Reflections on a Former Life

So the other day, I walked by the Bookstore-Formerly-Known-As-My-Place-of-Employment. I have done this on several occassions, simply because I am curious as to who they’ve deemed worthy of replacing me with. I am sad to say that they have found no one of my calibur . No, I’m not being cocky here, (he, I said cock) I am just being honest. The manager whom customers complained about to me is still employed there- even though I AND my co-fired co-worker mentioned his sexually explicits remarks to the owner. My superiorly-designed window displays no longer decorate the windows, and all the beauteous books I tried so hard to organize are complete chaos.

It happened to be sidewalk-sale weekend, and I peeked in the window to find an unknown clerk working, so I sauntered in to check things out.

The chic working seemed to not know where anything was, there was a line of customers waiting to ask questions, and I found a book on the sidewalk sale tables that we ALWAYS had priced at least $10 marked down to $2. So fuck you, my old bookstore. I bought that book and lost you $8. That’s what you get for firing me!

Anyhoo, later on, I got to thinking about my former life as a Bookstore Bitch, and there were a few things I need to say:

I miss you, my middle-aged blonde lady who read Religious Fiction Mysteries. I appreciate the fact that you would come in every Tuesday to see what shoes I was wearing, and the fact that you were kind enough to comment on the adorableness of my carefully-chosen outfits. I adore you for laying down the law to your sick husband the last week I saw you, saying to him, “I HAVE to go to the bookstore and see what Sparkle is wearing today! You have no idea how cute she is!” Thank you, too, for agreeing with me that my manager was a douche, and for refusing to buy books when he was working.

I miss you, Dino, because you always called me Sweetie, and told me what kind of bird you were painting each week. You were nice enough to hang out for a bit when my scary stalker man wouldn’t leave, and made sure to interrupt him any time he tried to make conversation until he finally left. I am sad that I can no longer keep an eye out for bird books for you, and saddened that I shall no longer get to hear stories of how your Mama-san loves sparkly jewelry from JCPenneys.

I miss you, nice mother, and your 4 beautiful daughters, who would bring in loads of perfect books every month to sell. I believe you are the intelligent equivilant of the Kardashian family, and if you were famous, you and your daughters could run the world. Especially the daughter who read all the sociology books.

I miss you, cute old man suffering from Alzheimer’s. I am sorry that I can no longer be there to talk you out of buying The Politics of James Bond for the 14th time.

To the retired woman with the amazing life- thank you for sharing stories of meeting the king of whatever African country it was you used to live in, and thank you for sharing an excessive love of books with me.

To the mass of lard on a scooter- Fuck you, lady. I know it was you who got me fired, and yes, I will most certainly glare at you in an evil manner every time I see you at Barnes and Noble, because guess what? There ain’t a goddamn thing you can do about it because I don’t work there.

I despise you, my former manager, for your holier-than thou-attitude.. You did not fool me with your “Christian” views, because I saw your true pervertedness every time we got in a book mentioning sex or nakedness. Your paging through said books is not what offended me-no. It was the fact that you made a point to tell me how sinful and evil I was because I live unmarried with my Rockstar. To you I say, Na-na-na-na boo boo. I’m having sex with my Rockstar while your wife is out having a life and NOT having sex with you. So suck on them balls.

I miss you, Money Guy, because we always had great and intelligent conversations daily. I found you to be completely fascinating, since you were  retired, yet kept bees, and baked, and counted money, and collected cars. I am sorry you’re stuck with my douche of a former manager as a Son-in-Law, because I know you can never be rid of his annoying self. Thank you also for your recipe for caramel rolls. I still cannot get them to rise.

To the $600+ worth of books I had stashed away in the back room- I am sorry the payraise we were awaiting never came. I regret to inform you that you shall not get to be a part of the Sparklebump’s Library Experience. I hope you all go to good homes where your owners will love you and take care of you properly, without dog-earing your pages.

