MORE Conversations From the Professional Front Lines

[Broomstick]

Well, it turns out a Bitch Manager pitched a fit about a schedule change this morning. In a public area. Then accused me of eavesdropping because I just happened to be in that room doing my job. Then she bullied and took out her anger/frustration on a subordinate. Then called me into an office with a "witness" for a 15 minute dressing down and insisted I detail my job and what I've been doing - keep in mind she has no authority over me and I'm a completely different department. Among the features of the dressing down was 1) offering to help a co-worker and 2) failing to meet with my actual boss this morning, who wasn't in today!

Oh, the overheard conversation? About another manager allegedly not knowing her job, get promoted due to kissing ass, and how Bitch Manager was going to "fix that". That manager being my boss.

1) I loathe and despite bullies. Bitch Manager bullied her subordinate. Upper management will here about that

2) My manager is not a kiss-ass. In fact, she's so far from kiss-ass the very notion is laughable... except, of course, for the several hours of drama Bitch Manager generated this morning.

3) I do not intimidate. This attempt at intimidation/retribution for overhearing a conversation in a public place will also be taken to upper management.

Actually, I'm pretty fucking pissed off. I'd much rather spend the energy required to deal with this bullshit on my actual job.

[Prannon]

Knowing how things went with the pumpkin harpy, I have a feel that Bitch Manager don't know what she's getting herself into.

Unless the higher ups don't back you up.

[Broomstick]

Well, went into work yesterday and when I saw MyBoss I said I needed some of her time to talk about what happened yesterday. She said something about having heard something went down and said she'd get to me (they were doing inventory on frozen food and she was helping out). I said OK and went to do my job.

As it turns out BitchManager and Bitch'sCrony were both out (yay).

About an hour later, the co-worker I'm teamed up with this week - the one I got in trouble for offering to help, call her ProjectCoworker, was talking to MyBoss about BitchManager. And by talking, I'm mean talking loudly and heatedly about the bullshit. I confirmed some of what she was saying. Also, I had spoken briefly on my way out yesterday with ProjectCoworker to make sure we were cool with each other. Apparently that resulted in BitchManager pitching another fit. I said yeah, she had forbidden me from talking with ProjectCoworker, even said I couldn't when off the clock. We both said we had ignored that because, working together in my department we needed to communicate. Also, we get along otherwise.

This segued into my conversation with MyBoss, where I detailed what had happened to me, what I had overheard, what I had observed happening to other people (at one point, after a "meeting", my ProjectCoworker had been literally shaking with hurt and anger), the interference with my job, etc. MyBoss wasn't happy about it and asked me for a written statement. Which I then whipped out of my pocket (yeah, I write stuff down, and I usually bring a copy to meetings like that. Two pages worth). Apparently I wasn't the only one showing up with a prepared statement. MyBoss told the people who didn't come with a written statement to write one - said yes, on company time was fine, it was, after all, company business. Then MyBoss got a phone call which was another backroom worker - on her day off, but wanted to give MyBoss a brief summary anyway and said she had three pages written down she'd be bringing in her next shift for MyBoss.

In other words, this wasn't about just two people and BitchManager.

MyBoss is also telling people such as myself and ProjectCoworker to make a formal complaint with HR about this.

MyBoss said she'd deal with this, she'd take it to the store director, and since the store director's boss was also coming this week she'd bring him into the loop, because apparently BitchManager had spent her entire shift having "meetings" with people over this schedule change involving ONE PERSON, which had been announced weeks in advance and which was not going to be undone no matter how much BitchManager bitched about it.

Apparently, BitchManager has had a vendetta against MyBoss for some time, but now it's spilling over onto other people. Basically, BitchManager is treating everyone under MyBoss like shit and punishing the subordinates.

So, yeah, at least my boss is on board. (StoreDirector is out until Wednesday, but apparently had been given a brief phone call/heads up)

Oh, the reaction among the masses to MyBoss being called a kiss-up? "What? She's like, the anti-kiss-up. If she stood next to a kiss-up they'd annihilate each other like a matter/anti-matter reaction." (MyBoss is the manager who told that truck driver to fuck off a few weeks back, it's up thread)

[Broomstick]

Knowing how things went with the pumpkin harpy, I have a feel that Bitch Manager don't know what she's getting herself into.

Probably not - after all, I've got hobbies more scary than BitchManager.

(I muttered that to a coworker who went "ha-ha-ha - oh, wait, you do....")

Unless the higher ups don't back you up.

I don't know if BitchManager will get fired over this (although a certain contingent of staff is hoping), it's awful hard to fire people outside of, say, actual theft from the store, but I gather that in the past upper management has penalized her for asshatttery. Problem is, of course, some people just don't get it.

