Tonight both my right hand and my left hand are covered in tooth marks. Several sets of them actually. They might fade overnight, or may be bruises come morning. They’ve been there since about mid-day.
Today was a living hell at work.
It started when my first customer asked for a coupon. I told him that we didn’t keep them i stores and only had them to pass out if a previous customer had left one behind. Well, that ticked him off and he snarls at me, “Well THATS a likely story!” and his wife added “You just don’t want to give us one.” And I swear I heard him call me a bitch as they walked off.
And…..those might have been the nicest people I dealt with today.
I had a series of nasty ones today.
And then I got stuck with one woman who always comes in and wants me to carry her shopping basket for her while she shops. She’s always on a small budget, always picks up too much stuff despite me giving her a running total, always asks for discounts and tax exempts, and always wants me to call her ride for her then help her into the van. Also, she smells bad. Like my sons full diapers smell bad.
Today when she came in and they said (over the headsets) that I should help her I straight out said (over the headsets) “No, No! I’m not helping her today, someone else can!”
Well, our manager started helping her, but had to leave to speak to someone else, and no one else would help her, so I had to help her anyway.
And then I got another nasty customer who wanted to return frames that she said were SUPPOSED to be 55% off when she bought them last week, but swore the receipt only said 40%. She was looking at the UPC code, that started with 400100 and saw that as 40% and I was having a hard time convincing her that it was actually 55% when she bought it, not 40% and when I finally convinced her she’s pissed off and yelling at me, “Well, that should be more CLEAR on the receipt. YOU made me waste MY time coming here today!”
Then the needy lady wanted me to call her ride again, and it woudln’t let me dial out on the phone, and the manager said he wasn’t going to come help her, and frame lady was muttering at me, and needy lady was demanding I call her ride, and my insides just broke and spilled out all over the place.
As usual, in high stress situations, I had to vomit….right then and there I had to vomit. So I call for someone to PLEASE come call her ride because I couldn’t get the phone to dial the number she was giving me, and I pretty much ran to the back.
And do you know that the single most disgusting thing in the world to have to do is to kneel over a public toilet and vomit into it.
I hadn’t eaten much though, and didn’t have enough in my tummy to purge the poision from my system, and I was going to scream. I mean really scream.
When I ‘m at home and I get that stressed/pissed I will go into my room and scream into a pillow until my throat feels raw, and even screaming into the pillow it is very, very loud and I was going to start screaming like that right in the middle of the store (or the back of the store rather) so I bit my hand to keep from screaming.
I left the restroom and went to call my husband, hoping for some kind words. His words were the same nonsense that everyone spews at me to “not let them get to me”,
That is just so much bullshit. Why should it be okay for me to have to put up with the abuse I put up with? Why should peope be able to call me a BITCH any time they want, or blame me because they are too stupid to read a receipt or to call before they make a trip out, and I’m just supposed to let it roll off my back? No, that doesn’t seem right to me.
Talking to Robert just made me want to scream all over again.
This time it didn’t pass as quickly. I spent the whole of my 15 minute break chewing on the sides of my hands, trying not to scream, trying not to go back into the shitty public restroom to dry heave.
Then I had to go back on the floor, back to work, and act like I didn’t feel like my very core is rotting away.
After my horrid day at work I got home and had an equally horrid night.
Parker is teething, and is very fussy because of it. He whined and cried all night.
BUT, whenever I tried to pick him up or take him to my room to play with him, he would just start SCREAMING at the top of his lungs.
For the second night in a row he wanted nothing at all to do with me. Which just made me hate my husband that much more because he gets to stay home and spend all day every day with our son, which is what I’ve wanted to do more than anything in the world since he was born, but no I have to make sure we keep a roof over our head and food in our bellys.
And god help me but I have to do it all over again tomorrow.
This was meant to be a cute picture of Kitty, but shows off why I never share pictures of them in their cage. Their cage, while clean, looks HORRID. Its well stained from housing no fewer than 3 and usually 4 rats at a time for years and years and years.
I’m trying to save up to buy them a new home, but every time I almost get enough dough saved up for it, I have to spend it on other stuff that we need more…like new work clothes for me when mine wear out, since I have to have a freaking uniform.
This was one of those days where I’m finding it very hard to think of even one thing to be thankful for.
1. That I have a job. Its a miserable and unforgiving job and I hate every second of it, and dream every second of being able to leave it, but at least it keeps my bills paid.