*couch-cough*

So... apparently in a past life I was a sailor...

Actually I aplogize for all the swearing. I ended up getting so sick of looking at it myslef that I went through and editted all the F-bombs.

And I feel I have to apologize especially to Stacy and Alex. This is your aunt, uncle and coworkers I talking about. And I'm a bitch-a-roony-doony when I'm mad. Je suis desolees.

And I called Deanne and it's all figured out. It was rather simple actually. Though she did sound a bit curt when I was talking to her on the phone on Sunday, but I might be imagining it (and even if I'm not, who cares? I don't).

And I was kidding about me just not showing up to work. I was just mad. The only reason I wouldn't show up to work from now on is if I don't know that I'm working, because unless they call and tell me, I'm not going to be there to look at the schedules.

--

I ask again: Are. You. Fricking! KIDDING ME!!?


Perhaps I'll get an answer if I start from the beginning...


So I worked at Bar Harbor this summer, and I wanted my last day to be Labor Day. They asked if I could work Fridays in September. I said fine because I want the money, but September would have to be it.

I ended up being scheduled on a SATURDAY that I requested off (today in fact). I said I couldn't work that day because I was demonstrating for Tae Kwon Do. Deanne said it would be fine if I came in late, so I said the earliest I would be coming in would be 6:00 and she said that would be fine. I then wrote down (in capital letters with explanation points) that Saturday would be my last day.

So I walk in the door and clock-in at 6:00 and I get crap for coming in late! WHAT! THE! FRICK!! I wasn't even supposed to work today, and I got PERMISSION to come in late. Don't you EFFING give me shit for coming in late when I was only asked to work Fridays it ended up not being as busy as they thought so they sent me home after 20 minutes. Which is funny in a not-so-funny way; not that I'm ungrateful, but really, what the hell.

After I clock-in I look at the schedule to make sure I'm not supposed to work any more (because I have serious doubts with this place at this point) and sure enough, I'm EFFING scheduled to work the second of OCTOBER!!!! October second is the day before Homecoming and I have to march in the parade and play at the game. So yeah, no way I'm going to be able to work.

After I vent to Allysa about this and she says that it's becasue I didn't give enough notice.

EXCUSE ME? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FRICKIN' SHITTING ME BECAUSE YOU DID NOT JUST EFFING SAY THAT!

I shouldn't have to give to EFFING give NOTICE about not working in October when I was ASKED to work FRIDAYS in SEPTEMBER when I gave my notice IN AUGUST!!!!

Allysa then followed it with saying that everyone wasn't sure that I was going to show up today. BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, I DIDN'T EFFING ASK FOR THIS DAY OFF BECAUSE I DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING GOING ON!!

You have to be FRICKIN' kidding me becuase this is all just too effing bat-shit insane NOT to be a joke.

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.
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Well FINE then.

So I talked to Steve after I clocked-out and (calmly) explained that the second isn't going to work out and that today NEEDS to be my last day because I'm so busy with family and school. I had to talk to Steve because Deanne was out until tomorrow morning. I'm going to call her tomorrow as well to make sure that they undertsand that I am no longer on call and I'm not to be sceduled anymore.

And if they still don't take me off the second I'm just not going to show up, along with anyother day they sign me up for. And Stacy and Alex, don't try and cover for me by showing up. If they need someone, they can call you but don't show up unless THEY ask, because you covering me for a day I'm not even supposed to be working completely defeats the purpose of me not showing up in the first place.



JESUS MOTHERF*CKING CHRIST~!!!



*whew*



So I feel better.

.

.

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And how was your day?

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Journal Tally:

Number of times the word "fuck" was used in this journal: 11

Number of times a swear word other than fuck was used in this journal: 4

Number of reasons why I'm going to be shot by Stacy and/or Alex: 1

That feeling of relief you get when you finish ranting about your job in a public journal on dA: Priceless



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