[Raw Shark]

Asshats will try to sit on heads, as surely as the moon will rise when you pull down your pants and touch your toes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

YOUR DRIVER: So did you guys have a good Super Bowl?

AMBER THE STRIPPER: She did. I was in fucking jail until about eight hours ago.

PEYTON THE STRIPPER: I really did! I wore my Broncos hat, and my Broncos socks, and my orange thong, with a Hi My Name is Peyton! sticker on my boob and had the best day ever.

AMBER: Yeah, go fuck yourself.

YOUR DRIVER: Shit, what happened?

AMBER: So the two of us were getting a ride home from Joy on Saturday, and she was kind of wasted but not too bad, like we thought she was okay to drive, right? But then she went the wrong way on Blake and we got pulled over. The cops ran our IDs, and it turns out I had a warrant for not going to traffic class two years ago, which I totally spaced on.

YOUR DRIVER: Like you do.

AMBER: Right? So they cuff me and Joy, and then they let this bitch go, even though she had all the cocaine in her purse. And I don't mean all the cocaine for that night, I mean ALL THE COCAINE, as in, somebody get on the phone with Columbia and tell them to make more, right fucking now. Do they even search her? Nope! But I go to jail over speeding tickets.

PEYTON: What? I'm a good girl.

AMBER: So, we're in girl jail. Literally everybody there except us is a street whore. Joy is freaking the fuck out, because she already has a DUI and she's going to actually get locked up this time, so I'm just trying to make her laugh and get her to calm down. They take our clothes and tell us to put on these gigantic granny panties, which don't fit half of us, and all the hookers are all weird and self-conscious, like they're trying to cover themselves up and shit, so I was like, "Seriously, you guys will suck a dick for fifty dollars but you don't want strippers to see your pussy?" So Joy starts laughing, and all the hookers hate me.

YOUR DRIVER: Nice.

AMBER: So I'm on a roll at that point, so I pulled the granny panties up over my boobs like Steve Urkell and walked around doing his voice, and then most of the hookers were laughing too, and the female cop got all pissed. She was like, "Stop laughing right now! This isn't funny! Jail is not supposed to be funny."

YOUR DRIVER: If you don't think that's funny, there's something wrong with you.

AMBER: That's what I said!

[FaxModem1]

So, had a phone call with the headquarters yesterday about the email I received a few days ago, and received an email today. My contract is being moved to March, and my training will start in March instead of having me move to San Diego, fly back to Dallas for training, and then fly back to San Diego for the job for a year. We'll see though.

[U.P. Cinnabar]

The one place I worked for where we couldn't hang up on clients, at all, ever, was balls-to-the-wall about morale, with an attempt at maintaining enthusiasm and determination at all times because our product (AT&T International Landline Long Distance service, Business Division) was fucking impossible to sell. Every time I actually managed to make a sale there, I had a little bell on my desk to ring for the manager to come over and give me a $5 on the spot. We all had gangsta rap-themed nicknames for the scoreboard. Lots of cheering and high-fives. It was so loud in there, I had to get under my desk and cover my ears over my headphones to pitch a live one sometimes.

Does anyone ever notice that the workplaces which force morale, and have stupid gimmicks for same...almost always have the lowest morale?

Oh, wait, that's the employees' fault for not being enthusiastic about being dehumanized and worked like Hebrew slaves for unrealistic goals.

Service is always hardest to sell, especially life and health insurance(the people I work for offer both). It doesn't help when customers a) need it, and can't afford it, b) don't think they need it at all, c) don't know what it is, d) confuses life insurance with Obamacare or similar, or e) already have it.

Along, of course, with the usual other headaches of cold calling(not interested, bad timing, etc.), and the fact that I get cursed out, oh, once every fifth or sixth call.

Not my favorite part of the job.

Once the appointments are booked, and I'm on the road, though, it's a different story, even if I don't make a sale. I had one elderly couple in Commerce just the other day, the lady was suspicious, reluctant to give out her date of birth(she'd only give me her birth year)or any other personal information, while her Alzheimer's-ridden husband regaled me with the days when Ma Parker and Bonnie and Clyde raised hell in this otherwise sleepy little corner of Oklahoma, and told me I looked a bit like Pretty Boy Floyd.

(he also had a lucid moment, if he asked if the product I was trying to sell had anything to do with Obamacare)

Also, and this is just me, I get to try out all these little mom and pop restaurants, while traipsing through Green Country from appointment to appointment.

[U.P. Cinnabar]

1) I loathe and despite bullies. Bitch Manager bullied her subordinate. Upper management will here about that

2) My manager is not a kiss-ass. In fact, she's so far from kiss-ass the very notion is laughable... except, of course, for the several hours of drama Bitch Manager generated this morning.

3) I do not intimidate. This attempt at intimidation/retribution for overhearing a conversation in a public place will also be taken to upper management.

