Survival of the Fittest

So instead of a guy getting trampled to death, we had one person get shot because they refused to give up their purchases; and another twenty people were injured when some dumbass bitch thought it would be awesome to shoot people with pepper spray, just so she could get a cheap xbox 360. Really, people? Or should I say “retailers”? You’re so goddamn greedy for money that you have to perpetuate the Black Friday Psychosis, rather than spread out the deals and…I dunno…save some lives?

*”what is this world coming to?” sigh*


I can’t say that my life has been running much better. In fact, it’s been a series of small-medium incidences the past several days.


Since my grandma left for Florida early this year and my Great-Great Aunt Grace decided she didn’t want to join us, Mom and I went to our cousins’ house (Karen and Gene) for dinner on Thursday. So here I am, rounding the curve onto 50 and I happen to check the time…and my clock is gone. I get there (I was the first one, but only by a whole five minutes) and my power locks won’t go. Amy was still willing to start as of about ten after nine Thursday night, so it might be the alternator or some other electrical issue.

Yesterday, I pissed off the “Queen of the Store”.

No, seriously.

There’s this woman that has been working there for a Very Long Time and…well…you’ll see. (I won’t specify how long, because I don’t want this to get back to her and cause more shit.)

It was getting near time for me to clock out for dinner, so to waste those last few minutes, I decided to ring up one of the two or three customers waiting in line. There was a gentleman waiting at the back of the counter with a big box, so I said something to the effect of, “Are you all set?” and before he could say something like, “No, I’m already being helped; thank you.” the Queen jumps in my shit!

Apparently, I had “stolen” two other customers from her that day and since I was about to steal a third, the Queen was offended. She said something like, “I don’t like saying anything in front of customers, but you’ve already stolen two customers from me today and I’ve had enough!” But she doesn’t say it quietly…she says it in front of all the customers that were waiting at the registers and within earshot!¹ I guess the Queen’s rule is, if you help them on the floor, they’re automatically your customer and you are the only one allowed to ring them up. Isn’t that insane?!² So I muttered sorry and went straight to the office. To ask for a transfer.

I figured if this whole “you’re stealing my customers!” shit was going to be a regular thing (and I’m sure it will be), I didn’t want to be based in home anymore. I wanted to be an uncategorized flex associate, so I could pick my own shifts and stay the hell away from the home department. To cut a long conversation with management short, I’m still assigned to home…nothing’s changed. And apparently the Queen jumps in the managers’ shit on a regular basis, too. (She must be a great seller or something, because I’d think that any other company would’ve told her to take a hike a long time ago. [Based on my experiences at Walmart, the managers I had would’ve canned her ass for insubordination post-haste!])

So I decided, “If you’re going to be a bitch, I’m not going to tell you when I’m going to dinner. I’m just going to punch out and disappear.” And I did just that, timing it in such a way that she had very little of her shift left by the time I got back. (I stayed out of her way after I got back, of course.)

As if all that wasn’t bad enough, I woke up this morning with a bum knee.

It didn’t hurt at all during work or during my quick trip to Meijer afterward, and if it hurt when I got home last night, I probably just blew it off as normal abuse after working ten hours.

But it definitely hurt this morning. It woke me up at 9:30 and by 9:45, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. So I called and checked to see what time my chiropractor closed, called in “injured” to work, called Mom to say that she was getting her car back early, dressed and took off. Fortunately, my bad knee didn’t turn into a bad day. Well, except for a couple of panic attacks. (*annoyed sigh*) Only a few more days ’til the psychiatrist…maybe she’ll suggest taking a whole Klonopin, instead of a half.

The chiro on duty put my knee back together and adjusted a few other things (cleaning up more wear and tear from yesterday, most like) and then I caught up with my mom near Oak Park and we ran around town together.

Well, I should say that I drove her to the library and gimped to the nearest chair to wait for her. Then I waited for her in the car at the post office and the recycling center. And when we got the recyclables, I grabbed her purse, so she treated me to lunch at the Eaton Place and we brainstormed for Christmas presents. (It was a seriously productive lunch. And a delicious one…I love Eaton Place’s olive burgers. ^_^)

After we finished there, we took a slice of lemon pie (left over from Thanksgiving) to Aunt Grace and had a short visit, then Mom took me home. (Or rather, I drove because I was feeling funny and dropped myself off and she drove her car back into town.) I did a few things (including start the laundry), then collapsed for a nap from about four to six-thirty.

Oh, I have to tell you what I’m thankful for this year?

Don’t you already know?

William James Remar.

Of course.

(By the way…someone who is either a financial big shot in LA or really “no one at all” got lucky enough to have Jamie come over to his sister’s house for the holiday. So I have a pic of him slicing a turkey.) (His head’s down, but I know it’s him…knew it was him when I looked at the preview on Twitter and could only see his hands and arms. You love someone long enough, you know every part of them.)


¹ When I related this story to her, Mom said calling me out in front of a bunch of customers makes her look bad and is a great way to lose customers…they’ll be sure to ask for someone else next time. (She would know…she has a degree in business and has been in sales since before I was born.)

² All I can think of is that it’s the goddamn sales goals. Since the Queen is a vet, she was expected to do over 5k in sales on Friday, while I–as fresh meat–was only expected to do just shy of 2k. It sure as hell isn’t commission–only women’s shoes, makeup and fine jewelry are commissioned.

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