Saturday, November 29

11/29/2008 I'm Ready to Cross Enemy Lines

***Warning*** Here it is.  Here is my emotional rant because I can't figure out how else to get out my pent up rage except crying and I refuse to cry over this.  Will contain profanity.

StinkyButtFace makes life at Pizza Place intolerable.  I got this stupid job because I needed the money and pizza delivery seemed like a fun(ish), fast paced, low stress, low responsibility way to make lots of money.  It is.  Except for the low stress part.  I can't help but want to slap that stupid fucking smirk off of his face every time I see him.  I want to poke one of his buggy eyes.  I want to lock him in the walk-in refrigerator and make him apologize for being a complete asshole.  I want to key his fucking $32,000 hybrid that he's always bragging, "I drove to Alaska on half a tank" or some equally ridiculous bullshit.  I want to call all of his deliveries and tell them not to tip him.  Most of all, I just want him to leave.  Work would be fun without him.  We would all get along.  I would have stayed later today like El Jefe needed me to but I couldn't because I needed to get the hell out of that place before I threw something at Stinky.  I wouldn't have forgotten to look up directions to my next delivery.  I wouldn't have had a (very brief) cry in the bathroom.  I wouldn't have gone straight to The Competition Pizza Place right after my shift to pick up an application.  I wouldn't have applied at two bookstores last week.  I need a different job.

Speaking of The Competition, it was surreal when I walked in there to get my app.  It's Saturday night, my store is brightly lit, noisy, people waiting in the lobby, at least 10 employees buzzing around.  The Competition is dark, silent, staffed with three guys two of which are on the phone but somehow being very very quiet.  There is one customer but otherwise it seems like they are very slow.  Or maybe just very understaffed because there were about a thousand stickers yet to be put on boxes.  Maybe they have a different sticker system.  Maybe not, in which case I think I can help them with the understaffed thing.

Where I burned myself:  Tip of my left thumb, trying (unsuccessfully) to catch a cheese sticks from falling.

The bright spot of my day:  Making paper-snowflakes this morning to decorate the store for Christmas.

Tonight I...
Forgot to write down my mileage because I couldn't get out of there fast enough.  If I knew how to peal out, I would have.  If I had more courage (and money) I would have stripped off my polo and hat on my way out the door, flipped them off, and yelled "Peace out."

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