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It was hella-windy today. Like the kind where you actually have to change how you move around so you don't get blown over. One of our buggies rolled into an adjacent yard, and since it has hardly stopped raining for the past three months, it took me a while to get it up to our lot. I'm working 31 hours this week, the week before finals. I haven't worked over 30 hours since my second or third week working there. They give me the hours I want the one time I don't want them.
My manager took about a half an hour Saturday to show me how to get the money out of the pop machines. Problem is, the cockwad had no idea when I was supposed to get off that day, and I ended up clocking out about 25 minutes late. Earlier that day, he pulled the three carryouts that were there into the parking lot, and said "Now, I'm gonna kindly fire every one of you the next time I see a buggy out in my lot." Leaving buggies in the lot is the cardinal sin of this store for carryouts, so you could imagine how pissed he was, but still managed to say that he would kindly fire us. How fucking nice.
My fuckin' nametag won't stay straight.
Ethel (the bitch) had her birthday (or bitchday) the other day. One year closer to dying for normal people, but for her just one less year to bitch and have the sun shine out her ass.
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"I'm telling you, we need to get rid of a few people or a million."
-Maddox
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