Velouria (velouria) wrote,
Velouria
velouria

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Now I'm Free.

I knew something was awry at work today. I knew when I couldn't bring myself to say anything besides "what's up" to customers and then "true story" when they asked if that was really how much something costed. I just couldn't manage anything remotely civil. So when they said they wanted to see me upstairs, I didn't figure it was to give me a raise.

Upstairs, they lead me to a teeny tiny room with some woman I'd never seen before in my life, forced me to shake her hand, informed me the conversation was being recorded, and then locked the door.

"I'm going to ask you a loaded question." She then proceeded to ask me a loaded question (after giving me examples of a loaded question) for almost an hour about the 4 things employees do to contribute to store loss, and which area did I think I was responsible for contributing in.

When I asked her what she was accusing me of, she asked why I was so defensive.

"I'm not a moron."

"Who said you were a moron?"

"You are."

So I finally got her to admit that I was here because I'd let Ian's parents use his employee privilige card to save 30 cents on some toilet paper last Thursday, 8:03 PM. They had it on video. Ian had been fired. And I was being put on suspension by her, head of Prevention Loss for Longs Drugs.

Oh boy. The things that came out of my mouth. Five years of pent-up rage came flying from the depths of my hollowed out, retail-desecrated shell of a human soul.

She kept exclaiming that she'd never met someone with such an outrageous attitude, asked me repeatedly what had brought me to this frame of mind, couldn't believe I had such a disrespect for authority, and suggested she and I both have an escort out of the building because I was "so aggressive."

When she found out my purse was downstairs and not in my locker, she accused me of stealing.

I emptied the contents of my locker out, hurling three workshirts, a Friday T-shirt from 4 years ago, and two old vests in her direction.

I then. fucking. quit.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 20 comments