That’s the word that describes my day right now. I’m supposed to be working on my composition paper, but I’m going to be up for a while doing that and I need to rant about a few things.
Usually I try to maintain a positive outlook on things. After all, there are a whole lot of people and things to be thankful for and love, like Rachel.
But sometimes one thing or another happens that makes me want to blast forth a rant with the fires of Hades, so I can laugh about it when I’m done. This is one of those times.
I’ve got tendonitis in both my wrists thanks to cashiering for Giant. The right wrist is worst, so I’ve got a nifty wrist brace on it, which helps most of the time. Tonight, however, both my wrists were hurting quite badly. That right there casts everything in an unfavorable mood. When I’m working and everything I do involves moving my wrists in some way, that means I’m pretty much constantly in pain. Time to cinch up the wrist brace and tighten my watchband (that’s how I’ve been supporting my left wrist when it hurts). Add to this that there have been nonstop customers wrapping around the store, the place is understaffed, and there’s a complicated sale going on for very specific items, meaning that every other customer realizes that what they’re buying isn’t on sale and wants you to take it off their order.
This short woman comes to the line with her average cartload of groceries. She’s the short gray-haired red-faced plump older mother that screams of trouble. True to her stereotype.
The first thing she says is something like, “Alright Michael, these spaghetti sauces were on an end cap and the sign said three for a dollar. That’s not the price in your paper, so if they ring up the price that’s everywhere else and in your catalogue, you’d better fix it.” Inwardly I’m rolling my eyes, knowing there’s going to be some kind of problem. I know that Jenny, one of the submanagers, is cashiering right behind me, so I figure I’ll be able to quickly deal with any problems that could arise. Heh. When I get to the sauces, naturally the ring up for the listed sale price, which is only 90 cents off. She looks at the screen.
“That’s not the right price.” In a tone of voice that says, “I told you that already, so why did it happen anyway.” When whatever the computer does is pretty much outside my control. Apparently it’s become my job to keep the Giant computer systems completely up to date. Just like I do with everybody else who has a sale problem, I turn to the store sale paper and start flipping through it to see if I can find a different price.
She immediately starts getting angry and informs me none too politely that she talked with a manager already and they said that I could fix it. I gently told her that if there was a price discrepancy, she would need to take it to customer service so they could deal with the problem. If it’s a store problem, it goes to customer service.
“Well if that’s the case you need to get customer service over here right now, or I’m going to have a serious beef blah blah blah…” I really don’t remember much of the actual dialogue because I tend to tune stuff like this out. Anyway, she went on about how customer service and managers needed to come to my register right now, so I glanced back at the customer service desk. I didn’t see anybody there, and I know how long it takes for a manager to get there, and Jenny was behind me obviously busy cashiering, so I told her that the managers were very busy right now.
At this point my voice is really quiet, a huge contrast against her sharp tones and red-faced shouting. My heart is pounding so hard you could probably see it through my shirt. Confrontation Mode Activated.
More yelling from her. I turn around and look at Jenny, and she says to just ring my bell, which I do. Mrs. Bitchy starts lecturing me about my attitude, of all things, and how she has an employee “beef” with me now also.
I’m sorry, but the only real beef I’m seeing is her jowls. Heather suddenly appears to my left, and Lady breaks off from reaming me out, and her voice suddenly changes. She starts talking to Heather in a tone so sickeningly sweet I want to puke. Mind you, she began our short relationship with quick-tempered demands. She never even tried to be pleasant to me. She’s all telling Heather how she was plainly telling me that the price was wrong and all I wanted to do was flip through the paper, and I told her that the managers were busy, and so on. Basically everything I did do, in good faith. Everybody around can see that I didn’t do anything wrong.
I end up voiding off the sauces and putting them back on under the 2/$3 price. Heather tells me to go do the self scans until the woman is gone. There’s what happened.
Bitch. I so didn’t do anything, and I had people coming up to me from all directions telling me that I didn’t do anything wrong. It just pissed me off that she was reaming me out for nothing. For crying out loud, what was her problem? Y’know, there are peaceful ways to deal with extremely simple problems like incorrect prices for food. Bitch.
Just like I said at the beginning, now that I’ve typed all this stuff out I feel better and can laugh about it. Too bad I missed a really awesome party to be yelled at by a good for nothing idiot. Now I get to spend the rest of my night, or rather, morning, trying to get a paper finished for Thursday.
Today was terrible.
I need Rachel snuggles.