My skin has taken on the red characteristic of a lobster, and accompanying the change in hue, is a delightful, scratch that, unhindered burning sensation that can be described as painful among other things.

Fuckin’ ow.

Tuesday, my dad, my nephew, and I went out all day on a deep sea fishing boat… I don’t know why I went in particular because I could think of a million more entertaining things to me than fucking fishing. I just don’t draw any entertainment from dropping a hook, baiting some dumbass fish, and then bringing it on board for a photo op. I build computers, I read, write, and draw comics, fishing doesn’t rank up there in interesting shit to me. Nevertheless, I did enjoy hanging out with Dad and Jacob.

==

Calling my boss out on some bullshit has had some adverse effects on my status at work. The inventory manager at work has this new policy on working truck nights. His policy states that if you are going to work the trucks, you need to stay until the final box is put up on the shelf, even if it means you have to stay until god knows when in the morning. If you can’t stay until then, if you have to leave early, or say at your scheduled off time, you can’t work trucks.

This policy poses a problem for a couple of guys, including myself. I have school Monday through Thursday, a couple of the other guys have full-time jobs during the weeks, which makes staying until God knows when in the morning on the Wednesday night trucks isn’t really an option. We have other things to do with the daylight hours. Best Buy is not what pays the bills for those of us who are, apparently, unable to conform to Rick’s standards.

The fucked up part is that this isn’t the only item pf concern that lists Rick in the section that labels certain people as batshit fucking loco. He’s had this inventory setup throughout the store that had, until recently when someone higher up than he is told him to change it, made the store look like fucking Wal-Mart. THe nice thing about Wal-Mart is that there’s lots of room for the giant bulk-stacks of product in the store so that you may see the eyesore, but you can easily move around it, even when it’s crowded. Not so at Best Buy. There’s hardly any room to maneuver with a shopping cat, much less pallets of new product that needs to go out on truck night. But that stock plan is over, however, and when it changed, he didn’t so much as fix all the problems, he just swapped out one problem for another, taking every single item of merchandise sold in appliances (i.e. refrigerators) out to the floor where there’s no goddamn room for them. When the plan changed to this, I called Rick out on it telling him that come Thanksgiving time, for holiday prep and Black Friday, he’s gonna fuck himself for space. And he was overwhelmed by the truth of my words… so much so that he rejected all of my time-off requests and gave me 9 hours for this upcoming week, five hours on Sunday, and another 4 on Saturday.

Here’s the part where I just dive into a little bit of venting. Anger is my forte, so here goes. I’ll start off with a stark “What the fuck?” and proceed from there.

What the fuck!? Doesn’t this seem a little juvenile to you? I know some of you who read this who know me know that sometimes I may not have a very genteel way of telling someone they’ve got shit for brains, but believe me when I say that I handled telling him how I felt about his plan with the utmost discretion and care. I don’t think Rick gave a shit. But it’s been trending this way for a while now. First Will comes in and he’s a total asshole, but at least he had the balls to be an asshole to your face and actually listened maybe 20% of the time. But Rick’s passive aggressive horseshit is getting pretty tiring. Taking me off the trucks is fine, I’m not gonna lose sleep over it, even though I know I’ll probably be back on that truck schedule within three weeks. But rejecting my time-off requests, even the ones for the cons I go to every year when time and time again I take it off without any problems.

I don’t want to quit, especially with the job environment being what it is right now. But the environment being what it is at work, quitting doesn’t seem like too bad of an idea. Rick has driven off over half of the inventory team that was in place when he came back there and has routinely given hours to his little Nazi slave who works day shifts, overpays his crackhead inventory supervisor who doesn’t really do much more than walk around the store, clapping his hands, and talks crazy all day. Meanwhile, the hard working guys, like Steve, the Inventory Senior, Chris, Mike, and some others get their asses ridden all day and not shit to show for it. I don’t think morale could get any lower in this goddamn store.

Fuck it. This story isn’t over yet. However this plays out, whether it be for good or ill… good times.

Until next time, kids.
argo. (mtc)