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Aug. 26th, 2010


There's a phrase I've hate.

”These days you should be glad to have a job at all.”

There are a thousand versions but the implication is the same. Any job is a good job. Cleaning up after the elephants at the zoo, washing dishes, making copies. Because they are jobs, that means they are good jobs and we should be grateful to have one.

It's a sign of the times.

It's also garbage.

Now I've never cleaned up after elephants at the zoo or washed dishes to make a living but I have made copies for a wage and I can tell you that gratitude at being employed is conditional on many things.

Tell me should I be grateful to have a job that doesn't pay my bills? Should I be grateful to have a job that turns me into a faceless object? Should I be grateful if my managers reprimand me if I am working at anything less than peak productivity? Is it a good job if I have to ask three and four times in a row for permission to go on my legally mandated rest and meal breaks?”

Ok this is starting to sound whiney. I'll try to calm down.

Working at OMax I had a mantra that would start when I got up any day I had to go to the store. “I don't want to go. I don't want to go. I don't want to go.” One I clocked in the mantra would change to, “Just quit. Just quit. Just quit.” After work it would change again to, “I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back.”

This is not a healthy state of mind.

If my job makes me feel this way then why should I be grateful to have it? Bear in mind that doesn't mean I will stop doing it. I had that mantra in my head for months before I quit OMax. I went to work every day and I did my job like a professional. I helped my customers, stocked those shelves, sorted ink and put up with such rafts of bullshit as are rarely seen. Sure I complained. But I still did my job.

So let me ask, if you think I should be grateful to have a job that makes me feel like less of a human than the self-checkout machines at the grocery store who else should feel grateful to have a job? There are people in America who have been on unemployment for two years. They are on unemployment because they were let go from good jobs though no fault of their own. These jobs paid well enough for them to feed their family, make their car and house payments and provided health benefits for them and their children.

There are people in this country who think those unemployed people aren't entitled to unemployment insurance. They think unemployed Americans aren't entitled to anything at all. They think unemployed Americans are being too picky about employment opportunities. There are plenty of jobs available. I know OMax is always looking for new associates, so is MacDonalds. They think unemployed Americans should get off unemployment and work at jobs that don't pay as much as unemployment insurance does.

Should unemployed Americans be grateful to have a job that doesn't pay the mortgage? Should they be grateful to have a job that doesn't pay the bills or let them keep their kids healthy?

Why should I be grateful to have a job where I feel like the assistant manager is watching me, waiting for me to mess up even when he isn't working that day? Why should I be grateful to have a job that makes me want to kill myself?

I've heard this line from different people and it means something different each time. When a family member tells me I should be grateful I think that maybe I would be grateful if I was still living with my parents and trying to save money to move out on my own. When my boss tells me I should be grateful I wonder how badly they want to fire me.

So yes I quit OMax and no I don't think I should have been grateful to have that job. I was grateful to have it when I didn't have any options. Now I have options and I'll let some dumb and desperate kid be grateful to have it instead.

Long Overdue


No more OMax. No more John Bond, no more Patrick Dooley and no more Clinton Speth. No more planograms, LP Edges, OMaxU or goal cards. No more Black Friday or Back to School. If my work at Versatile doesn't pan out I will find something else. If I have to clean dog kennels again I will, if I have to learn to express anal glands on dogs I will and if I have to scrub urine stains out of bathroom grout I will. I will NEVER work that job ever again.

I Hate My Job


This has become the place I complain about work. Mostly because it does not limit the length of the posts the way Facebook does. I mean what the hell? Four hundred and twenty characters? That's better than Twitter but not by a lot.

Today I had the crud. Clogged sinuses and a cough. I had to spend some of my birthday money on new shoes since my first pair of Danskos weren't "black enough." I got to work, dragged through it because I was sick. Then I did recovery on the back isles. I spent forty-five minutes straightening and putting stuff away. Mind you, it's really hard to straighten a peg that has so much stuff hung on it that it either has to hang crooked or fall off. Top stock being full doesn't help. Then Patrick comes out and walks the floor. He gets on the radio and asks how far I got. I say I did all the back isles. Then he said, "Well I don't know what they looked like before but one through five are a disaster and the rest don't look like they've been touched."

I hate that I let that kind of petty, bullshit criticism get to me. Especially when it's perfectly obvious that they only do it to keep me from feeling any sense of accomplishment.

