Yesterday was my first day back at the 'mart in a week. An entire week off--only 2 days of which I had actually requested (well, and the days of my summer classes). And boy let me tell you, it did not begin well.
I couldn't sleep the night before. Then my dog woke me at 6 AM, vomiting. That says "Mornin' Ma!" like nothing else will. Then I had to go to the store to buy him different food, because he wouldn't eat the food he had (and hadn't for about 3 days--hence the getting sick). I got to the store, realized I had forgotten my wallet (that's what I get for bouncing between handbags). So I drove home, back to the store, and home again. Fed him, wouldn't eat it. Tried to go back to sleep, couldn't. Tried to get online to pay some bills, internet wouldn't work. And to top it off, I had to go to work.
Hubby texted me to say, 'Hope your days gets better.' Oh, right, forgot to mention that it was my 3-year wedding anniversary, and the husband is out of town. FUN.
Anyway, I snort at above-mentioned text. I'm sorry, work at KMart isn't exactly high on the things-that-make-Holly's-day-better list. In fact, it's not even on the same continent as the list. Perhaps it's not even on the same planet.
It was hot, because the powers that be at the 'mart won't replace the outdated, overworked AC. I literally stood in jewelry (practically stationery) for 45 minutes and was dripping in sweat. That is stupid. I also watched another employee bring in a doctor's note saying that she couldn't work in the conditions at the store because it was making her, quite literally, sick. It's so stupid.
I went home, ate some dinner, fed my dog (who ate! YAY!) and watched tv all night. I also got to talk to the absent husband for longer than normal, which was nice.
Update on the job: no update. They've received all my crap, so hopefully I'll hear from them soon.
Peace out, chillins.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Say a Little Prayer for You (and Me!)
Just found out about a new job opening yesterday. It sounds like a great opportunity. Full-time, benefits. It's even in my field--kind of. It's a full-time writing position with a college communication's office. I've been freelancing for them for the last couple of months, so here's hoping I've got a foot soundly planted in the door.
Fingers crossed, prayers to whatever gods you hold dear.
Fingers crossed, prayers to whatever gods you hold dear.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Pass the salt, please.
Last night, I had to close, and man, was it eventful. But aside from the crazies that are always coming in, I'm going to sound off a bit about my unsatisfied self.
Corporate just took over scheduling around, 3 or 4 weeks ago. Basically, now my manager puts my availability in the computer, along with my productivity ranking, and the computer spits out a schedule. This doesn't work for several reasons. Mostly, it understaffs the stores. Now, most of my fellow soft-liners and I have decided that corporate took over scheduling in order to cut operating costs. Less people on the clock, more money in the pocket of the 'mart. The problem, is that now, we're not getting our work done.
Last night, for example. Usually, there are at least 3, sometimes 4 people, in softlines each night, and at least 2 of them stay until 10 PM when the store closes. Last night, there were 2 of us, and Keri (name changed), the other girl working with me, was closing manager. So not only did she have to straighten ladieswear, but she also had to answer all the management calls and walk around the store to make sure everyone else was getting their shit done. I was also informed when I came in that our District Manager was coming in the next morning, which meant everything had to look damn near perfect.
Now, I'll confess something here. It didn't look anywhere near perfect. In fact, it looked like someone kinda messed with it to give it the appearance of nice, but didn't actually straighten very well. Cuz that exactly what I did. When I have to put out drops for a total of 2 hours of my 5-hour shift, that leaves me with about 2.5 to actually straighten, once you factor in having to help customers in jewelry, layaway, and the fastest break known to man. So, in that 2.5 hours (which, really, was probably less) I straightened menswear, boyswear, girlswear, infants, fashion accessories, hosiery, cosmetics, shoes, and part of swimwear. Keri didn't get finished with ladieswear.
So yeah, DM was in this morning and probably gave my boss a talkin-to for the store looking like poo, but if anyone says anything to me, I might lose my composure. I've been very good about not losing it at work, but one reprimand for not doing my job well enough, and I'll smash their damn computer and tell them to schedule some more foxtrottin' people if they want the store to look nice. 2 people to straighten over half the store in under 3 hours? I don't think so.
