Second Verse, Same as the First

I know lately I've been talking about trying to get multiple jobs but I've realized I think I'm actually trying to find another, completely separate job. As in, I would like to get another job, so that I can quit my current job. I have never worked at a place that is so needy and unorganized and unappreciative of their employees. Granted, I've only had four jobs, not counting this one, but three of them were working in fast food (one of the most unappreciative services there is), and none of them were this disgustingly needy. I dread their call like I dread the student loan calls. It seems like every day they're calling me to see if I can come in for a few hours, and half the time, more like 75% of the time, they actually mean just three hours. Some days I think about going in to shop, or just browse the clearance or whatever, and then I absolutely do not because I know the minute I walk in those doors, whether I'm  alone or with someone, someone will see me and they will ask me if I want to work. And yes, I do need the money, but I do actually have things to do. I do laundry on Tuesdays and Fridays so that Jeremy's gi is always clean for karate class. We still don't have our own washer and dryer so I go to my parents house and it is kind of actually an all day thing, especially when mum is already doing laundry, or when she's left laundry overnight or whatever. Today is Friday. (You can see where this is going.) Work called me in today from 11-4. Now you're probably saying, why don't you just go after work Storm? And I'll tell you why: because I actually like spending time with my husband. I work all day tomorrow, and Sunday, and Monday, so if we don't hang out tomorrow for a few hours, I will literally only see him in passing until Tuesday. Which would make sense if I were working an 80 hour a week job or doing some overtime at the office or a traveling salesman, but none of those things are happening. My place of employment is just vindictive. And no, this will not be a sweet paycheck, like everybody keeps telling me. It's going to be a 42 hour pay. And at my wages, after taxes, that doesn't really cover all that much. I know I shouldn't be complaining about having a job where I make a very small wage but when they asked to have me full-time over a month ago I thought they meant 40 hours a week, (and not 5 hours everyday so that I never have a day off and if I do it's somehow my fault, which feels like the game plan) not 40 hours a pay.

Long story short: I hate this place, I want a new job.

Sitting in a Parking Lot

I'm creeping in the parking lot of a truck stop all hopped up on sugar-free Rockstar waiting for my parents to get in. They left their Jeep with me so I could check on the dogs while they were busy getting their redneck on at a NASCAR race in Dover. Classy.
I went over Saturday night to give the one dog her meds. It was horrifying. There was shit everywhere. Someone had diarrhea, twice, and then they seemed to trample through it and track it all over the first floor. I didn't even go upstairs to see if they had destroyed that as well. I called my mum while I was there and gave her the scene and she goes "oh that's terrible, I'm sorry Storm." I was like no no no, that reaction is not acceptable. It is terrifying over here, I think this might be a level of hell, you need to try that again.
I went home and blasted a beer then had a cup of pumpkin flavored coffee with an ice cream sandwich in it.
So that was my weekend.

Exciting Times

I painted my toes this nice bright, shiny green. And then I had this nice bright, shiny purple crackle nail polish that I was going to put on top. Well, it looked bright and shiny in the bottle. On top of the green it looks muddy and not crackled so much as I've been trapesing through a creek and didn't have time to wash my feet. So I put a gloss over it and somehow it looks awesome. It makes no sense to me.

Sunday work called me and asked me if I could stay late for my Tuesday (today) shift. Then yesterday (Monday) while I was buying groceries they called again and asked me not to come in at all. (Douches.) So I woke up this morning thinking it was Monday (it wasn't), and all day I've continued to think that, even after correcting myself. I feel like tomorrow is Tuesday (it's not) because I work early and I didn't today. My whole week is screwed up now. (Douche-y work.)

I just wanted to write a paragraph with a lot of unnecessary asides, so I complained about work. I am annoyed that I lost those hours though... on a related note.

I've been watching Phineas and Ferb on Netflix streaming. When we had cable I thought the show was hilarious and I used to DVR new episodes. Now Netflix brings me new episodes and I pay a lot less per month for that. I hope when we have kids that this show is still on the air so I can plop their chubby little baby selves in front of the TV to zone out on it for hours at a time.

