Good Enough…?

I wish you a Happy Saturday, my Lovelys. As for myself, I cannot say with all honesty that I am completely joyous on this day. Let me explain…

I took my test to be a Manager Slut  that sounds bad. I took my test to be a manager of Pizza Sluts on Thursday night. The man who administered it was the boss of Frenchie, and from what everyone has told me, this man is quite terrifying. Needless to say, I was slightly nervous.

If I had thought about it for even a moment, I would have realized that I had nothing to be nervous about. After all, who wouldn’t love me? I do my job, (and well, I might add) I don’t fuck around (too much) when I’m at work, and I am completely charming and wonderful (I know, that’s a little stretch.) Anyhoo, apparently this manager man agrees with me, because he seemed to be flirting with me (I think) and after I passed my test, he informed Frenchie that I “am a gem and I completely impressed him, and that Frenchie should not let my talents go to waste because I most certainly will run circles around any of the employees we currently have.” I’m not sure how he got all that from spending a half hour with me, but- I guess that’ll do.

After speaking with Frenchie a bit more, I was happy to find that he is daily amazed with my performance and my general awesomeness. He also let me know that in the future, if I wished to run my own store, that would be an option. I drove home with thoughts of a $40,000 income floating through my head. (Yes, to you it may not seem much, but it’s almost thrice what I’ve ever made.)

I got home elated that I had so impressed my managers, and let my Rockstar know what Frenchie had told me. Instead of a smile, a hug, and a “That’s great, Honey.” (or Snookums or some other term of endearment) I got, “Well, that’s totally not enough money to be worth running your own store.” Fuckin’ A.

I may have mentioned my Rockstar’s attitude in the past about my lack of funds. That has seemed to be the main problem he has with me, since I’m (not to be cocky) fabulous otherwise. So you would THINK that when I told him I had the possiblity of making as much as he does, he would no longer find any reason to poo-poo me.

What was I thinking? How dumb of me.

What is frustrating now is that everyone seems to completely love me at work, and for the last week, I have come home to almost no affection whatsoever. Is it too much to ask that my Rockstar be happy for me, or give me a hug when I get home? I think not.

I may be over-reacting here. (I wouldn’t know because I NEVER do that), but it seems to me that no matter what I do, it will never be good enough for him.

I would like to point out that I KNOW that I am good enough for ANYONE, and his making me feel otherwise is just shitty.

I am saddened to find myself in a very similiar situation to the one I was in with my ex-hubby. To quote Martina McBride- “Maybe it’s just time to walk away, if I’m trying to find a reason to stay.”

 

 

Career Choices

Well, after the whole fiasco with my Rockstar last week about the “shitty jobs” I demean myself for, I am happy to report that I now possibly have options.

While I was still contemplating kicking his butt-headed ass to the curb, (technically I would have to be the one to leave) I perused Craigslist for any jobs that looked “worthy” of his praise. I ended up applying online for several, and am happy to report that I actually heard back from a few of them. Now, I was watching the news yesterday, and there seems to be a Craigslist killer out there somewhere. They have apprehended some suspects, but my Rockstar had better hope that his judgemental attitude doesn’t get me raped and chopped up into little pieces.

Anyhoo, when I was at work this weekend, my boss Frenchie and I had a discussion. It seems that we have less than stellar cooks employed with us, and I suggested that he fire their asses and hire me as a cook. Cooking is certainly not my final goal in life (I am still trying to figure out what that final goal would be) but if it will keep Frenchie from hiring some dumb asstard who can’t learn how to decorate a pizza, so be it. We then discussed the possibility of my becoming a manager, and Frenchie stated, “This is an excellent idea. I don’t know why I never thought of it before.” I know why. Because he was busy looking at my ass. 🙂

So, I begin training to cook this week, and I shall prove how completely adept I am. Then we’ shall see what happens from there. Then, when I am making millions and living on my yacht, I can look at my Rockstar and say, “See? You just had to have a little faith in me,”

Lucky

How lucky I am that at my new job I have a Shift Manager who has kids that aren’t hers, swears like a trucker, likes the band Jackyl, and won’t take no shit. She’s like an un-Sparkley version of me! This is gonna be awesome!