I would like to clarify, that I'm not upset about the store not looking nice. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. I'm not on the KMart Career Path, so I'm not looking to show that I take pride in my store. But I do take pride in performing the duties of my job well. I also take pride in not stressing out. And they're doing nothing but causing their employees, and the managers, stress, because somehow, they expect the store to continue to operate at its normal level with half the workforce on the clock.
I don't like being rushed, and I don't like leaving parts of my job unfinished. And I really don't like people who ask me one question, but expect me to understand a meaning that they didn't state.
Like this lady:
She comes up to my while I'm working, tells me that she's just changed to a new billfold [and I care WHY?] and doesn't have the receipt for a shirt [which she described in great detail--again, unimportant] she recently bought. Wanted to know if she could return it. I told her we will not accept any returns without a receipt. She responds, very condescendingly, "I know that, honey. I just don't have it on me." [You didn't tell me you didn't have ON YOU, you told me you didn't have it, period. "I don't have my receipt" to me means, "I don't have my receipt" not "I don't have my receipt on me right this millisecond"] I tell her she has 30 days from the date of purchase to return the item with receipt. She leaves.
I HATE BEING CALLED HONEY. I may look younger than you (she looked to be about her late 30's or so), but I'm not a child. And I am certainly not YOUR child. So don't fucking call me HONEY. You don't know me from Eve, you do not get to use terms of endearment on me. Also, another note, I hate this just as much when I'm at a restaurant and the waitress calls me any form of honey, dear, sweetie, anything. Unprofessional, rude, and inappropriate. If you must call me something, call me ma'am. Or simply making eye contact and saying, "And what can I get for you?" is better.
Man, I'm salty today.
Corporate just took over scheduling around, 3 or 4 weeks ago. Basically, now my manager puts my availability in the computer, along with my productivity ranking, and the computer spits out a schedule. This doesn't work for several reasons. Mostly, it understaffs the stores. Now, most of my fellow soft-liners and I have decided that corporate took over scheduling in order to cut operating costs. Less people on the clock, more money in the pocket of the 'mart. The problem, is that now, we're not getting our work done.
Last night, for example. Usually, there are at least 3, sometimes 4 people, in softlines each night, and at least 2 of them stay until 10 PM when the store closes. Last night, there were 2 of us, and Keri (name changed), the other girl working with me, was closing manager. So not only did she have to straighten ladieswear, but she also had to answer all the management calls and walk around the store to make sure everyone else was getting their shit done. I was also informed when I came in that our District Manager was coming in the next morning, which meant everything had to look damn near perfect.
Now, I'll confess something here. It didn't look anywhere near perfect. In fact, it looked like someone kinda messed with it to give it the appearance of nice, but didn't actually straighten very well. Cuz that exactly what I did. When I have to put out drops for a total of 2 hours of my 5-hour shift, that leaves me with about 2.5 to actually straighten, once you factor in having to help customers in jewelry, layaway, and the fastest break known to man. So, in that 2.5 hours (which, really, was probably less) I straightened menswear, boyswear, girlswear, infants, fashion accessories, hosiery, cosmetics, shoes, and part of swimwear. Keri didn't get finished with ladieswear.
So yeah, DM was in this morning and probably gave my boss a talkin-to for the store looking like poo, but if anyone says anything to me, I might lose my composure. I've been very good about not losing it at work, but one reprimand for not doing my job well enough, and I'll smash their damn computer and tell them to schedule some more foxtrottin' people if they want the store to look nice. 2 people to straighten over half the store in under 3 hours? I don't think so.
I would like to clarify, that I'm not upset about the store not looking nice. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. I'm not on the KMart Career Path, so I'm not looking to show that I take pride in my store. But I do take pride in performing the duties of my job well. I also take pride in not stressing out. And they're doing nothing but causing their employees, and the managers, stress, because somehow, they expect the store to continue to operate at its normal level with half the workforce on the clock.
