There is a line of people, four people, let’s say. “Call for backup if there are three people waiting in line” Neighbor’s words rang in my head. “Cashier” I yelled (I actually yelled her name, though). The line grew to six. “Cashier” I called again. The customer holding up the line wanted her receipt that my computer so rudely did not print out. The line, oh, the line. “Manager” I called. “Don’t let the register out of your sight.” More words from Neighbor.
I was tired. I worked a double on Monday, from ten to ten. Tuesday I had to work an hour over because I was doing a planogram (changing the product on the shelves. If you’ve never done one or even seen one being done…you just don’t understand). Today, Wednesday, I was doing another planogram. This time, Cashier was in the back the whole day, and I was piling up the product into the aisle because it had nowhere to go. By twelve o’clock, not one of the four sections was done. I was manning the front by myself. And Manager? They have other things to do, I don’t bother them.
I was hungry. All I had was a half of a cup of coffee. I could have eaten the pizza I brought. “Oahdhf ahdfh ahd htodfh?” I would say to the customer with a mouth full of food. No, Neighbor would never approve. He trained me to not do that. By twelve o’clock, I was starving, and I had an attitude.
I was hot. First of all, it was hot anyway. Second, moving all of the product and going up and down on the step stool and running to the register and being stuck in the small aisle, it was a lot of work.
“Don’t let the register out of your sight” rang in my head again as my attitude rose and I headed for the back room. On any other day, I would have never dreamed of doing such a thing. But today, I had had it. The thought of all of those people standing in line. Are they walking out of the store with anything? Are they putting it back and leaving? Or are they waiting? What am I doing? Call again for them, don’t leave the register.
I swung open the stock room door, the farthest room in the back. I was stunned. I was appalled. Cashier was… sitting. “Don’t sit down, keep moving, go do something,” more words from Neighbor. I look over to see Manager… on the phone. On the phone? I can’t really say anything, they are the manager. But, Cashier?
I looked them straight in the eye and pointed to the front of the store. “There is a line,” I said in a stern, angry, low voice, “and my computer is messed up.” “Oh, really?” they said, and got up and walked away. “Oh, uh, let me call you right back” I heard Manager say.
When I got up the front, the line was shorter. I don’t know what happened to the other customers, and quite frankly, I don’t care. Cashier rang a couple of the customers, and, you guessed it, walked away. To the back? Yep.
I may have over-reacted. Maybe. But with the way Cashier had been treating me lately, I didn’t really care. “Manager told me they wanted me to do something, and I was just waiting for them to get off the phone and tell me what to do” Cashier later told me.
…W-T-F? I would totally swear if I didn’t have morals. Really?
I later apologized for the way I reacted. I’m sure I over-reacted, but no one wanted to hear how I felt. When Neighbor walked in, and I explained little of what had happened, the part that he wanted to hear, he said, “Calm down, it’s no big deal.” Like how I felt was ‘no big deal.’ He didn’t want to hear what I had to say. No one wanted to listen to me. No one.
I finally, finally stand up for myself, and I get, “It’s no big deal?” I get the feeling that my feelings don’t matter? “I know how you feel,” Cashier said. “When I’m stocking shelves, and there’s no one around, it’s frustrating.” If your job doesn’t get done, you can just roll the boxes to the back, and leave. If my job isn’t done, I have to stay until it’s done. Don’t you even…!
Yesterday, Tuesday, I had to stay over an hour because the same thing happened. I was alone at the front. Today, Wednesday, I had to stay over two hours. And Manager doesn’t want me going over 40 hours…
I work ten days in a row…heck, more than that if someone calls me in, if someone calls out, if someone calls me to work for them.
I work too hard for too little. I make, supposedly, $7.25 (or something like that), and I put up with this stuff? I got this job, this part-time job, to have something to do while focusing on my dream. Now, what is my dream? It’s hidden behind ten, fifteen days of working with this kind of stuff happening.
And be quiet with your, “Some people work more than you do for less than you make” comments. I KNOW! But this is my blog, and I’m going to be selfish, if only for one minute. Don’t you dare tell me that my feelings don’t matter.
Screw life! Screw life and everything in it! Can I just go away? Can’t I just relax? Can’t I just not have people treat me like crap and walk all over me? Can’t someone just make me feel like it’s ok to feel? To be mad? To be hurt? To want better?
Maybe I over-reacted. But I was tired, I was hungry, I couldn’t even go to the bathroom because no one was there to help me.
No one is ever around to help me. Ever.
I really am all alone…