New day, and cooler temps (finally)!
I'm struggling today.
First thing I woke up to was my body deciding it wasn't going to work. My legs ached so bad, I could barely swing them over the side of the bed. My feet, forget about it. Feels like sledgehammers coming down on top of them. My back. Yeah, I'm definitely old, and it promptly announced that to me with a loud crack as I twisted my body.
Then while I'm in the shower, my phone blows up. Buckle up...
The place where I work at closes at 5:00 (17:00). Most retail places I've ever shopped at, try to kick the customers out AT CLOSING TIME, right? There's things that the employees need to do to actually close the store. Cleaning. Paperwork. Return perishable items check. Anyway, there's this couple, the last customers in the store at 5:30-something. There was apparently a problem with cashier ringing up the order. It's not truly her fault. She's new-- started last week. And barely speaks English. Not much of a problem. A fellow Supervisor assisted. This couple decides to go item by item on their receipt ensuring that everything is correct. Before I had a chance to do my job, waiting there, standing there waiting for them to approach the door, so I could verify their unit count. The other supervisor hurdles them towards me after about five minutes of their shenanigans. I check the receipt, and the count is good.
But that's not good enough. There was an issue with the chicken. We only have one Drumstick, not two! Okay, let ME go item through item, since I've worked there for six freakin' years, I know the products. I have a keen eye for detail. Sure enough, they had one Drumstick and one whole chicken leg. Okay, no problem. I'll fix it. But here's the thing, they're gonna start to be rude with me.
Y'all, Karma is indeed a B--. The Drumsticks were $26. The Whole Leg was $42.20 (these are 40-pound cases). They had to pay me $22! And they be like totally upset about it.
Anyway, because of that disaster I forgot to do part of the nightly paperwork. My bad. Oops. Today's my Saturday. I get yelled at via text message.
So from now on, I'm turning OFF my phone while I'm at home. Nobody gets to talk to me for any reason. I need my peace. I'm too old for this crap. I literally broke down crying earlier, because, despite being on a team of like six people, all the responsibility to close the Front End falls on ME. And I'm not even a Manager, only a Supervisor. Every night, I'm the one the ends up cleaning up the messes, ensuring that the store is ready for the next day. I'm tired. I'm so tempted to just quit.
But I can't because this stupid Economy that Trumpturdwaffle got us all into, we're in a freakin' Recession, and nobody's calling it out! And I know I'm too old to be employed. I'm only 50, but that's too old. Why? Because I know better than to be exploited, yet I still am. I still take it, despite knowing better.
*sigh*.
So, no, I'm not doing all that great right now. I'm going to make some English Muffins.