I don't like being rushed, and I don't like leaving parts of my job unfinished. And I really don't like people who ask me one question, but expect me to understand a meaning that they didn't state.
Like this lady:
She comes up to my while I'm working, tells me that she's just changed to a new billfold [and I care WHY?] and doesn't have the receipt for a shirt [which she described in great detail--again, unimportant] she recently bought. Wanted to know if she could return it. I told her we will not accept any returns without a receipt. She responds, very condescendingly, "I know that, honey. I just don't have it on me." [You didn't tell me you didn't have ON YOU, you told me you didn't have it, period. "I don't have my receipt" to me means, "I don't have my receipt" not "I don't have my receipt on me right this millisecond"] I tell her she has 30 days from the date of purchase to return the item with receipt. She leaves.
I HATE BEING CALLED HONEY. I may look younger than you (she looked to be about her late 30's or so), but I'm not a child. And I am certainly not YOUR child. So don't fucking call me HONEY. You don't know me from Eve, you do not get to use terms of endearment on me. Also, another note, I hate this just as much when I'm at a restaurant and the waitress calls me any form of honey, dear, sweetie, anything. Unprofessional, rude, and inappropriate. If you must call me something, call me ma'am. Or simply making eye contact and saying, "And what can I get for you?" is better.
Man, I'm salty today.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Really? I mean, no, like . . . really?
Sooooo . . . this chick came to layaway yesterday. Said she wanted to pick up her layaway. I asked for her original receipt. She didn't have it. I asked for her ID, she tried to hand me her debit card.
"No, ma'am, I need to see an ID. Like a driver's license. Something with a photo, and your address or phone number."
"You're going to make me go all the way back to my car and get my ID?"
"I'm afraid so. We can't let you pick up a layaway without ID. We have to verify that you are who you say you are, and that it is your name on the layaway account."
[rolls her eyes]
"Okay, well, wait right her for me then."
[Where the hell else am I gonna go?]
While she was gone, another person came over and put something on layaway. It was easy. Then she comes back.
She hands me her license.
"I hope that's going to be okay, because it's the only thing I have."
[gives me a dirty look]
[Did she miss that part of the conversation earlier? Where I specifically asked for her license? I guess so.]
So I process her payment. She's paying with her debit card. When you swipe any card at KMart, they ask you first for your zip code. She starts to put in her PIN, but catches it.
"Oh, it wants my zip code first."
"Just push the clear button on the keypad."
"There is no clear button."
"Yes, down next to the numbers on the keypad. There's a little yellow button that says clear. Just press it."
[she does]
"Now, my zip code first?"
"Yes."
She puts in 4 digits and pushes enter. It goes back to the same screen. I look down at the machine and tell her she has to enter her ZIP CODE.
"I did."
"Okay, well, try it again."
She puts in "6343" and pushes enter.
"No, ma'am, it needs to be your 5-digit ZIP CODE."
"I am putting in my zip code!"
"No, you're only entering 4 numbers. Your zip code is 5 numbers long."
"Mine isn't."
"Yes, it is. It has to be."
"Well, mine's never been 5 digits. It's 6343."
"There has to be a 5th digit. Is it 63435? Or 63436?"
"No, it's always been just the 4 numbers."
"All zip codes are 5 digits. There is no such thing as a 4-digit postal code."
"Well, mine is."
[I notice she has her driver's license still in her hand.]
"Will you check your license please? It probably says on that."
She looks, and then goes, "Oh! Ha!" and puts in her 5-digit zip code.
She procedes through entering her PIN number without incident. Then it asks if she wants cash back. She just stood there, looking at the screen.
"It's asking if you want cash back, ma'am."
"I don't."
"Then push the 'no' button on the screen."
[she looks down at the key pad]
"It's on the screen. You just tap the button on the screen that says no."
She pushes the "other button," which then prompts her to enter the amount she wants. She starts to put in her bloody zip code again and I tell her to stop.
"You need to push cancel, or you're going to get cash back."
"I told you I didn't want cash back."
"I know, but you pushed the 'other' button to tell it that you did, and now it's asking what amount you want. Just push cancel, and we'll start the transaction over."
