Job Hate

Good God Kat, Which bank was this?


Anyway, there's so much I hate 'bout my job I don't even really know where to start. I work at the Home Theater section of the local abominable hellhole. (a.k.a. BestBuy) First of all, the hours for part-timers are either ridiculously high (45 hours a week for part-fucking-time!?) or ridiculously low (4 hours a week. That's gonna translate into a nice paycheck). We have this one manager who's sole job's to just sit there and just slave drive you. He'd give you some task to do and while you're keeping yourself occupied with the task, he'd call you over and make you help customers while he'd just stand there. He also fucking isolates people all alone like some fucking 1920's-30's assembly line factory. If two people are cleaning things or restocking products and they engage into conversation together while still working he goes fucking nuts and divides them up. On and he completely gets on your ass if you're ever 2 to 3 minutes late, yet he regularly locks the store doors when you're closing and asks/makes you stay overtime to finsih up closing duties.

Another lovely issue is the fact that they've recently implemented this new bat-shit-crazy policy where you have to request days off 3 weeks in advance. Cause, we all know exactly everything we're gonna be doing practically a month from now. You need to give a 3 weeks notice for days off, and yet a 2 weeks notice for quitting. Anyone else see something wrong with this comparison?

Also, working in retail has given me a deep, new found hatered for people. They just barge in like barbarians, toss shit all over the place, and just drive you crazy by asking you for help on matters that just require simple reading. If they don't need help, then they'll just use you as something to vent on regarding their crappy product that brokedown on them even though it was a used and returned off-brand shit-box which they shouldn't have purchased in the first place.

Oh and don't even get me started on Christmas time. Multiple people at the same time would tug on your shirt pulling you into different directions and screaming on the top of their lungs at you about how they want you to get them some fucking Britney Spears remix, single CD, not to leave them and help others cause they've been waiting too long and getting that goddamn DVD player...

God I cannot wait to quit!

Jam it back in, in the dark.