Just a moment ago, I yanked my glasses off, tossed my laptop aside on the couch, and raced into the kitchen to possibly vomit in the sink. (Jeremy's in the bathroom.) I didn't, but now I'm trying to figure out why I'm nauseated but not about to puke. I hate that feeling. Like I'm going to be sick but I'm positive I won't actually spew. But I still feel like I will.

I have three new short stories making their way around in my noggin, and I feel pretty good about at least one of them being finished before my mini-vacation in October. I'll still post while I'm gone because we're going to a Renaissance Festival and what isn't fun and noteworthy about those? (That's not sarcasm either.) I'll post the story on my fiction page here. Where I haven't posted anything in like, two years. I need to clean up some of the work on there. It reads like it was written by a 16 year old, cause I was about 16 when most of the stuff was written. Don't judge too harshly.

Another Work Rant - cause I really effin' hate that place

I hate working on the weekend. I hated it even before Saturday and Sunday became the only two days that Jeremy and I could actually spend the day together. Something about it just seems off to me. I'm not saying businesses shouldn't be open on the weekend, cause I want to see a movie, or shop, or get food. I'm just saying I shouldn't work on the weekend. I should sleep in (which is really only till 8-ish, I'm an early bird), and not have to be in a rush to shower and look presentable. On both days, not just Sunday. (Sunday is Jeremy's lazy day. He has absolutely no interest in doing anything that doesn't directly involve hanging out on the couch or eating food. Most Sunday's he doesn't even shower.) But ever since my stupid job made it seem like it was my fault I wasn't getting hours I have to work weekends now. HAVE to. No joke, I was told I have to be available on Saturdays and they already have me on most Sundays. So now my days off fall in the middle of the week. Yay! I get to hang out by myself like a loser cause all my flaky friends are in school or have other flaky friends to hang out with and my husband has a real job, unlike me. Who is still working in retail. Despite my intelligence, quick learning, adaptability, people skills (when I have to have them), and blah blah blah.

The most irritating part about all of this jerking me around at work is that they say it's my fault cause I'm the system for a specific position which only has off store hours. So the computer won't schedule me past a certain time. Somehow, I'm to blame for entering myself in the position even though I don't have clearance to do that. And somehow, after being offered full-time, I wasn't changed in the system to allow for that. But it's my fault. Except my availability says that I can't work past 11 am on Sundays. So naturally I was scheduled from 2-7 tomorrow night. I feel like there's a blatant flaw in their making me seem like the idiot. So I changed my availability Thursday but it didn't take so I went in yesterday and changed it again. While in the store, before I even got to the backroom, my name was hollered across the store and I was asked by a supervisor (or something) if I was visiting or if I wanted to work. And she meant immediately. Not like in a few hours, or later that evening. She wanted me to walk into the backroom, clock in, not put on my name tag cause some dumb fuck keeps stealing it from out of my locker, and get on the floor. I have shit to do! And then when I said no she was right on my case, 'do you want to work tomorrow? please? we'd really appreciate it and I'll love you forever.'

Ya know what? When you're asking an employee to pick up a shift, don't make it sound like you're asking them to let you borrow that dress you really like for a date tonight. It is juvenile and unprofessional, you small irritating children. Also unprofessional is asking me to clock in every time I come in to shop. Especially when I'm with people, more importantly when I'm with my mother and you don't know if I've driven here separately or if now I have to ask her if she wouldn't mind coming back in four hours to pick me up cause everyone else I know has a fucking life and it doesn't revolve around their job or my job. You are needy, work. Needy, and you make me feel guilty when I can't come in, or when I just don't fucking want to because you plan poorly. Constantly. You always under schedule then you plague me with calls to come in. And when I can't make it in to pick up those four hours you suddenly have free and you knew I liked the hours (correction: I do not like the hours, I like paying bills on time, and I know that girl was a no-show cause you said so in your voicemail. That's not a courtesy, that's you trying to cover your ass.) I'm the bad guy who's bringing her poverty on herself.

I hate you. And I want to quit. But no one else seems to be interested in hiring me. I deeply regret not taking that job at Wal-Mart, and that's a sentence I never thought I would have to say. And for that I hate you more.

So naturally, I said I would work today. Cause I hate that place so frickin' much, but not quite as much as student loan people calling me half a dozen times a day. They're almost tied in my hatred honestly.

