![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Manhappiness has begun the annual celebration of consumer-ship known as Dog Days. Four days of city wide sales advertised as the equivalent of a bargain hunter's dreams. Reality is that all the shops have put the crap that wouldn't sell - after being discounted to below cost, in most cases, so you know it's the epitome of crap -into pretty baskets on outdoor tables to trick shoppers into thinking "Look at the pretty display, that WhatsitMcBobber must be something I would like and it's ON SALE". Keep in mind that most of this junk is the exact same price on the pretty tables as it was in the bucket o'shite inside for the last six months and no one wanted it then.
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
On the plus side, I didn't have to spend the day standing outside keeping track of possible shoplifters. Most likely because of this conversation last week.
"L": "Miah and I don't work outside, just so you know." (since you've never scheduled a Dog Days staff before, you giant twit - being implied heavily)
Ass.boss: "Why not?"
"L": "Because I get heat stroke." (this time the implication was something like "Cause I said so, bitch" but "L" is less likely to cuss than I am)
Ass.boss: "And Miah's excuse?"
Me: *laughing in a self conscious manner* "I get overheated. Must be the extra insulation."
Ass.boss: "So lose weight."
Now, I'm not saying that I shouldn't lose weight, cause I should. But, first of all, it isn't going to happen in a week. And second of all ... she's got way to many problems of her own to be tossing stones at me.
That woman is seriously starting to get on my nerves. She's tactless and clueless and down right rude. And how she ever got hired for a management position, I do not know.
And it looks like my job is safe for the moment (not that I want it) because they want me to talk to the Post Office about our store becoming an "official" Postal Thingy. Which means specialized training for me. And more responsibility. Goody.
Why can't I have a rich husband (or lovers, I'd be okay with being a kept woman, really) so I don't have to put up with this? Is that really too much to ask?
And don't even get me started on the newest problems with DH's student loans and the Army. I spent my lunch hour in tears yesterday.
And people wonder why I'm so bitter.
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
On the plus side, I didn't have to spend the day standing outside keeping track of possible shoplifters. Most likely because of this conversation last week.
"L": "Miah and I don't work outside, just so you know." (since you've never scheduled a Dog Days staff before, you giant twit - being implied heavily)
Ass.boss: "Why not?"
"L": "Because I get heat stroke." (this time the implication was something like "Cause I said so, bitch" but "L" is less likely to cuss than I am)
Ass.boss: "And Miah's excuse?"
Me: *laughing in a self conscious manner* "I get overheated. Must be the extra insulation."
Ass.boss: "So lose weight."
Now, I'm not saying that I shouldn't lose weight, cause I should. But, first of all, it isn't going to happen in a week. And second of all ... she's got way to many problems of her own to be tossing stones at me.
That woman is seriously starting to get on my nerves. She's tactless and clueless and down right rude. And how she ever got hired for a management position, I do not know.
And it looks like my job is safe for the moment (not that I want it) because they want me to talk to the Post Office about our store becoming an "official" Postal Thingy. Which means specialized training for me. And more responsibility. Goody.
Why can't I have a rich husband (or lovers, I'd be okay with being a kept woman, really) so I don't have to put up with this? Is that really too much to ask?
And don't even get me started on the newest problems with DH's student loans and the Army. I spent my lunch hour in tears yesterday.
And people wonder why I'm so bitter.
Tags: