It's precision work, not only with the manual labor but with the documentation. You have to write everything down, everything, and there's a certain way you have to write down the date. And, if you do that wrong, you have to cross it out, initialize that you were the one who crossed it out (like you would when you write something wrong on a check), and then do it correctly. I think that's just too much bullshit to deal with. But ... it's a year-long commitment, and after planting $1200 to fix my car, I don't think I'm in any position to negotiate. So I figure I could do it, and if I don't like it -- or if I get hired by the scorers as early as February -- I can get out of it. That was my mindset when I told this guy no. (By the way, even though I don't know him, he seems like a good guy. Working hard to do his job, being patient with my demands, and knowing that neither of us can bullshit when it comes to working ... which was his reply when I asked him in our first phone conversation how he was doing: "Working." Good answer!)
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That position, by the way, would have started Sunday night. I forget what shift he told me it was. It may have been first shift, which is no good because I have to take my parents to the airport (they're resuming Vegas vacations now that Mother has done enough time at her new job, I guess), or it may have been third, which would have been perfect because I told my folks that I would be working overnight till the New Year, and this way I could say it's indefinite.
Nevertheless I said no, partly because hey, I have a job now. Well, I thought I did.
Seeing my supervisor supervisor sitting by herself in the break room should have a clue. The second was her saying to me, "How are you?" She has never been that civil to me before. Never.
So after saying my too-cool-for-school comment, "I be," she gets down to the nitty gritty: Our jobs don't end after next Friday, the 30th, but instead it's this Friday, the 23rd. "The money's not there," was her boilerplate fucking answer, as if I knew what the fuck that meant, which is typical because most of the shit that comes spilling out of her mouth makes little sense.
You know, I hate how she greeted me. Not only is it fake, now it's obvious that she only said that as a way of buttering me up before she brought the hammer down. Underhanded and shows what little respect she has for me. Just fucking say it in your own sweet way, dammit.
(Oh, and I love how she tried to end the conversation on a high note. We had planned on doing a Christmas potluck this Friday. It's still on, but I guess it'll double as a farewell party. And she ended our "talk" by saying, "... and this Friday will be our potluck!" and she ended that particular sentence by uptalking and with a wry smile. Oh my fucking God, does that idiot really think this potluck will totally make up for the fact that all of us have just lost a week's paycheck she and her company said we'd work for? Either she really is stupid enough to believe that we'll be all smiles when we lose our jobs this Friday, or she can't hide the fact that what she's saying is crap, and her uptalking and wry smile are just ways of painting shit gold. Whatever, bitch. Oh, and we know that you thanking us tonight was just a way of covering your fat ass. It would have been more genuine if you started with your compliments when I started this job a month ago. Too little, too late. Nothing more than transparent fakery from a self-absorbed fake.)
So now what? I'm out $300, which I need to pay for my car repairs. I have no immediate job openings in the future because I said no to the other one just the fucking day before. Hell, I wouldn't put it past that cunt if she had Human Resources call me today and say I've been fired. She caught me with both earbuds in my ears tonight, and I did work overtime last week.
Fuck my life. Oh well, onto some porn to make me happy. Porn always makes me happy.
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