Arts & Crafts

February 5, 2004

I didn’t do shit at work today.

Technically, it was my half day because i’m working this weekend. You know what half days mean to me? Don’t need to start working. By the time you get started, it’s time to bounce. Thus, I never intended to start working today.

We hold a quick branch meeting this morning, and my manager tells us that we have a group assignment (which already sounds gay). We’re supposed to create an original display which advertises some of the products in the bank.  Each person in the bank has to contribute something to the project.

Fucking gay.

After our little “huddle”, I pull my manager to the side and tell him that i’m not really feeling like that’s the move for me. I’m not really feeling the Arts & Crafts vibe gion down. Especially if i’m expected to deal with dumb ass customers and the phone that rings incessantly.

He tells me that since i’m leaving early, I can just work on it in the back office and not have to deal with the public at all.

Not fucking gay.

So you know me – I take the stack of construction paper and markers to the back and jump on the damn ‘net. Manager comes in a while later like, “That’s as far as you’ve gotten?” I’m like “Pssssht… I told you I wasn’t good at this stuff; I did the best I could.”

By this time, it was time for me to go…

I didn’t do shit today.

I still hate my fucking job.

Posted in Classic JQW

Name Tags

February 4, 2004

You’ve got to be kidding…

My manager tells us today that we need to start wearing our name tags while the branch is open. What?!?!?!? It seems that customers have been “complaining” that they don’t know who all of the new people (me) are, and they can’t tell who works there. I can only assume that seeing somebody sitting behind a desk with a tie on saying “Can I help you?” is not a big enough clue. I told him that I couldn’t do it. This ain’t Jack In The Box. If people don’t know who I am after I introduce myself and hand them a business card, then they’re as stupid as I presume all customers to be.

You should see these name tags. Big ugly ass, gold colored tags. They basically scream “I’m grossly underpaid for what I do!” Like I said, I refused to wear it.I don’t want people that i’ve never spoken to walking up to me and saying “Hey… umm… Damon? Daniel? Damien?… blahblahblah” as they struggle to read the name on my blinding ass name tag. Everybody put theirs on, though – except for the manager.

Name tags have always been a pet peeve of mine. Why shouldn’t we be allowed to shield our identities, thereby reducing our accountability for our (and especially someone else’s) fuck ups? I wanna be able to give someone blatantly false information and not have it come back to me. Mind you, in my quest to get fired from this job, I could care less, and frequently offer blatantly erroneous information on a consistent basis. I want my anonymity,damnit!!!!

Posted in Classic JQW

You Ever Had To Take A Shit At Work?

January 29, 2004

I have to take one right now. I don’t know what was in the Luby’s meal that I had for lunch, but that shit (no pun intended) is coming back on me. I got all kinds of bubbles and shit up in my chest. I know the folks around me can hear my business…

I have this thing about shitting in public places. See, i’m used to working in big office buildings and finding that one bathroom on that one floor that NOBODY goes into. That’s the only way I can get around it. My current job only has one bathroom for general use. Even though it’s brand new, i’m skeptical about putting my ass on it.

Also, the bathroom  is in the break room; furthermore, the bathroom door is right by the break table. It’s kinda weird to hear gastral sounds while you’re eating.

_____________________________________________________________

Well, I gave in. I had to drop some pounds because my back started hurting. I had to dispatch a couple of silent assassins to complete the mission. I hope that I wasn’t trailing when I got out of the stall.

I hate this fucking place. I wanna shit in the lobby when I quit…

Posted in Classic JQW

I Called In Yesterday

January 28, 2004

Everything started off okay – I got up on time, checked my emails, made a lil’ breakfast, ironed my clothes, yelled at the dogs, got fully dressed, and decided that it just wasn’t my day to go to work. I suddenly came down with a stomach virus or something…. My manager didn’t seem too convinced.

Yesterday was too beautiful of a day to work, plus I had a lot of nagging chores that I had to wrap up. Funny thing is, I called Mic (who’s the MASTER of calling in) and it turns out that HE called in as well.. after already having a day off! I swear, he’s a bad influence on me. He starts coaching me on how I could set it up to leave early when I get back to work. I decide to try it…

When I get back to work today,  run through the routine in my head a few times: run to the bathroom; stay in there for about 20 minutes; give an occasional gagging, heaving cough, come out with eyes watering.  I’ll be out by lunchtime!