She pushes cancel, reslides her card. It skips the zip code since she already entered it. She puts in her PIN. Then we get back to the cash back screen.
"Now, push the 'no button on the screen."
"There isn't one."
"Not down on the keypad, on the screen showing you the prompts. There is a 'no button' on your left, at the bottom."
"There isn't one there!"
I reach over the counter and push it for her.
"Well, that wasn't there the first time."
[HUH?]
I ask her to approve the amount. Once it's all said and done, she walks away, mumbling about how much she hates those damn machines, they never do anything right, it's too confusing.
What is so hard about looking at a screen, following the directions it gives you, selecting the correct numbers/answers as they apply to you, and knowing your own mother-loving zip code?
"No, ma'am, I need to see an ID. Like a driver's license. Something with a photo, and your address or phone number."
"You're going to make me go all the way back to my car and get my ID?"
"I'm afraid so. We can't let you pick up a layaway without ID. We have to verify that you are who you say you are, and that it is your name on the layaway account."
[rolls her eyes]
"Okay, well, wait right her for me then."
[Where the hell else am I gonna go?]
While she was gone, another person came over and put something on layaway. It was easy. Then she comes back.
She hands me her license.
"I hope that's going to be okay, because it's the only thing I have."
[gives me a dirty look]
[Did she miss that part of the conversation earlier? Where I specifically asked for her license? I guess so.]
So I process her payment. She's paying with her debit card. When you swipe any card at KMart, they ask you first for your zip code. She starts to put in her PIN, but catches it.
"Oh, it wants my zip code first."
"Just push the clear button on the keypad."
"There is no clear button."
"Yes, down next to the numbers on the keypad. There's a little yellow button that says clear. Just press it."
[she does]
"Now, my zip code first?"
"Yes."
She puts in 4 digits and pushes enter. It goes back to the same screen. I look down at the machine and tell her she has to enter her ZIP CODE.
"I did."
"Okay, well, try it again."
She puts in "6343" and pushes enter.
"No, ma'am, it needs to be your 5-digit ZIP CODE."
"I am putting in my zip code!"
"No, you're only entering 4 numbers. Your zip code is 5 numbers long."
"Mine isn't."
"Yes, it is. It has to be."
"Well, mine's never been 5 digits. It's 6343."
"There has to be a 5th digit. Is it 63435? Or 63436?"
"No, it's always been just the 4 numbers."
"All zip codes are 5 digits. There is no such thing as a 4-digit postal code."
"Well, mine is."
[I notice she has her driver's license still in her hand.]
"Will you check your license please? It probably says on that."
She looks, and then goes, "Oh! Ha!" and puts in her 5-digit zip code.
She procedes through entering her PIN number without incident. Then it asks if she wants cash back. She just stood there, looking at the screen.
"It's asking if you want cash back, ma'am."
"I don't."
"Then push the 'no' button on the screen."
[she looks down at the key pad]
"It's on the screen. You just tap the button on the screen that says no."
She pushes the "other button," which then prompts her to enter the amount she wants. She starts to put in her bloody zip code again and I tell her to stop.
"You need to push cancel, or you're going to get cash back."
"I told you I didn't want cash back."
"I know, but you pushed the 'other' button to tell it that you did, and now it's asking what amount you want. Just push cancel, and we'll start the transaction over."
She pushes cancel, reslides her card. It skips the zip code since she already entered it. She puts in her PIN. Then we get back to the cash back screen.
"Now, push the 'no button on the screen."
"There isn't one."
"Not down on the keypad, on the screen showing you the prompts. There is a 'no button' on your left, at the bottom."
"There isn't one there!"
I reach over the counter and push it for her.
"Well, that wasn't there the first time."
[HUH?]
I ask her to approve the amount. Once it's all said and done, she walks away, mumbling about how much she hates those damn machines, they never do anything right, it's too confusing.
What is so hard about looking at a screen, following the directions it gives you, selecting the correct numbers/answers as they apply to you, and knowing your own mother-loving zip code?
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