Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Fuck. I swear I'm about to go into a psychotic fugue.
When I got in this morning, B informed me that she had been disqualified for the promotion because she didn't have the perfect balance of experience/education requirements. Essentially, she needed to either have a college degree or a year of supervisory experience. She refused to lie.
She also told me that he had 3 interviews scheduled for today and another on Friday. S was the first interview. Yes, S, the mean, conniving, dishonest slacker--the one who told his fellow co-workers that he'd never apply for the job because Boss would stick him with all the "shit-work". S may be fun to have around when you're bored. A great guy to have a beer with. But there's not a single reality--alternate or otherwise, wherein I could possibly work for him. The complete lack of respect would get in the way. When Boss came in, the two of them were cutting up and talking about drinking, an upcoming fantasy football draft, more parties, har har har, aren't they great buddies. I was so busy swallowing my rage I could have thrown up.
I can see the writing on the wall. I get it: all the extra tasks I've taken on, all the work and responsibility? They mean nothing. What I should have been doing was take a cigarette break 4x day, leave customers on hold until they hang up because I don't feel like helping them, and refuse to do anything I'm not explicity and repeatedly instructed to do, and flagrantly break the rules whenever it suits me. Oh, and steal from Wal mart. THEN, I should have gone drinking with Boss more often and THEN I'd have been a shoe-in.
I don't know what pisses me off more--the fact that Boss had previously told me you won't get written up for taking a bad check under $500, and yet a $200 one is why I'm disqualified from this job, or the fact that my repeated attempts to get information from him about this predicament resulted in either NO response, or lame implications that I simply shouldn't worry about it. I see no indication that he even attempted to stand up for me.
I am absolutely outraged and sick to my bones. My only comfort is that I can soon look forward to coming to work, and running a drawer and flouting the rules whenever it suits me. Fuck you all, bitches.
I was in the back room for the morning, doing collection calls, so between calls, I shot him an email asking if that writeup of mine would prevent me from being transferred to another branch. About twenty minutes later he responded with a short, "I don't know, I'll look into it." About 5 minutes after that, he came to the back and asked me what was up. I was so full of white-hot RAGE that I couldn't even look him in the eye. I just told him I was extremely frustrated, and trying to figure out what to do about it. "Is something wrong?"
Ok, is it just because he's male that this question pissed me off even more? Something wrong? Had it not occurred to him that I might have some feelings on the subject? Something WRONG? Naturally, I WANTED to tell him that he'd better hope S knows how to do the OD collection letters and the flyer design and printing and sign making and record retention, and that I will no longer be available to help everyone when they realize they don't know how to do their jobs. But I was way too upset. I have this ultra-stupid femine trigger-response to anger: tears. It's particularly bad when what I'm angry about revolves around my having a sense of being disrespected or treated with contempt--and when the tears come, it makes me even angrier at myself, and then it's even harder to stop them. And all that boo-hooing and snivelling completey undermines the message I am trying to express. In the end, my attempt to stand up for myself results in more harm than good. I did not want to end up crying at work, much less crying while attempting to demand I be treated with respect.
So I told him yes, there IS something wrong. Period. "Do you want to talk about it?" I considered it seriously, taking a couple of deep breaths to see if I could feel stable enough not to fall apart, but just thinking about it made tears well up in my eyes. So I said, "No, not right now, I'm too mad." He sheepishly backed out of the room after telling me to please make some time to speak with him in the next couple of days, either by phone or in person or whatever means I'm comfortable doing.
Now I've got to do some thinking, and a lot of nerve-settling.
When I got in this morning, B informed me that she had been disqualified for the promotion because she didn't have the perfect balance of experience/education requirements. Essentially, she needed to either have a college degree or a year of supervisory experience. She refused to lie.
She also told me that he had 3 interviews scheduled for today and another on Friday. S was the first interview. Yes, S, the mean, conniving, dishonest slacker--the one who told his fellow co-workers that he'd never apply for the job because Boss would stick him with all the "shit-work". S may be fun to have around when you're bored. A great guy to have a beer with. But there's not a single reality--alternate or otherwise, wherein I could possibly work for him. The complete lack of respect would get in the way. When Boss came in, the two of them were cutting up and talking about drinking, an upcoming fantasy football draft, more parties, har har har, aren't they great buddies. I was so busy swallowing my rage I could have thrown up.
I can see the writing on the wall. I get it: all the extra tasks I've taken on, all the work and responsibility? They mean nothing. What I should have been doing was take a cigarette break 4x day, leave customers on hold until they hang up because I don't feel like helping them, and refuse to do anything I'm not explicity and repeatedly instructed to do, and flagrantly break the rules whenever it suits me. Oh, and steal from Wal mart. THEN, I should have gone drinking with Boss more often and THEN I'd have been a shoe-in.
I don't know what pisses me off more--the fact that Boss had previously told me you won't get written up for taking a bad check under $500, and yet a $200 one is why I'm disqualified from this job, or the fact that my repeated attempts to get information from him about this predicament resulted in either NO response, or lame implications that I simply shouldn't worry about it. I see no indication that he even attempted to stand up for me.
I am absolutely outraged and sick to my bones. My only comfort is that I can soon look forward to coming to work, and running a drawer and flouting the rules whenever it suits me. Fuck you all, bitches.
I was in the back room for the morning, doing collection calls, so between calls, I shot him an email asking if that writeup of mine would prevent me from being transferred to another branch. About twenty minutes later he responded with a short, "I don't know, I'll look into it." About 5 minutes after that, he came to the back and asked me what was up. I was so full of white-hot RAGE that I couldn't even look him in the eye. I just told him I was extremely frustrated, and trying to figure out what to do about it. "Is something wrong?"
Ok, is it just because he's male that this question pissed me off even more? Something wrong? Had it not occurred to him that I might have some feelings on the subject? Something WRONG? Naturally, I WANTED to tell him that he'd better hope S knows how to do the OD collection letters and the flyer design and printing and sign making and record retention, and that I will no longer be available to help everyone when they realize they don't know how to do their jobs. But I was way too upset. I have this ultra-stupid femine trigger-response to anger: tears. It's particularly bad when what I'm angry about revolves around my having a sense of being disrespected or treated with contempt--and when the tears come, it makes me even angrier at myself, and then it's even harder to stop them. And all that boo-hooing and snivelling completey undermines the message I am trying to express. In the end, my attempt to stand up for myself results in more harm than good. I did not want to end up crying at work, much less crying while attempting to demand I be treated with respect.
So I told him yes, there IS something wrong. Period. "Do you want to talk about it?" I considered it seriously, taking a couple of deep breaths to see if I could feel stable enough not to fall apart, but just thinking about it made tears well up in my eyes. So I said, "No, not right now, I'm too mad." He sheepishly backed out of the room after telling me to please make some time to speak with him in the next couple of days, either by phone or in person or whatever means I'm comfortable doing.
Now I've got to do some thinking, and a lot of nerve-settling.
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