Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Ah, So.

As most of you have probably figured out, I have come to dread going in to my job. Sometimes because of the customers, but mostly because of the boss.

See, my boss is a brand new manager. He claims he ran a dry cleaning business for umpteen years and managed his people just fine, which may be true. He also may have employed only horsewhipped lick-spittle submissive puppies, because that seems to be what he wants.

Last night I walked into work to find the fourth... yes, I said fourth... instance of his addressing a putative issue in a public note for all employees to read instead of with me. Never saying anything actually about anyone, or using names, this coward avoids confrontation and (he thinks) maintains plausible deniability by fuming and bitching to other employees until he just can't take it any more, at which point he posts a snarky little note in an attempt to cow the "problem" employee into proper submissive behavior.

The first of these notes was shortly after I had posted my required time off for Farmmom's knee surgery and the subsequent follow up visits. It was something along the lines of the first time off request in a month, you get, the second if possible, and the third was a coin flip.

I promptly went to him and told him that mom had doctors appointments every time I had requested time off, and if he couldn't manage to give me those days off, I'd find other employment that actually, you know, had a heart.

He assured me that it was to "head off at the pass" everyone asking for every weekend off, etc. Nevermind that nothing of the sort had happened.

Last night it was concerning breaks. Now, looking at Colorado labor laws which have changed since the last time I looked at them, he's within his rights to limit smoke breaks to five minutes every two hours, considering the break requirement is ten minutes every four. However.

The addendum, in red ink when the rest of the note was in black, of "not a reading session" just corked me right off. Number one, he can't tell me what to do on my break. He can limit the time and frequency within law, surely. He can, legally, require me to stay on the business property during said break, unless it's a lunch break. He cannot tell me I can't read a book.

My dilemma now is whether to finish writing this official resignation letter to be forwarded to his direct boss and corporate headquarters detailing ALL of the straws that broke this particular camel's back, and slap him in the face with it, which is guaranteed to cause a scene, or simply go in, verbally give my two week's notice, citing the note posting and other reasons, in private, minimizing hullabaloo and sending my letter to corporate detailing what I feel to be his failures as a manager quietly.

Given these failures include causing my broken rib, refusing to answer my attempts to contact him after said broken rib, and taking an hour and a half to get into the store when a *customer* finally got a response out of him so that I could go to the ER, I'm not letting them lay. I've discussed that incident with his immediate boss, but corporate should know about it I think. Especially given that I didn't report the rib to workman's comp, when I could have, in an effort to be a good employee and save the company money etc.

I'm probably going to go the second route, because as much as I'd like to detail his ancestry, personal grooming habits, fondness for touching female employees in a familiar manner (not quite jumping the border into inappropriate) and complete lack of managerial skill, I do not want to be the chick that caused that scene at the stop-n-rob.

Besides, most of my night time regulars already know what's been going down. A lot of them because they asked me why I had a maniacal grin on my face last night, having made the decision to tender my resignation about five seconds after seeing that note.

Off to get dressed (for riding, because I have shit to do today before work, if he doesn't tell me not to bother coming in tonight) and go speak to the soon-to-be-former boss. Since I've been firmly controlling my urges to tell him to go piss up a rope in an effort to go along to get along because of various circumstances outside his control, he hasn't dealt with that facet of my personality yet.

This... should be interesting.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Welfare Mentality

The first ten days of the month are hell. That's when everybody gets their foodstamp money. See, Colorado came up with this idea that rather than have everybody get their money at once, they'd spread it out over the first week of the month. Whatever the last digit of your social security number is, that's the day you get your deposit. And I detest this portion of the month working where I do.

Don't get me wrong here, I'm glad there are programs out there for the people who are honestly struggling to support their families. I'm glad that the single mother who was widowed after the birth of her third child has a way to get assistance.

However. I am sick to death of seeing people come in my store and buy thirty dollars worth of junk food on food stamps. Their children are badly behaved, unkempt, and frankly they smell.

And, if you're doing your grocery shopping at a convenience store, you're doing it wrong. Sure, we carry staples like flour, sugar, bread, etc. But if you're feeding your children entirely out of a c-store, paying our prices for lunchables and junk, you are flat ass doing it wrong.

Oh, and when I see you buy thirty dollars worth of soda and candy on the gubmint card, then whip out a hundred dollar bill to buy name brand cigarettes? You automatically lose any respect I may have had for you.

Stop feeding your children junk. Stop sending your children into my store with the card. Stop abusing the system because you don't feel like paying for your own shit.

You! Yes, you, with five hundred dollars in food stamps and a brand new SUV. Get the fuck off my lawn and out of my paycheck, I'm sick of supporting your chocolate and soda habit you overweight entitlement whore.

I'm sorry, did that come across a little bitter?