Friday, June 27, 2014

In Which, I Though I Was Done

Yesterday was originally my last shift at the coffee shop. However, when I went in earlier this week, I saw my name down on the schedule for next week. I was obviously confused, as I had put in my two weeks notice. I knew this, my manager knew this, my coworkers knew this, even you all on the internet knew this. And yet, there I was. On the schedule. I was even scheduled on my birthday, which was a big ol' Hell No - 2 weeks notice or otherwise.
It took some work to pin my manager to the wall to see what the eff had happened. I maintain she was doing her best to avoid me - our District Manager had just come through and dinged us for a bunch of stuff we were doing wrong and I suspect she was in some mildly deep shit. That being said - I don't really care. This whole "Working beyond my 2 weeks" thing is kind of important. My fellow coworkers asked whether or not I was going to show up-because I didn't really have to and they wouldn't blame me if I didn't.
I frankly found that upsetting, that they lived in a world that if I ditched them, they'd be resigned to it.
Once my manager used her Grown Up Words, it was revealed that it was either put me on the schedule or cancel her vacation.
Now, I'm not really a cold hard bitch like that. I don't wanna see anyone cancel their vacation, no matter how much I don't like working there. However - I basically said, "What's in it for me?" and we went from there. I maneuvered my way from a lot of hours not-so-many hours and my manager gets her holiday. (And I'm sooooooooo not working my birthday).

Like Bing Crosby says - Everyone's working a little angle. I have no problem working it to my advantage if I have to.

In completely unrelated news...

I had to go to the dentist earlier this week and worked myself into a veritable tizzy over it. I haven't seen a dentist since I was about 26 and lost my dental insurance due to aging out. I also haven't seen a dentist because the dentist I was seeing died.
...I really liked my dentist. I used to be terrified of him, but he was really excellent. And then he died. I wasn't terribly keen on finding another one who didn't scare the living crap out of me. Not having insurance also didn't help the situation. He did a lot of work on my mouth-probably bought him a condo in Boca or something.

Well, fast forward to this past weekend. I had a bit of a toothache, but ignored it. I grind my teeth like a maniac when I sleep and thought maybe it was from that. I've had teeth hurt from doing it in the past, but the ache has gone away (despite wearing a mouthpiece - I'm super sexy when I drool, just ask the BF).
This tooth, however, just kept on hurting. So on Monday I make an appointment with the BFs dentist, whom he says is superb. I tell him he had better be, or I'll kill him later.
I drive myself over in a state of near hysteria and end up feeling kind of stupid because the dentist ended up taking an x-ray and poking the tooth and doing nothing else.
It turns out the tooth that hurts has had some serious work done in the past (root canal and crown) and basically shouldn't be hurting. It's a long story as to why it might be hurting, but I'm on an antibiotic now and it's helping.

It also tastes like ass.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

And Now, The End Is Near

Well, gentle readers, it seems the end is nigh.

My boyfriend has been telling me, every single day to quit my job. He comes up with legitimate reasons and things I like to call "raisins", which are reasons, but crazy. "
Did you read that book I lent you?" "...No." "You should quit your job!"  <-- This is a raisin.

My friend Shara has told me to quit my job. Emily has been added to the list, as has my mother. I genuinely didn't see that one coming, as she's not usually one for quitting things that pay you. Even the lady who sells me my prescriptions at Target has told me I should quit my job.
I feel like when basic strangers, the people you run into once in a while, when they tell you to quit your job, maybe you should listen.

I've been weebling and struggling with this choice for the last week but as my hands/wrists have hurt me a lot and it looks like my store doesn't really care all that much about it, I think the time has come. I also was talking in the parking lot with another employee today, Kyle, who has been at this place a bit longer than I have. He's equally frustrated with things and considering putting in his two weeks notice as well.

Besides the health issues and the mental health issues (I'm just so miserable), there are other things that drive me insane. For instance-we run out of cups. Or vanilla. Or iced coffee. Apparently keeping things in stock is a bitch and so we've just chosen to not do that. Few things make you look as stupid as when you hand out one "large" coffee in 2 small cups because you don't have the large or the medium cups anymore.

So for the safety of my body (actual physic health, wrist/hand pain, tremor, burn, whatever) and the safety of my mind, I'm putting in my two weeks notice tomorrow.

Happy Pre-Birthday to me.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

I Should Start Adding Fotos To These

Last I checked in, my intrepid readers, I hated my job.

...I still do.

Yesterday I went to the doctor because my hands were giving me grief like whoa. (Which leads me to a brief sidenote-when did the ENTIRE INTERNET forget how to spell the word "whoa"? WHEN? HOW? It seems to have mutated into this bastardization of this thing, woah, which is not how it's spelled. Woah is not in the dictionary. Woah is not found in the OED. Do you know what is? WHOA. W H O A. That is all for today's spelling lesson.)

My hands - and my forearms - have been giving me grief. They're numb, they hurt, they tingle. It came upon me kind of suddenly and that didn't sit well with me. I made an appointment with my regular doctor, as I have an appointment with my neurologist next Thursday and I'm really rather impatient.

My doctor decided it was either one of the uckiest cases of tendonitis/carpal tunnel (in both hands because yey) he's seen in years, or it's a side effect of my super awesome tremor disorder. In the meantime, I get to wear stupid looking wrist braces. In a fit of awesomeness, the CVS I stopped at on the way to work didn't have one for my left wrist. That's probably a good thing as I don't think I could wear both of these silly things and do my job.

I'm supposed to wear them even when I sleep. I'm extra sexy these days. I've got two weeks of wrist shenans, unless the neuro tells me otherwise.

or I quit.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

My Achy Breaky (Hands)

It's been about two months at the new coffee shop and it's safe to say that it totally blows. I've grown to hate basically every second of it.

I mean, I don't mind the people all that much (my co-workers, that is). They are, for the most part, perfectly fine. Some are more helpful than others, which I'm sure you find anywhere. A few of them suffer from a slight case of the "holier than thou"-itis. I'm not sure if it's because they've been there a while or because they just have that inflated sense of self that leads to that particular condition, but it can make working with them fairly annoying and tiresome.
However, they're not my main problem.

My main problem are the customers.
Just customers in general, for that matter. For every customer that is kind and not horrible, there are at least 10 that I'd like to push into oncoming traffic. They're rude and they're pushy and they're demeaning and I cannot begin to comprehend how they think treating other people like crap is okay.
It just drives me absolutely insane.

There is also the new physical aspect of this job. This particular store is absolutely insanely busy, which is a new thing for me. My previous coffee shops weren't nearly as busy by a long shot. This means that everything we're doing, we're doing at warp speed.
Lately, my hands have been hurting like whoa. They hurt when I'm at work, they hurt when I'm home, they hurt when I'm sleeping. They hurt when I'm typing this. I'm honestly not sure how much longer I can keep it up, physically. My hands aching this much is just becoming a nuisance and makes me miserable.

Oh. And my broken toe is still giving me grief, not to mention the 2nd degree burn I gave myself on my other foot. That was a doozy of a blister.
Can I quit yet?