but my frustration. I do not care about customer service. I do not care about cashiering. I don’t even care about being on time (though I still am). Honestly, I just care that I get through and go home. The only reason I haven’t left is I’ve found nothing that’s worth leaving for. Any retail job would be the same, and retail is utter trash.

Stay out of retail, kids.

School’s Out!

I have already said this, but I cannot believe it.

Today, I officially finished my internship. I passed. I went back to my school to do all the necessary paperwork. With the classes, the internship, and the paperwork finished, I am officially a graduate! And now, I have student loans! Ha!

Jokes aside, I really am in disbelief I not only passed, but that I put myself through school. It certainly wasn’t cheap, and that’s not including the costs of transportation. They gave me a print-out of my account history, and according to it, the first time I gave them any money was on January 30th of 2018. It was a wild ride from there, and that was a long year! No, it did not go fast and I am glad it’s over!

The internship was fun, and I did eighteen more hours than I needed to because we stopped bothering to count! If it wasn’t an unpaid internship, I would’ve been glad to do it longer.

Despite I’m now in debt, I have no regrets. I am happy to be a graduate, and all I have to look forward to now is the ceremony in April. Woohoo!

Excited sun horse is excited.

The Misery Olympics

Warning: This post is unkind. Please skip if you dislike foul language and insults.

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No, I Don’t Care About Your Corporate Visit

Not any more than you care about my safety anyway.

One of the benefits of having a low traffic blog. I’m positive no one at work knows this blog exists, let alone reads it. Even if they do, I don’t hold a weapon to anyone’s head and force them to read it.

No, I don’t care about your corporate visit. You don’t pay me enough to care.

Your corporate sucks. When have they done anything to make life easier for the employees? Don’t answer that.

Actually, do answer that. I’ll wait.

Why is a part-time person scheduled for 30 hours to begin with? Isn’t there a reason it’s called part-time? Forgive me, but last I remember, full-time was a big dud for me. Supposedly, I was too awful to remain in that position part-time either. I can’t have been that terrible if I’m still thrown on the floor for your corporate visits.

“We need you.” No, you don’t. If one employee leaving thirty minutes early makes that much of a difference in preparation for your silly visit, you’re already doomed. When are you not in need? As much as I hate call outs, I don’t blame them one bit. I’d call out too if I didn’t need the money.

You pay me to stand behind a counter, ring people, and take money. And if my knowledge is correct, new cashiers make the same wage I do now, whereas I started out lower. I guess that’s one good thing to come out of my failed promotion. Had I never asked, my wage would’ve never gone up. How fair. I hope I don’t need to add a sarcasm tag to that.

“Look at all the people you’ve served over the years.” So, what? Anyone with a pulse and lack of mobility problems can be a cashier. Why is this called “serving”? This is not an all-important job. This is not the military. It’s supporting people’s spending habits. Nothing more.

You always need help. You never have enough. Why, I don’t know and at this point, I’m too exasperated to care about finding out.

I remember when I accepted every call-in, when I routinely gave up my plans to work extra, when I once had 43 hours in a week from being called in, when I worked every day of a week and more. And I will never do it again. Partially due to losing nearly $100 to taxes (F*** the government! And no, I’m not benefiting, considering I had to go into debt to get higher education), and partially because it took me way too long to figure that in the end, being that kind of employee means nothing. All I get in return is the loss of my sanity, time, and desire to stay alive. Working fewer hours, I still get that, so I may as well keep one of the three that I can.

“Don’t you ever want to be in a manager’s position?” So, I can stress out even more, physically age faster, and panic over corporate visits? So, I can tell employees time and again how much I have to go through and make them question why I took the job if it’s so miserable (I’ve never met a manager who seemed happy with their position). So I can assert how much more tired I am, how much more I have to deal with, how much worse my day is going? So I can lecture them on all the hell a manager deals with and how they don’t make it easier because they have their own problems?

Not even in my nightmares.

No, I don’t care about your corporate visit. You can’t justify any reason I should. I’m tired, I’m drained, and I have long run out of patience.

You’re on your own. Like me, and everyone else.