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.

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.

I Repeat: Never Try New Things

Previous post

After I failed at a full-time position a year ago, I was permitted to remain on the floor part-time. Now, I can’t even do that.

I learned recently my position was reverted to cashier entirely because I was terrible on the floor, even part-time. It’s worth mentioning I wasn’t told this until I questioned why my position was reverted back without my knowledge. While I’m more upset about being lied to for more than a year, and that they had no intention of telling me, the fact I’m incapable of nothing beyond the easiest job in retail is not helping my self-worth.

Yeah, yeah, work’s not supposed to be fun in the first place. I get that. But does it have to crush my soul too? I already I can’t do anything besides retail since retail is all I know. Now, I know I can’t do retail either. I’m going to be that person whose only work experience is decades spent as a cashier. And I know there are people who willingly do that, but I do not share the same goal.

My boss did ask if I want my position to be changed again, but warned me I won’t get as many hours (What hours?? Their payroll is in the toilet!). I declined. What’s the point of holding a position I’m considered awful in? But I’m not enthusiastic about literally being stuck in one spot for 8+ hours either. Not that I was ever in a rush to clock in, but let’s just say being contained in a small space for several hours lowers the priority.

I’m really wondering why there are even interviews for cashier positions. Yank a warm body off the street and throw them on the register. I imagine that would save every workplace ever a lot of time. The only requirements are the ability to read English and move your fingertips in whichever way you want them. Not kidding. Why the heck my boss over-exaggerates the so-called “importance” of this job is beyond me. I ought to just ask my boyfriend if I can let his niece do it. She gets excited about everything. She’ll learn in a day and no one will know the difference.

No, I’m not being sarcastic. This is very much how I feel about the “job” of a cashier. Yes, I know some people enjoy it, but I don’t, and I very much resent being “good” at it. I’m good at a job that can easily be replicated by someone a third of my age. And this job is supposed to matter in retail? I have an easier time believing there really is a tooth fairy.

If a small child has the capability to take your job, and the only reason they can’t is due to child labor laws, it’s useless. And while I’m not looking for my self-worth in a store, of all places, I can admit my job is useless within its industry. As much as I appreciate attempts not to hurt my feelings, lying (about my job performance) and over-blowing a job’s value is worse. Just tell me immediately so I can get over it.

I’m a cashier. I’m a dime a dozen. And there is nothing valuable about that, in or out of retail.

Though, Princess Luna is beautiful, even when she’s sad. Cheer up, Luna. Your job is more valuable than mine.

Eve of New Year’s Eve

Counting today, there are two more days left of 2018. Truthfully, I am glad. I hated this year and I’ve been dying for it to be over since it started. Usually, there’s something that makes me not entirely regret a bad year, but 2018 is not in that category. I can call it the second worst year of my life (first worst was 2010).

In chronological order, and from bad to worse:

  • I lost my full-time position because I couldn’t keep up with the workload. Actually, I had to step down from it to avoid being fired for incompetence. If I’d know taking a promotion meant putting your employment on the line, I never would’ve asked for it.
  • I had to delay school by two months for the very stupid reason of my birthday falling after the deadline! Seriously, what pompous a**hole thought that was a good set-up? I would’ve been done with school by now, and wouldn’t have had to struggle with the hell of juggling holiday hours and school hours.
  • Falling out with my sister. We didn’t get along to begin with, but she tried to blackmail me and attempted to start a family feud via my boyfriend. I very nearly cut our relationship completely because he went behind my back to her, but he apologized and I did find out part of it was her taking advantage of his anxiety (which does notoriously make him do stupid things).
  • The Black Friday shooting I was part of. I didn’t have the heart to return to that job, and I still haven’t set foot in that mall. I’ve thought about it, but knowing that’s an annual event at that mall is too much for me to feel good about going back. And yes, I know a shooting can happen anywhere, but when it’s so commonplace that knowing it happens every year is supposed to be comforting instead of terrifying, that’s not my idea of a safe working environment. Or shopping one, for that matter. (Interestingly, I’ve been more easily startled by loud sounds since this incident, especially crowd noise)

Not a damn good thing came out of this year, and I’d gladly burn it to the ground if I could. I don’t have hopes for 2019, especially since it’s supposed to (key word) be the year I finish trade school and go into the field I studied. Note to self: avoid anything to do with networking at all costs. I’m almost expecting it to be worse than 2018, considering certain circumstances I don’t feel like getting into.

500% done with this year!

Missing Him

At my job, two co-workers I am friends with, one of whom is a manager, recently began dating. Granted, I’m not sure how long “recently” is, but to the best of my memory, about two months or so. He had a crush on her and the day he planned to finally ask her out, she (the manager) did it first. It’s a cute story, and I genuinely hope things work well for them. At the same time, I’d be a liar if I wasn’t a little bit envious.

Not because I want to date either of them, but because I wish I had the privilege of seeing my boyfriend as often as they see each other. Make no mistake. I absolutely adore my boyfriend and have eyes for no one except him, but the thirty miles between us across our neighboring states kills me inside at times. To be blatant, every time I see a couple together, I think of him and wish we could be together at that moment. I know it could be worse. He could on the other side of the country or on the other side of the world. That we can see each other the one or two times a month we manage to is a privilege in itself. But that truly doesn’t help me miss him any less.

I know there is such a thing as too much time together. That applies to us too. We’d probably kill each other if we had to spend every waking moment together. But I’d rather have too much time together than not enough. At least, we could avoid each other for a few hours or days if we were getting aggravated and make up later.

My co-workers, when they have shifts together (this particular manager does not make the schedule), will share their lunch break with each other. When she has to be on the floor, he’ll usually work with her and they’ll talk about whatever they please as they do returns or clear the floor area. Or if she’s counting out at the register to close them down for the night and we have no customers in line, they’ll chat together as she counts and he’ll walk her to back as she carries the register drawers (policy is that two people must walk with the drawers, though of course, she doesn’t let him in the cash office). I’d give anything to have that with my boyfriend. Perhaps it’d get old after a while, but again, we could avoid each other until we felt better. Really, I’d give anything for us to live in the same town, let alone have the privilege of working together at a job.

I feel bad for being envious of them. They are my friends, after all, and friends should not be jealous. I am truly happy for them since they are both sweet and funny people, and they don’t get angry if an employee talks to the one who’s the opposite gender (we had a couple at work before where the woman harassed me because her boyfriend, who was my boss and hers, would have to speak to me or I’d have to speak to him). I feel like I sound unappreciative of my boyfriend, which is not the case at all. I’d certainly rather see him only twice a month than not have him at all. I took off Fridays so if he’s not scheduled, we’re almost guaranteed to have that one day of the week together for a few hours (though I do have to work this coming Friday, and he has to work on the next, so that won’t really go into effect for two weeks).

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Absence also makes the heart break and causes it sorrow. I want what my friends have: the privilege of being a couple who can share their job. I want the thirty miles between us to be a 30 minute walk between us. I want being apart to be an option more often than it is mandatory.

I just want him to be here.