I hate going back there. I hate that place more every time I clock in. In spite of the people who are actually nice to work with I hate that store and everything to do with it.

Most of all I hate them John Bond and Patrick Dooley. Clint acts nice but that's the benefit of being the store manager, you can play the nice guy all the time if you want to. Clint approves the schedule and all the new hires that John picks. John is just a bastard every chance he gets and Patrick is his little troll helper. They can all burn in hell.

I want to quit more each day. And every time I take a raft of shit from one of them I want to quit in a more spectacular fashion.

I hate my job.

May. 13th, 2010


I am so tired of working for OMax.


Every time I go in I think in my head, "I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back."

Apr. 15th, 2010


Perhaps this livejournal iPhone app will encourage me to update more often.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

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Feb. 15th, 2010


Don't fly Southwest Airlines.

http://silentbobspeaks.com/?p=393

If Silent Bob is too fat to fly then Southwest Airlines is too stupid to ride.

Not that I'd get past the TSA anyway.

Jan. 23rd, 2010




Just a taste of the future, courtesy of the Supreme Court.

Jan. 14th, 2010


My ASM is rapidly climbing my list of people I would like to see torn apart by the undead. He schedules me irregularly. He questions my priorities. He interrupts me when I am with customers. He ignores my inquiries over the radio. He corrects and berates me over the radio in range of custmers so both customers and co-workers can hear it.

I might not mind so much if I ever heard about him doing it to anyone else. But even the other regular employees are noticing that I get more shit from the ASM than anyone.

Today there was a customer who had bought a gift certiicate to a resturant that actually no longer had locations in Portland. He was very good natured about it, just wanted store credit if that could be done so teh SM told me to do his ink refill and ring him up for that and a couple of new ink cartridges and to just mark it down by the amount of the gift card. The customer was happy with that, the Manager was happy with that, the only one who wasn't happy was the ASM who had no idea what was going on but felt that he had the right to tell me, repeatedly and over the radio, that I was wrong and how I should have done it to be less wrong. When I tried to explain to him what was going on he either talked over me or told me I should be dedicating 100% of my attention to my customer at the register. The refill customer was perfectly happy to wait. He told me he didn't mind actually coming back tomorrow for the refill but I told him it could be done while he waited if he didn't mind waiting half an hour or so. He didn't mind and i wanted to make sure he got taken care of before I left for the day.

By the third time the ASM was berating me over the radio for making this guy wait I just gave up and ignored him. I finished ringing up my customer, finished the ink refill with a little help from Crystal and Mindy, made sure MIndy knew how to ring the poor guy up and then I said over the radio, "The confusion over the refill is taken care of, it's three o'clock, I'm going home." And I clocked out and went home before the ASM could stop me.

As I was leaving Mindy said the ASM shouldn't have been talking to me like that over the radio so everyone could hear. Lindsay agreed with her.

At one point I could feel myself starting to choke up a little. The part of me that doesn't like being ganged up on like that wanted to cry. The rest of me said no, it's not my fault he has no idea what's going on and won't listen to any kind of situation report.

So I didn't cry. Didn't even come close. Instead I'm going over to Nate and Nancy's and make a voodoo doll of my ASM. Well, more like a fetish since I don't have any of him to actually put in the voodoo doll to make it a real one.

Maybe I'll give it to him on Sunday when I work next.

Jan. 11th, 2010


I didn't get the job.

Jan. 11th, 2010


Still working for Office Max. Still making no money. Get back into the habit of doing this, Meg. People are interested. Really.

I had an interview for a temp contract with Regence Blue Cross but I'm still waiting to find out. I really want to get that job and burn the Office Max shirts. Or maybe just one of them. They have so much plastic in them that it would probably permanently stink up the whole apartment.

My managers bitched at me about my belt the other day. They pointed out that it is technically against dress code and one of them even offered to bring an extra from home for me to use. I stopped short of saying that the only way they were going to get me to wear a different belt to work was to cut it off my cold, dead body.

I feel I should stop stopping short of saying things. I do that too much. I hate getting home and thinking, "Man if I had just told him I am not his friend and don't like him and wouldn't feel bad if he got a seething case of intestinal parasites.

If you're interested in how my job is going you should download Episode 23 of Marc Maron's podcast. I need to figure out how to cut and repost a section of that on this page.

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megmca
More fun than a pair of pants full of geckos.
Last Of The Anti-Patriots

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