Bitch i swear i'll go crazy.
I fell in love. At least, i think i did.
I work with a 17 year-old boy. He's one of those rare finds. Friendly, tall and lanky. Chuck-taylors and a kings of leon anthology on his phone.
We'd flirt a lot, mostly because he's a total slut--and if someone's giving somethin' away, who am i to refuse?
So it started out as someone to look forward to working with. Then it was a crush, then a manipulation. We'd get really close, then get scared and fight and run away...
We fought really bad on sunday morning and he won't talk to me. I'm scared now we might not ever have a chance to even be friends now. First we fought attractions to each other, now i'm fighting heavy feelings. I think i love him a little.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
fucking hate bitches
i don't think I'm a negative person. negative thinking is like a clamp on my head; totally shutting off all functioning thoughts and progression. However there are people i can't freaking stand who give my soul cancer.
*names have been changed
1. Russ. Boss at work. Not really MY boss, just an assistant manager. Total fucking ASSHOLE. Came to our store from another one to replace someone on medical leave. Sexist. Hordes stock guys like they're fucking little monopoly thimbles. I have a carry-out the day before thanksgiving, and because stock is working on a pre-holiday truck, Russ has to take out a dining set by himself. This is all my fault. It's my fault that there were no other stock guys scheduled off-truck to help out with carry outs and maintenance. It's my fault the carry out is a heavy dining set. It's my fault the customer decided to pick it up in the middle of a truck. It's my fault that no one can get a pallet-jack into the holding area because obviously I am the one piling furniture where it doesn't belong for the sake of abandoning it on a pile for someone else to deal with. It's all my fault that it got that way in the first place. FUCK. YOU. RUSS.
a half hour later there's another carry out--two things from the furniture-holding area. a coworker is processing the pick up and she's paging for Russ to come back and take it out. Russ isn't answering her pages, so I call again for her. Russ calls back wanting to know exactly what it is that's coming out.
"I don't know, it's Gloria's layaway. I just paged for her because no one was answering."
"well what's coming out."
"I don't know, it's not my layaway."
"You're not answering my question, and I'm not coming back there till you tell me exactly what it is that has to come out."
Russ also tells all of "his" stock guys that they don't have to lift anything that's under 45lbs. They don't have to do anything that one of the girls shouldn't be able to do. FUCK. YOU. RUSS.
*names have been changed
1. Russ. Boss at work. Not really MY boss, just an assistant manager. Total fucking ASSHOLE. Came to our store from another one to replace someone on medical leave. Sexist. Hordes stock guys like they're fucking little monopoly thimbles. I have a carry-out the day before thanksgiving, and because stock is working on a pre-holiday truck, Russ has to take out a dining set by himself. This is all my fault. It's my fault that there were no other stock guys scheduled off-truck to help out with carry outs and maintenance. It's my fault the carry out is a heavy dining set. It's my fault the customer decided to pick it up in the middle of a truck. It's my fault that no one can get a pallet-jack into the holding area because obviously I am the one piling furniture where it doesn't belong for the sake of abandoning it on a pile for someone else to deal with. It's all my fault that it got that way in the first place. FUCK. YOU. RUSS.
a half hour later there's another carry out--two things from the furniture-holding area. a coworker is processing the pick up and she's paging for Russ to come back and take it out. Russ isn't answering her pages, so I call again for her. Russ calls back wanting to know exactly what it is that's coming out.
"I don't know, it's Gloria's layaway. I just paged for her because no one was answering."
"well what's coming out."
"I don't know, it's not my layaway."
"You're not answering my question, and I'm not coming back there till you tell me exactly what it is that has to come out."
Russ also tells all of "his" stock guys that they don't have to lift anything that's under 45lbs. They don't have to do anything that one of the girls shouldn't be able to do. FUCK. YOU. RUSS.
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