So I came in a little late to work today. And out of nowhere my supervisor, someone who usually keeps his mouth shut, comes in and shows me these two lines he just drew. Because I was a little late, I now have to round down to the next quarter-hour on my timesheet, thus preventing me from getting the maximum hours of work this abbreviated week. So I had to sit there the rest of the day knowing that people around me saw I got called out by him. How fucking humiliating.
What's worst of all: He actually had the nerve to envision the end of the week, where I would turn in my timesheet and he thought we would get into an argument over what time I came in this day, and he, apparently, would say, "No you didn't!" No, I didn't? Like you're accusing me of something? Um, I don't like the tone of your voice. Asshole.
You know, I don't know why there's this huge backup just before work. Plus there was that fucking trailer in front of me that wanted to make that left. If neither of those things were there, I may -- may -- have gotten to work under this ordained threshold. But no, I guess I wasn't that lucky.
Yes, it may only be 15 minutes. But first of all, if it's only 15 minutes, why does he care? Why is he going to be a prick about this? I know for a fact that none of the other supervisors care this much about it. Also, I did the rough calculations. After taxes, this is going to cost me, oh, $3.50. Once again you may insist that it's nothing. But in this cruel world, you need to get every penny that you can. Besides, $3.50 can still get you something. Right now you can get a double cheeseburger and small fries for $2.50; you can get a small Coke for a buck, so that's dinner right there! Also, three bucks is the cost of coffee at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division). But I won't have it now, because I'm being supervised by this dick who chose to blindside me.
That really pisses me off. He pisses me off, he really does. And you know what really pisses me off about all this? This isn't a guy who ... I'll just say it, it's apparent he doesn't give a shit about this project. Last week I asked him this idle question, something about the length of the essays. He basically replied, "So what?" Huh? What do you mean, so what? Aren't you even the least bit curious? I mean, there is a kid behind each answer. You can't just dismiss them like they're crap. You kind of, you know, need to care. That struck me as very weird.
Also, as soon as the workday is over, he is out the door. We get released, I shut down my computer, I look back -- and he isn't at his desk. Poof! like he's The Flash. I was in his position once, and I sure as fuck didn't check out as soon as I could. Because I was a man of a position, of respect. And so's he. Some respect he's showing. Oh, and he dresses like shit, too. Even worse than me, and that's saying a lot.
And that is what really infuriates me about the shit this time Nazi pulled on me: A guy who has shown no regard for this job has yanked money out of my wallet from being, what, three minutes late? I'm the one that actually gives a damn about work. And this son-of-a-bitch decides he all of a sudden is going to be a stickler about what fucking second I report to work even though once the whistle blows he's Fred Flintstone sliding down the goddamn brontosaurus? Fuck you, you short-timing hypocrite!
Whatever. I'll show up to work on time, you fucker.
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