Stuff I Do

I make masks sometimes. This one I made for a Halloween costume last year. Also, this is to test out blogging from my phone using the Blogger app instead of the site (like I've legitimately done a few times).

Jones Soda is trying to tell me something

While in the midst of applying for various jobs doing god knows what I opened a bottle of Jones Soda. The cap said, "Don't be hasty, prosperity will knock at your door." Or something to that effect.

Two days ago I was drinking another Jones Soda, wondering if I should buy these boots that I've been lusting after, and this cap said, "Financial decisions will prove rewarding."

Then yesterday my brother texted me regarding a business opportunity and Jeremy and I are teetering on it. Isn't feasible right now, where would we live, he needs a new job, etc. I opened another Jones Soda and this cap says to me, "Travel and money are soon in your future."

If you're wondering, no we don't spend the ludicrous amounts of money Jones Soda expects from us often, if at all. They bought too much at work and they were going to pass the sell-by date so they've been in the fridge for the employees for free for the past week or so. I take one home everyday I work. I was originally taking good flavors for Jeremy cause I don't care that much about it, but then good flavors dwindled and died. Now it's just green apple and diet vanilla bean.

ANYWAY, I find it curious that I keep getting caps talking about prosperity and travel and my future when those are the things I'm most concerned with right now. And also that I'm getting them from the place I'm hoping to get out of.

About two weeks ago now, almost three, I was asked if they could have me full-time. I said yes. Last week I got 18 hours, which is more than twice what I normally get. This week? I have 9 hours.

Jeremy says if I'm not full-time by the end of the month just to quit, whether or not I have another job, cause he's tired of them dicking me around. (Spell check came up on 'dicking.') I don't like it much either but I don't think it's wise. He makes enough for us to struggle by for about two months but I haven't had any luck finding something else (aside from Wal-Mart) for the past two years that I've been looking. I don't think the opportunity we've waiting for is going to come knocking in the next two months.

Aside: The day I was supposed to get my job offer from Wal-Mart is the day I was offered full-time. Which is why I turned down Wal-Mart. We all make really, really stupid mistakes sometimes.

Don't interrupt me when I'm trying to ignore you.

I've reached the level of apathy in my life regarding the human race that sometimes startles me. You know the one. You're sitting out somewhere, maybe on break at work, or outside enjoying the weather, and you have a book in front of you. Or a cell phone, magazine, something that can hold your interest. And someone sits down near you, or they come outside and to where you are, for some reason. You don't say anything to them. They remain there awkwardly for a moment. You think you'll be able to enjoy your book, or text conversation, catching up on trashy celebrity gossip, etc.

And then they start talking to you.

And you don't look at them.

So they keep talking.

You can hear everything that they're saying. You are completely disinterested.

And they keep talking.

Now you're pretending you're reading but you're actually not because you're so pissed off that this person is talking to you when you are clearly not talking to them, but they keep talking anyway, and you can't join the conversation now because you've come too far, and that's even if you wanted to. Which you absolutely do not. You would much rather this annoying god-forsaken individual just shut their damn mouths because you were having a perfectly good time just sitting by yourself and doing whatever the hell you were doing before they arrived needing attention like a starved child. Really though they need a good smack in the face.

If I'm reading, do not talk to me. I can hear you perfectly fine. I am never so engrossed in something, book movie, music, piece of art, sandwich, that my brain loses the ability to utilize my other senses. I know you're fucking there, and I know you're fucking talking to me. I do not care. But what you have to say is so monumentally uninteresting that I have to resort to pretending I can't hear you.

Sometimes, I'll have my head phones in at work or on a trip. My music is never so loud that I can't hear the conversation around me. What if something important is happening? I like to be aware at all times. Sometimes, my music isn't even playing. There is literally no sound coming from head phones. But I just know someone is going to try to talk to me and maybe that conversation or person will be interesting, in which case I take out an ear phone. This is generally the best indicator that I am now ready to converse with you.

Most times, I will leave in the ear phone, and I will stare blankly out of the window, or at something that isn't the person talking to me. This is also an exceptional indication that I do not want to converse with you. Take note. Do not, instead, continue speaking to me.

It makes me want to choke you.