I guess that’s all I have to say. If any of you are new to my blog, and do not understand where my angsty attitude comes from, be sure to check out my Price of Fame post. XOXO

 

 

Because Tomorrow Is Another Day…

Oops, I mean today is another day. If you want to be technical and all.

My day yesterday didn’t really start out so great.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I lost my pants.

No, I did NOT have my Rockstar around to rip them off of me, if that’s what you thought I meant.

I meant that I couldn’t find my extra pair of work pants, and my main pair was dirty. I didn’t have enough time in the morning to throw a load of laundry in before work, so as I stood there pants-less, I washed the dirty pair by hand that I dug out of the mountain of dirty clothes that has accumulated (because I’m working 11 hour days now)  and proceeded to  dry them with the hair dryer. (Very classy) Then off to work I went.

I am quite certain that my foul mood throughout the day was at least partially due to the fact that my Rockstar has been in South Dakota since Friday. I miss him, and I am becoming increasingly horny at every moment. So when I  was working as a Pizza Slut today, and it was very busy, and the cook we had is evolving from a turtle (I’m quite certain of this) and I found out I got to close with Little Miss Attitude tonight, it is quite understandable that I (to put it mildly) was ready to strap a bomb to my chest and blow the Hut to smithereens.

The very special highlight of my day was when Delightfulness came in to do her orientation, and I got to give her a hug. (Two, in fact.) Her smiling face and fierce glam-rock outfit made me happy. And then she went away. And the day returned to Hell.

Oops, Frenchy forgot to schedule another server. More money for me- or so we thought. We proceeded to (in Awesome’s words) receive the ass-pounding of our lives, complete with short-staffedness. This in itself would not have been such a disaster, (since I don’t mind a nice ass pounding every now and then) but the fact that Little Miss Attitude was “managing” meant that I got to spend the night doing everybody else’s jobs.

(Little Miss Attitude is 18, and attempting to procure her place as a shift-manager. The only reason she is still semi-managing is because I haven’t had time to do all my training yet. She spends her shifts eating Cinnamints, standing around, babbling about God-knows-what to anyone who will listen, and generally bossing people around while maintaining her laziness. When she becomes angry, or upset, her language shifts to Ebonics, and no one can understand her.)

After the harshest part of the ass-pounding, I tried my damndest to get my shit done and get the hell out of there. Sadly, people kept streaming in at various intervals; the dishes were so piled up in back I could not add one more plate to them; and the phone kept ringing.

While I was cleaning the John(s), a couple came in and stood there for several minutes. Little Miss did not acknowledge them in any way, nor did she find it necessary to come and tell me there were customers to wait on. When I came out of the loo, I apologized profusely to said customers and gave them extra superb service. Then I went in back to throw about a billion dishes in the dishawasher.

When this couple came up to pay, the two other people working did not feel like getting the register, and so yelled for me. (Because apparently I’m the only one who can help customers) The couple asked where the manager was, and commented on the fact that I seemed to be the only one actually doing work. (I’m glad someone noticed.) The woman informed me that she would be making a call to Frenchie in the tomorrow to inform him of his misfit employees. Then back to the dishes I went.

I paused for less than thirty seconds at one point, only to have Little Miss berate me and tell me to get going on my shit. Yes. I blew half a gasket. I informed her that I was working my ass off and she told me to quit my attitude. (Insert expletive here)

After I had most of my duties accomplished, Little Miss informed me (for the third time) that many boxes needed to be folded before I departed. I did quite a few, and then thought “You know what? I have to be back here in less than 11 hours. I shall do more boxes in the morning.” Little Miss went on to say that 100 more boxes needed to be folded, and I informed her of my plan to do them in the morning. She said, “I don’t care what you’re going to do in the morning; they need to be done tonight. If you don’t do them, I’m gonna write you up.” Fuckin’ write me up.

In general, I believe that when a manager tells you to do something, you should do it. In fact, I think that you should go above and beyond what is requested of you. That may be the reason I washed 200 dishes when that was not my job to do, and did my best to leave the store as clean as I would leave my house, despite having worked a 13 hour day with no break, (or meal). But I’m sorry. If I say that I will do whatever it is that is requested, (even if I plan on doing it the next day) and I get told I’m going to be written up- FUCK THAT SHIT. I left.

