2006-10-02 @ 1:30 a.m.
To quote my favorite chick with a light purple bouffant Dame Edna “Many people ask me my secret of sweetness. Is it the way I speak or the lovely way I dress? Is it poise or personality? What elusive little facet? Let me help you put your finger on my single greatest asset: Its my niceness! I pride myself on my niceness. Its such a gift without price to be nice even when you feel blue, ‘cause I really care, and I’ve come here to share my wonderful wonderful niceness with you.”
Like Dame Edna, I’m nice too. Okay, so I went through anger management and have elaborate fantasies about grabbing 20 frosting bags and running through my store and writing “Fuck” on every conceivable surface including my boss’ face, ass, thigh, ear lobe, and shoe. See why I’m in therapy. Bad witty! This isn’t “War of the Roses”, girlfriend. You can’t act out your grandest fantasies without considering the consequences. Those are movie characters. They are meant to entertain us. Not inspire us to get fired. But I’m still nice. I just don’t like getting pushed. Incessantly. Or talked down to like I’m an idiot. Chances are I’m probably smarter than her. Like when I told my boss I had to wait for my glasses to come in and she said, rather scoffingly. “You DO know you can go to the Dollar Store and get glasses until yours come in, don’t you.” Me: “Oh realllllly? You’re kidding? You can do that?” See how nice I was being?
I decided to just leave it blank rather than to write a scathing report about how unhappy people seem in my department. One girl makes no bones about it. She’s constantly saying she hates the boss and that she’s an ass kisser. And she refuses to stay late. She’s actually the only girl I like in the department. She’s caustic and funny and has been pretty decent to me. And to just give you an idea of how things work. Last night one of the really hard working Eye-talian cake makers was feeling dizzy after a medical procedure the day before. So Nazi-Boss went over and got her a chair amazingly. I was like wow, who is that woman? Personally I would have just sent the woman to the breakroom to rest, but then I realized why the chair was brought to our department. Instead of just sitting and resting, you know, since she was sick, our boss had her continue to work sitting down. gotta workworkwork, even if you’re on the verge of passing out. The second day I worked there some girl slammed one of the really heavy freezer doors on my elbow, which preceded to blow up to about the size of a tennis ball. Any medical attention to it? Nope. I told several people about it and showed them. No response. My old company would be all over it. Incident reports. Bandages if needed. Here, maybe you should rest or if you need to go to the hospital, we can bring you over. But here? Can you at least TRY not to bleed into the cakes.
And talk about synchronisity. I was walking back from the Uber-Friendly We Love You video and some woman stopped me in the produce department and started asking me how it was to work for the store. And I once again, had to look deep into my soul, to not let her have it about how I REALLLLY felt. I am faithful to places I work, except, perhaps in my blog. Heh! So she was like, “How much money do you make?” I told her what I made, but said I didn’t know if that was the going rate. She then asked where I worked. Told her the bakery. And she goes, “Oh, I interviewed for there. I’m just waiting to hear back. I have cake decorating experience. Blah, blah, blah.”
Hmmm, so, am I meeting my replacement? How weird would that be? To run into a woman who could conceivably be my replacement because I can’t squirt ricotta cheese into canoles fast enough. And yet to myself I was going, “I’m free Mastah Bob, I’m free.” Why? Because at the previous video presentation, I had talked to the head of maintenance. My weird neighbor, Freaky Eyebrows works there and has been trying to get me a job in her department and I guess had been telling this woman about me. The woman seemed very nice. I did not bad-mouth my department. I just told her the physical labor was way too difficult for me to handle with my fibromyalgia, but that I was also physically active and that I had cleaned houses and offices before. She said she would call me Tuesday.
So I worked today. It wasn’t quite as frantic as Friday. Nazi-Monster wasn’t on my case as much because I was “Gene....Gene....the Canole Machine”. Kicked ass. Polished off a whole bag of eclairs. Scorched the skin off my hands with 130 degree water while cleaning all the equipment. And even got done early, so I frosted like 15 boxes of cupcakes with fall leaves sprinkles. Naturally Nazi-Bitch had to come over to remind me to get it done by 9 p.m. Oh really? Oh my, I’m so glad you’re here to tell me these things. I would be so lost without you Grasshopper!
And during all this, “A” waltzes by. Fortunately the Nazi was off sharpening her claws or praying at her shrine of Joan Crawford or something, so I was momentarily able to step away from my eclair assembly line and say hello. He was with his family including his adorable daughters. He asked how the job was going. I did my best Cloris Leachman via “Young Frankenstein” and leaned in and said, “Ve’ll talk Tuesday”. Didn’t want to scare his youngest daughter with a wild-eyed display of “I hate this fucking job and there’s large knives in the second drawer and I’m not afraid to use them” thingie.
I am supposed to work tomorrow, but I think I am going to call in sick. Is it legitimate? Yes, actually. I’ve been working 5 days in a row. My body is shot. My sciatic nerve is about a millionth of an inch from jumping the track. Its really hurting down in my butt and I’ve had the sciatic nerve pop before. I’ve even ended up in the hospital with it. I’m also going to try and see my case manager and see what I can do ABOUT EVERYTHING. I feel like I’m at a major crossroads. By Tuesday I have to give notice if I’m moving out of Crazy Central before winter. BUT, I have to have a job of course. AND, I’m wondering if my old company will hire me back. OR should I just try to get another job at the store. Maybe they’re not all so bad. Some people seem like they’re having fun working. I’ve seen them. AND then I have that “date” with Harold the Geek Tuesday night and I’ve never called him back. I’m so Not Into It. BUT I hate to hurt anyone’s feelings (remember Dame Edna’s advice about niceness). So I really need to get to bed and rest up for tomorrow. For someone with such a boring, lackluster life, I sure have a lot of stuff going on. I just wish a little of it was nice. Like maybe a sensual foot rub by a guy named Lars.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty