But it won't really be. My memory is short. I blame work. But not really.
So Monday... I worked. And it was deader than dead. Like so dead that I'm pretty sure sitting in a cemetery waiting for the dead to rise would have been more exciting.
Tuesday... Uhm... What did I work Tuesday? Oh yeah, I closed. My first time closing with Wheels as a shift leader and it was pretty alright. I had a crapton of late deliveries but by the time I got back from my last one he had pretty much all of my closing duties taken care of in an effort for all of us to get out of there at a reasonable time. So I had told the girls I wouldn't be home until after 12 but I was home before 1130. It was nice.
Wednesday. The first of my long days. 10:30 am to 10:30 pm (which turned out to be like 11:15 because I needed to help clean. There was no way I could leave Josh with that many dishes.
Thursday. Oh. My. God. I got up and prepared for Josh to call/text me because he was supposed to meet me at Ikea and help me bring home both of the girls' beds and help me put them together but due to a serious miscommunication issue, he never got in touch with me. But I manned up and went to Ikea on my own where I promptly had a slight breakdown. The beds the girls wanted came in multiple boxes. Three to be precise. Each one of those fuckers weighed at least 57 pounds. I couldn't get them on my rolley cart to save my life and tears very quickly got the better of me because let's face it, I'm a girl who can be really temperamental and weak sometimes. Plus, Ikea employees are harder to find than Wal-mart employees. It's like playing Where's waldo, only the Ikea version. Finally a worker came over and asked if I needed help. He actually said, "You look like you could use a little help. Which boxes do you need? We'll get them together." This earned him a watery but grateful smile. So he and I got all six boxes on the rolley cart and he left me to get the mattress on my own. THis led to another breakdown because I couldn't find the mattress I needed/wanted/ could afford and when I did, I couldn't lift it. This nice couple took pity and the man put it on my boxes for me.
So I get in line not without some damage to the displays that those idiotic Swedes have sitting RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE self serve warehouse. I mean seriously, those carts are dangerous in the best of hands and they want to put displays out when I'm in charge of driving one?? Anyway, I get in line behind a couple that's pretty much bought an entire wall of cubby spaces and she's talking about how she's going to sit on her butt and let him put it together. The couple that helped me with the mattress as well as three other people got behind me. I get to the register and... IT'S THE WRONG FUCKING MATTRESS. This one is like a hundred dollars more than the one I need. I asked her if I could just pull my cart to the side and run to get the new mattress. I figured if she could be accomodating, I could pretend to be superwoman and not cry. She said no, I had to wheel it around and take it with me because it would be in everyone's way if I left it. The nice now six people behind me assured her in very loud voices that it would not be in their way if I left it but she didn't budge. She then changed tactics to it would be put away if I left it.... for five short minutes. At which point, I am now pissed off and pissed off is not what you want to be when you are already running around Ikea with a very cracked psyche. Cue the mad as hell tears. I was comforted by the fact that three of the people behind me including the couple that helped me with the mattress the first time got out of her line and went elsewhere. I got the correct mattress and went back towards the lines. Again there was some display damage.
I get in another line and the same cashier who made me pissed off cry in the first place is waving me over saying, I can come back to her. I not so politely said no. I probably should have because this cashier look like she was about ten minutes away from the end of her day and she didn't care less what happened. BUt I got the beds to the tune of $790... (huge dip in my account) Cue slight breakdown number three or four. by now I have lost count at my cloudbursts of tears. I had to figure out how to get all this in my moms car. Hehe, I did it though. I got home and thus began getting it upstairs. I was doing pretty good until I reached Olivia's boxes. I stopped on the top step thinking tat it was anchored on a step but no... it wasn't. I watched this box, this 57 lbs box slide down the stairs and out of the door. I cried until I laughed and then I went and got the damn box.
To try and make a long as hell story shorter, It took me about five to six hours after that to put this thing together. I have the black and blue marks to show for it and Kay looks up at this bed and says, "I didn't realize it was that high." I'm 5'6 and I can walk under the bed withut ducking and there's an inch of space over my head. It's a loft bed. It was this high in the store when I walked under it. She saw it then but she had to have the bed. I very nicely told her that there was no effing way it was getting taken down and returned so she needed to get used to climbing that high and she did. By the time I returned from Walking dead night, she was tucked up in her bed fast asleep.
I have to do Olivia's bed on monday.
Friday, very little happened. I could barely move so I filled my big tub with hot water and soaked. It only marginally helped. Went to work.
Saturday night. TOnight... Hmm... You know I like to pretend that my job can't run without me. That if I left they would stop for even a moment but they won't. Just like I like to think that they all like me. I'm pretty sure that among my co-workers I am loved but every now and then we get a new person that just doesn't mesh. We just recently picked up a guy that has been a manager before and hopes to be one again. He was pretty much hired to be a GM one day.
God help the crew that has to work under this SOB. He's rude and petty. And more than a little standoffish. In the past day, I have tried joking with him, but he just looks at me like "little bug, shut up." Today he was pissed off because people weren't tipping him. Oh so sad. He refuses to answer phones and he won't even help customers if no one else can. At one point, Wheels was helpoing me make pizzas and I was busy putting toppings on. A customer came in and he just kept on wiping pans out and ignoring her. In the end Wheels had to stop hat he as doing to go help her. This afternoon, the only people with free hands were he and I. A customer walked in just as the phone was lighting up. I asked him, did he want to help the customer or did he want to answer the phone. HE looked at me with that "little bug go away." look and shrugged and said , "Whatever, I don't care."
Even the customer commented on that. He said "Wow, that's rude." If there hadn't been in any customers in the store, I might have gone off on him for that one but I couldn't. It was bad. I didn't say a word to him the rest of the night. Towards the end of his shift,. Wheels asked him if he wanted to take one more delivery and he said straight out, he had no interest in taking that delivery because if one more person stiffed him he might quit. He doubted he'd even made minimum wage tonight. HE then wiped out the pizza pans and slammed them all down on the pile. And I know he saw how they all made me jump. But he was taking his bad mood out on the pans. By them time he finished the last one I was ready to grab a pan and play pong with his head I was that on edge.
It was pretty cool after than and then I came home. Very little else to tell.
I know that no one;s job depends on whether or not I like them because in the grand scheme of things, I'm a nobody but this guy... he ... he's just... no. I can't do it. He's a sorry SOB and I honestly pity any crew that end up working under him. If some twist of fate makes him a rank over me, I will quit. He will never be my boss.
Okay bloggers, my night med and shoulder meds are kicking in and I've been spelling things all sorts of wrong on his blog. Thank God for the red squiggly line...
Night bloggers! I love you!! Stay frosty,,,,,,