Tomorrow (or today) will be better. Because it couldn’t possibly be any fucking worse.

P.S. I cannot be completely disappointed in the day. I DID make $107 in tips.

P.P.S. I would like to state that this post is not a complaint. It is stating  fact. I appreciate having a job when so many others don’t.

What Would You Do If….(Pizza Slut Edition)

What would you do if:

#1 A white trash loser with a Southern accent literally shooed you away and said,”Go’on now. Get on outta here! I told ’em not to send you back here. Just get on outta here. Go’on now.” after complaing about you for absolutely no reason?

What I would do: Snort and walk away and then mope around saddened while glaring at said man occasionally until he leaves.

#2 You dumped a flaming hot pizza onto your hand and  into your apron?

What I would do: Say “Shit! Fuck! That was hot!” a little too loudly, and then look around and notice the little girl standing nearby waiting for a refill who’s ears have just been assailed by curse words.

#3 The Way You Make Me Feel came on the radio while you were saucing and cheesing?

What I would do: Sing under my breath while continuing to sauce and cheese, until the spirit of Michael Jackson possessed me and I could no longer resist the urge to screech, “HEE-HOO!” while thrusting my hips and grabbing my crotch. (I think I should have set the pepperoni down first…”

#4 You answer the phone and SMILE while issuing the standard greeting- “Thank you for calling Pizza Hut! My name is Sparklebumps, would you like to hear our specials?”- only to have the person on the line say, “No. Do you guys have any specials?” Repeatedly.

What I would do: Roll my eyes and continue to SMILE while taking their order, then when they hang up, bash the phone reciever mercilessly onto the cradle.

#5 The screechy-voiced woman you worked with deems you worthy of talking to now, and (since she only complains when she has something to say) continues to complain to you about other coworkers?

What I would do: Nod and remain mute,(hoping no reaction will make her stop talking to you) hoping her vocal chords with magically disintigrate so as to rid yours and others ears of the horror that is her voice.

#6 Your managar Awesome’s hubby comes in and she says to him, “Show Sparklebumps your tattoes!” which he obliges by pulling up his shirt after having just met you?

What I would do: Think, “Wah! He’s flashing me!” and then shrug and check out his fun tattoes.

#7 Your manager Frenchie gets on his knees in front of everyone and begs for forgiveness after you have jokingly berated him for flirting with coworkers other than yourself?

What I would do: Narrow my eyes at him as if I’m thinking about it, and then NOT forgive him. He needs to think about what he’s done for a bit longer.

#8 There was a puddle of piss in front of the urinal EVERY night when you are mopping up?

What I would do: Drop my mop right then and stalk back to the kitchen, demanding to know which coworker remaining does not know how to aim his urine stream properly.

Who wouldn’t want to be a Pizza Slut?

 

Like Ability

So I got to work yesterday and Frenchie had some surprising news for me. (No, he is not willing to give me a million dollars if I flash my boobies at him.)

“Day Lady REALLY likes you. This is the third time this week that she’s mentioned it. She also can’t understand why Scary Driver Woman hates you.”

I will explain.

Firstly, of course Day Lady and Scary Driver Woman are not their actual names; however, I haved learned from past experience that using actual names will come back to bite me in the ass.

So. Day Lady is a co-worker that I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting in the past week. She’s been employed at my place of business for 25 years, the end result being that she is understandably bitter. Before making her aquaintance, I was warned by nearly every other employee of this woman’s…. less-than-friendly demeanor. As it turns out, she just expects people to do their jobs. I am assuming that she likes me because I do mine in a satisfactory manner.

Now, Scary Driver Lady is another matter.

