Black_Bird
Not Innocent
- Joined
- Oct 26, 2001
- Posts
- 9,019
I worked today. *Shrugs* So they schedualed me to work 10 to 6 on my birthday. No big deal, actually, because that would mean I would have off in the evening. Perfect! I don't mind that at all.
Then...
Then psycho-bitch, the woman that I've been complanting about in other threads, calls in to say she'll be half an hour late. I shrug thinking this is no big deal. I keep working.
Then...
Then the closer for the evening calls; he isn't coming in. All eyes turn to me. Now, I've worked over time before, and I never have minded it before, but, but, but... BUT IT'S MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!
Okay, so I have to work with psycho-bitch. My blood is boiling and I'm just three seconds away from verbally assulting every one of her orifaces with a baseball bat. The floor manager, the same lady that helped me out when I sliced off a significant chunk of my finger, comes in and asks me if I'm sure I can do it. I tell her just how I feel, and them mentioned the irony that this all had to happen on my birthday. She sympathizes, and thanks me for working anyway, then walks away. About ten minutes later, I hear an announcement over the intercom; "Attention Customers; We'd like to wish a very special member of our Staff a Happy Birthday, John in our Service Deli! Whoo Hoo!"
It was said just like that... as the floor manager was walking up with a mini cake in hand and balloons. It may have been a small gesture, but it made me a hell of a lot happier.
I've worked 11.5 hours. I need a drink.
Then...
Then psycho-bitch, the woman that I've been complanting about in other threads, calls in to say she'll be half an hour late. I shrug thinking this is no big deal. I keep working.
Then...
Then the closer for the evening calls; he isn't coming in. All eyes turn to me. Now, I've worked over time before, and I never have minded it before, but, but, but... BUT IT'S MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!
Okay, so I have to work with psycho-bitch. My blood is boiling and I'm just three seconds away from verbally assulting every one of her orifaces with a baseball bat. The floor manager, the same lady that helped me out when I sliced off a significant chunk of my finger, comes in and asks me if I'm sure I can do it. I tell her just how I feel, and them mentioned the irony that this all had to happen on my birthday. She sympathizes, and thanks me for working anyway, then walks away. About ten minutes later, I hear an announcement over the intercom; "Attention Customers; We'd like to wish a very special member of our Staff a Happy Birthday, John in our Service Deli! Whoo Hoo!"
It was said just like that... as the floor manager was walking up with a mini cake in hand and balloons. It may have been a small gesture, but it made me a hell of a lot happier.
I've worked 11.5 hours. I need a drink.