I had a supervisor like that on my previous job, real psychopath, and, on top of that, a fantical Christian Identity-leaning Catholic, as well as a devout believer in every whackjob conspiracy under the sun. And, I do mean every theory, including flat-earth nonsense, which he didn't hesitate to inflict on my buddy Rick and myself, every day he invited himself to our table at lunch.

He was also an overt, unabashed racist(he insisted on telling Rick Obama was "his President," when the man didn't vote for him), proudly defending Zimmerman and Darren Wilson, and, it goes without saying he packed a .38 Special, and claimed to have an AR-type assault rifle at the house.

Attempts to take this to HR resulted in the blonde bubblehead cheerleader excuse for an HR manager telling me "he's under tremendous pressure, and you should cut him some slack."

Did I forget to mention he was wheeled out of the facility in a straitjacket almost ten years ago, and spent a not inconsiderable amount of time in the psych ward in Tulsa? And, that management, in its infintestimal management wisdom, just let him come back, and take up from where he'd left off?

I'm glad you work for a good manager, Broomstick. Gods know they are few and far between, or so it seems. Here's hoping your situation resolves itself and Bitch Manager gets what's coming.

[U.P. Cinnabar]

It's the day before Superbowl Day...

OMIGOD OMIGOD QUICK BUY BEER BUY BOOZE BUY SNACK FOOD BUY BEER BUY DEEP FRIED CHICKEN PARTS BUY BEER BUY MORE BEER ....!

Holy fuck, people are batshit crazy!

When Tropical Storm Frances stalled out over Warner Robins twelve years ago, and I and my then-cart pushing co-workers were calf-deep in water, being pelted by hair, and dodging cart corrals being smashed into people's cars, thatwas when people decided they needed food, flashlights, batteries, emergency supplies, and the like.

Naturally, every one of them bitched and moaned about there not being any dry carts in the cart bays.


I'll shut up now. Didn't mean to spam.

[U.P. Cinnabar]

^Hail. I meant hail. Damn fat finger syndrome.

[Broomstick]

Apparently, when confronted with what happened Sunday BitchManager didn't do the usual tactic of such asshats (plead it was all misunderstanding of some sort) but rather flat-out denied that anything had happened.

Which doesn't explain the multiple written statements....

[Enigma]

Apparently, when confronted with what happened Sunday BitchManager didn't do the usual tactic of such asshats (plead it was all misunderstanding of some sort) but rather flat-out denied that anything had happened.

Which doesn't explain the multiple written statements....

Because she knows the noose is tightening.

[Broomstick]

Now that the initial outrage has worn off I'm entering a somewhat pessimistic phase in regards to this.

[Lagmonster]

The following occurred between an older pre-retirement Boomer scientist and a Gen-X middle-manager:

Boomer: (checking his phone) "Ugh. I hate the way Millennials type PINs. It's like a freaking code."
Gen-X: "Heh. In my day, the only words we were allowed to misspell was "X-treme". And anything with a hard "C".
Boomer: (deadpan) "We had to spell every word correctly, but we could be express awful sentiments as often as we liked and few people cared."

[Raw Shark]

BROKEN ANKLE GUY: What time is it, anyway?

YOUR DRIVER: Half past three.

BROKEN ANKLE GUY: Oh man, I've only got two hours to crash before I have to get up for work.

YOUR DRIVER: Yikes, good luck with that.

[time passes; we talk about the election; nothing funny that I recall]

BROKEN ANKLE GUY: Hey, hypothetically-speaking, if I found a bag of coke back here, could I keep it?

YOUR DRIVER: Knock yourself out. That shit is the last thing a rage-filled beast like me needs.

BROKEN ANKLE GUY: Are you sure? It's kind of a lot.

YOUR DRIVER: Positive, thanks.

BROKEN ANKLE GUY: No, thank you!

YOUR DRIVER: How much are we talking about here, anyway?

BROKEN ANKLE GUY: Check this out...

YOUR DRIVER: Holy fuck, that looks like more than a teener. That had to have been the one totally shitfaced guy that I picked up at the speakeasy.

BROKEN ANKLE GUY: Yeah it does. Looks like I'm not getting any sleep before work after all!

[Napoleon the Clown]

Did you give a ride to Dr. Rockso that night or something?

[Raw Shark]

He told me he was a grade school teacher, if that makes you feel better or worse.

[Alyrium Denryle]

He told me he was a grade school teacher, if that makes you feel better or worse.

Worse. So much worse.

[Raw Shark]

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: Hey, man. You takin' fares? I've been trying to get a cab for like two hours.

YOUR DRIVER: No shit, huh? I'd love to, but my fucking brakes just went out on me. After I asked the shop to check them, even.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: That's bullshit. Maybe it's something simple, did you look at it yet?