I was also forewarned about her, and luckily. A few people mentioned her irritating voice. What they failed to mention is how closely it resembles the squeals of a live swine being pushed through a running meat grinder ass-first. The ear-piercing shrieks this woman emits most certainly cause all the dogs in the closest 7 counties to howl uncontrollably. I have been lucky enough that the temporary deafness her voice causes in humans has kept me from hearing said hounds. The shrillness of her voice is only made worse by the constant bitching that she does- pointing out how superior HER work habits are. At all costs, I try to refrain from coming in direct contact with her. There was unfortuneately one incident where she sought me out to inform me that I was neglecting to do part of my duties. Only later did my other fellow employees let me know that she was bull-shitting me, and the duties she had mentioned were, in fact, her job.

These two women, while together, engage in bitch sessions, going back and forth about the utter stupidity of the rest of the employees. However, Day Lady has found me quite likeable, for some reason. Frenchie, my other manager Awesome (so named because she can single-handedly put together pizzas for the entire town of St Cloud on a Friday night) and I have been trying to figure out the reasoning Scary Driver Lady has for disliking moi. Awesome is convinced it’s a jealousy thing, (since I am so amazingly beautiful, you know) and Frenchie thinks it’s because I refuse to do her job for her. Since from what I can tell, she dislikes EVERYBODY, I just think she lacks the Like Ability.

P.S. As I pointed out to Frenchie, there is really no reason for anybody not to like me.

Hilarious Anger

So apparently I’m VERY funny when I’m angry.

This became apparent the other night while I was at work. All I have to say is, I’m so happy that my irritation is entertainment for my co-worker(s).

As you all know, I  now get to make my living working as a Pizza Slut. While I am almost the newest employee, there are several others that work at my place of employment that were hired just days or weeks before I was. Though serving is perhaps not as difficult as some of the other jobs, I would say that I am slightly ahead of some of my fellow newer employees in the area of executing what needs to be done without creating a clusterfuck.

The other night, it was exceptionally busy, as one would expect a pizza joint to be on a Friday night. Since the cooks that were working are both in the process of being trained in as shift managers, (and still learning how to cook without creating many delicious mistakes that we benefit from) things were not going quite as smoothly as everyone would hope. During the chaos, I realized that one of my tables had not yet received their yum-yum chessy breadsticks. When I asked the trainee manager about them, her flustered self stated, “Well, they’ve been done for 20 minutes and you never said anything about them.”

A little pizza kitchen info: there is a little computer screen conveniently placed directly at the finishing end of the pizza oven. Said screen is a beneficial tool that lists (in order) what goes out and where it goes, etc. While this screen is a bit confusing at first, there is really no reason why anyone who has passed 4th grade reading cannot comprehend what is posted on this lovely computer.

That being said, it is the responsiblity of the person cutting and sending out the pizzas to let the servers know when something is up. As I had not received any notice that my cheesy breadsticks were up, I did not find myself at fault that they had not been sent out- especially since they were still sitting in the pan they had been cooked in, and NOT put in a basket appropriate for customers. So when my little 18-yr-old trainee manager snottily mentioned my breadsticks, I simply said, “Well, it doesn’t really make any sense to bitch about it now. I couldn’t exactly dish them up when you were standing in my way, could I? Just give me my damn breadsticks.”

I admit, this is probably not the correct response to give someone who will one day be in charge of me, but I take offense when someone bitches at me when she can’t do her job. Anyhoo, my boss Frenchy was standing there and witnessed the entire exchange, to which he responded later with, “Wow, I’ve never seen that side of you before! That was, wow.”

Here is a little fact that you may not know- I am truly one of the nicest people you will ever meet, and I come complete with smiles which I dish out at an alarmingly accelerated rate. However, I can turn psycho bitch in under 3 seconds when I am hassled unnecessarily. And just to point out, I was just stating a fact.

When I pointed this out to Frenchy, he said, “Yes, well she needed to be put in her place, and you did that. It was just funny.”

In fact, my ire was so amusing, the episode was mentioned by Frenchy to the next shift manager who came in, who replied, “Good for her. I woulda fuckin’ blew a gasket.” I love the people I work with.

P.S. Little 18-yr-old got a talking to about her attitude.