Wrong. One of the guys that I work with took a cue from me a called in today – saying that he had “the same thing” that I had. Smart move on his part… but it also means that I probably won’t be able to leave today. Bastard. Maybe I can set it up to get a full day off tomorrow…hmm…

Posted in Classic JQW

I Wish Someone Would Fire Me

January 22, 2004

I’ve never been fired before. I’ve never been allowed to leave in a blaze of glory (or shame).

When I worked at Target many, many years ago, I put in my 2 weeks’ notice and left the same day. My new store manager was a dick, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I got a job at Bank X  after that, and had to leave because the Teller Manager pulled a scandal, and tried to take everybody else down with her. It’s a long story; just know know that I had to bail out on it…

After that, I began my first run with _______. I only stayed for a year and bounced. For those of you who don’t know, _______ is plagued by ungodly levels of middle management. I was itching to go, so I went to…

_______. Truth be told, I liked this company. I honestly enjoyed working there. Only problem was, they were about to do layoffs when I had to take some time off. Unfortunately, they couldn’t tell me that they were laying folks off, so they didn’t grant me the time off. Needless to say, I chunked the deuce.

Then comes my second tour of _______. I was hesitant to do it, but they were offering to double the salary that I made at_______. Couldn’t refuse. However, I was miserable from day one. By the time I decided to take some extended time off, I was on written warning. Holler…. I wasn’t sticking around, even though the pay was good.

Which brings me to ________ Bank. This place sucks. It’s so fucking backwards. I know that I won’t be here for long. I wanna switch the game up this time: I wanna get fired. I wanna go out like Willie Turner. I don’t wanna go quietly. I wanna piss off as many customers as I can until they have no choice to let me go. I want to get an unemployment check. I need a job that I can’t include on my resume. This is the one. I’m not kidding.

This job is so unchallenging and boring. It fucking sucks.

Help me.

Posted in Classic JQW

54 Degrees inside

January 21, 2004

I hate my job.

On top of that, it was colder than a motherfucker inside today. See, they moved my bank branch to a temporary location while they’re rebuilding it. Somehow, nobody saw fit to connect the heater in this bitch. Somehow, the automated system decided that it would pump AC into the building all night, even though it was like 40 degrees outside last night. The result – it was 54 degrees when we walked inside this morning. That’s too damn cold…

 Because of that, I was in a foul mood pretty much all day. (Actually, I think I would have been in a foul mood regardless.) My fingers were going numb the whole morning. There’s nothing like talking to a customer and suddenly breaking out in the shivers. That’s pretty gangster…

 They finally turned the heat on at 4pm. I was ready to go by then. Not only did they turn it on, but they had that sumbitch on full blast!

 I hate the fact that I have “goals” at work. “Goals” only tell me that I have to force shit onto people that I normally wouldn’t care about. Do I give a fuck if someone buys an annuity or mutual fund? I won’t lose any sleep either way. As a financial advisor, I believe in offering people a) what they want and b) what they truly need. Most people I run into don’t need what i’m supposed to be selling them. (Don’t try to tell the bank that!) I tell folks straight up, “You don’t need ___. I don’t feel that it’s necessary to get ___. What you really need is ___. We don’t have it, but ___ does. That’s what I would honestly do if I were you.” Here at the bank, they basically tell you to cookie-cut motherfuckers and sell them the shit – no matter the age, financial situation, or legal status. I can’t get with it.

 All I know is, when I leave my current job at ________ Bank, i’m not giving notice or anything. They’re gonna see a key on an empty desk when I go to lunch. I’m not fucking around.

Posted in Classic JQW

Customer Complaint

January 20, 2004

I hate my job.

I received my first official customer complaint today. It’s actually kind of an honor to me because it’s not something that happens often. Words can’t describe the joy I feel right now. Maybe because there is no joy…

You know how it is when you try to help somebody and you tell them in advance that x can go wrong; and if x  goes wrong they can come back to you and you can do y to fix it quickly? Well, x happened. But dumbass comes in and is all over me about it. I try to reiterate what I told him before, but he cuts me off.

“I don’t want you to talk – I just want you to listen to me.”

Which is exactly what I do. He goes on and on for the next 20 minutes. I say not a word. He asks for a reply, but I give him the blankest stare possible.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m only doing what you wanted me to do. You didn’t tell me when I could speak again.”

He then asks for my manager, who explains the exact same thing to him.

He then asks to file a written complaint against me, and I ask him if he wants a blue or black pen. He takes the black one and fills out the complaintwhile I cycle thru my emails. He gives the complaint to my manager, who takes it into his office and tears it up.

You can’t fuck with a person that doesn’t give a fuck.

Posted in Classic JQW