YOUR DRIVER: Nah, I just drive 'em, I don't fuck with 'em. I'm waiting on a tow, but it's probably going to be two or three hours they said.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: Want me to look at it? I'm going a long way, I could use a discount...

YOUR DRIVER: Shit, if you can get me back on the road, I'll do it for half off.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: [examining the car in an amateur but experienced manner] I've always been a Ford man, myself...

YOUR DRIVER: Yeah, I grew up in a Ford family.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: Looks like we have the same barber, too! Are you with the Brotherhood?

YOUR DRIVER: Uh. It was a fashion decision for me, not political. My hair started falling out when I was nineteen. [lying like a rug in the following statement because he's cold and doesn't want to get in a fist fight and the guy's doing him a favor] I stay out of politics. Don't believe in it. Nothing personal.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: [launches into a long monologue promoting Donald Trump, and the importance of exercising your democratic franchise if you're not a convicted felon, because you have to for all of us]

YOUR DRIVER: [rubs eyes tiredly; looks at the moon and wishes it was a god he could pray to to strike one or, failing that, the both of us down]

[The Grim Squeaker]

Well, I got put in charge of something super big, scary and awesome.
Also, I'll be doing this, only in real life:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWFJw5TnQgs

(i.e "A Data scientists wet dream of data". Combined with Petabytes of data on a preSQL 1970's system. And it's legal and ethical work too!

[U.P. Cinnabar]

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: Hey, man. You takin' fares? I've been trying to get a cab for like two hours.

YOUR DRIVER: No shit, huh? I'd love to, but my fucking brakes just went out on me. After I asked the shop to check them, even.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: That's bullshit. Maybe it's something simple, did you look at it yet?

YOUR DRIVER: Nah, I just drive 'em, I don't fuck with 'em. I'm waiting on a tow, but it's probably going to be two or three hours they said.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: Want me to look at it? I'm going a long way, I could use a discount...

YOUR DRIVER: Shit, if you can get me back on the road, I'll do it for half off.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: [examining the car in an amateur but experienced manner] I've always been a Ford man, myself...

YOUR DRIVER: Yeah, I grew up in a Ford family.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: Looks like we have the same barber, too! Are you with the Brotherhood?

YOUR DRIVER: Uh. It was a fashion decision for me, not political. My hair started falling out when I was nineteen. [lying like a rug in the following statement because he's cold and doesn't want to get in a fist fight and the guy's doing him a favor] I stay out of politics. Don't believe in it. Nothing personal.

HULKING SKINHEAD W/ TEARDROP TATTOO: [launches into a long monologue promoting Donald Trump, and the importance of exercising your democratic franchise if you're not a convicted felon, because you have to for all of us]

YOUR DRIVER: [rubs eyes tiredly; looks at the moon and wishes it was a god he could pray to to strike one or, failing that, the both of us down]

Wouldn't the teardrop tattoo indicate that he is a convicted felon? Somewhat chilling to know that Trump always has the skinhead vote. Yeeaaahhh....

If I were you, Shark, I'd put a line through this week, kick back and relax in the method of your choice.

[Raw Shark]

Wouldn't the teardrop tattoo indicate that he is a convicted felon? Somewhat chilling to know that Trump always has the skinhead vote. Yeeaaahhh....

The teardrop tattoo or tear tattoo is a symbolic tattoo of a tear that is placed underneath the eye. The tattoo can have various meanings: it can signify that the wearer has killed someone or has spent time in prison; that the wearer was raped while incarcerated or it can acknowledge the loss of a family or fellow gang member. Sometimes, only the wearer will know the exact meaning of the tattoo.

The answer based on the tattoo alone is a definite maybe, but based on that plus the dialogue I would say almost positive, yes. Considering that we were on a dark stretch of road at about 2am in a bad neighborhood, I'm frankly just glad that he more-or-less saw me as a friendly because of my big, bald, white head, and turned out to only be boring, annoying, and worryingly-proficient at Trumpist rhetoric aimed at motivating the apathetic racist right wing. It's like they have secret political activism training camps inside prisons now. Maybe they do, informally. I'm sure Donny Jingles could smuggle a lot of cash to the inside if he wanted to.

[Iroscato]

Did the politically active gentleman manage to fix your car, RS?

[Raw Shark]

Did the politically active gentleman manage to fix your car, RS?

He did not, but he made a valiant hobbyist effort until the tow truck got there. I shook his hand and wished him good luck. He urged me to vote Trump. I managed to not head-butt him.

[U.P. Cinnabar]

It's like they have secret political activism training camps inside prisons now. Maybe they do, informally. I'm sure Donny Jingles could smuggle a lot of cash to the inside if he wanted to.

That is as plausible, as it is frightening.