Saturday was a son-of-a-bitch. Come to think of it, so was my boss. I knew I should have remembered what a few of my co-workers had told me about him being a prick on Saturdays. But I was in a good mood when I walked in so I guess I was using that to protect myself from their warnings. Besides having overworked my back Friday I'm thinking a lot of the mental stress from Saturday just compounded my physical stress.
Anyway, like I said, my boss (I'll call him M) was the store's CFA for the night: Complete Fucking Asshole. No hello back when I said hello or "thank you" for the effort toward the work I was doing. My first project of the night (after grabbing shopping carts from outside) was moving Fall/Thanksgiving merch in bushel baskets from opposite top caps to another. Then I had to grab a shitload of empty bushel baskets to replace the ones I had taken down.
I had an even bigger bitch that night finishing all this. First off, I must've had customers approaching me with questions every two minutes. Above that I had at least five stockmen calls. Also, M ganked my flat cart! When I walked over to Seasonal where he was going--to look for another flat cart--he snapped at me, "Jonathan, where'd your other flat cart go?" Uh, yeah, Twinkle-Toes...YOU have it. But I wasn't about to cross the threshold and actually verbalize that.
The summer of love feeling continued. After two or three more hours of more customers with more of their dipshit questions and bushels of quite heavy glass/porcelain Fall table ware I heeded the advice my co-worker C and M's daughter B--Just go up to him and let him know you're having a hard time getting the task done; he'll understand. So I did. HA. Stupid move.
After I told him I was trying as hard as I could to finish the task despite the customer questions and stockman calls (of which there were five, contrary to his statement that I didn't have more than a couple) all he said--more like snapped--was "Maybe things would go faster if you used two ladders". AAAAUUUUCK...I fucking give up!! Nothing I was going to do or NOT do or ask or NOT ask or say or NOT say was going to help my case.
I don't know; I thought as the night progressed that Mike had (it turned out being only slightly) gotten a little less fucko-ish. When I told him I'd gotten the store-wide sweep done he told me I'd missed sweeping up the piles I'd left. I told him Brian didn't have me sweep up the piles until later on in the night. Calmly--meaning shockingly--he showed me that customers would walk by the piles and see them, so I should grab the broom and dustpan and go ahead and sweep them up.
But, as the saying goes, the damage was done. He wasn't going to loosen up and relax. He was a jerk the rest of the night. And I know Babe told me I need to distance myself from the vibes I get from him when I work with him on Saturdays but I know I won't be able to get the apprehension and nervousness to subside if I work with him on an upcoming Saturday.
Ouch...now my head hurts!