Anyway, sorry about my rant. I went over Neil's last night. I just showed up at his apartment and he was just getting there, which was good since I've never been there during the day so I had no idea that his building was yellow. We went downtown and ordered Chinese, then ran all over town, looking for a place to cash a check since I couldn't remember my pin number (it's a card I never use, don't laugh). The food was good, but I only ate half my Gen. Tsos and rice. Tonya and Katie showed up and we all ended up going to Applebee's for dessert. Everyone bonded. Tonya, Katie and I have decided we'll probably get an apartment together in the winter. Whoo-hoo, roomies!
Sunday, July 09, 2000
What a rotten day at work. There were six call-ins, three of whom were in Mass watching Dave Matthews. Shuh...what-ever! Must be nice to just take off a day from work. SPEAKING of days off, mine's tomorrow, thank GOD. I swear, I couldn't take one more minute there tonight. Parris was driving me up the friggin' wall and everything I did was wrong. The shiftleaders were busting my ass for everything and every time I tried to regain my goodness, it would backfire on me. I was so pissed by the end of night, I could hardly speak to anyone. I told Parris to stay away from me. Sometimes I realize how much older I am than the people who work there, and how much Hannaford's is like a big daycare center. I don't know how I'm going to be shiftleader when no one listens to me now. Screw them. I don't even care if I get it anymore. It'd just be a big hassle anyway. Maybe I'm outgrowing that job. I need some more responsibilities or something. I hate the fact that I "get in trouble". I'm almost 21 years old, for Christ's sake, and I "get in trouble" or "get a talking-to". I'm so glad my day off is tomorrow, even Ania will be telling people who got what positions. Everyone thinks I'm a big joker and a slacker. Maybe I am, who knows. Some of the people treat me like I'm 12, like I don't know what I'm doing. Hello, I've worked there for a year and two months. Working at a grocery store really doesn't require high SAT scores, if you catch my meaning. You don't need a college degree to memorize codes and know what the word "chrome" means and that you need to wash it with Windex and paper towel NOT a sponge that's been washing nasty registers all day and has soaked up it's weight in scary, green belt water. Hell, you don't really need a high school dimploma (not that many people have one there, but I digress...). Maybe I'm just cranky. I'm sure that's it.
Posted by Jen at 11:46 PM