Happier Holidays

A few days after the big sit down, I spoke with Alice, the manager at the new branch I am looking to work for. She also told me that Jean had a mouthful to say about me when Alice called to discuss the transfer. What Jean didn't know is that Alice knows me for almost a dozen years, and that Alice further knows that Jean is a vindictive and spiteful bitch.

Now, apparently, after the big sit down, Caroline had a bit of an impromptu meeting with Jean, basically telling her to shut the fuck up and be nice. She apparently had a similar meeting with Latoya. Since that day, both have been sweet as pie with me. It has been refreshing. I kept wondering when the other shoe was gonna drop.

Two weeks ago, evidently. Caroline came to me while I was in the break room as I was getting ready to leave for lunch and asked me how I was. She asked how things have been lately, if Latoya was treating me any better. I said yes, she and Jean had been much more professional. I expressed my gratitude to her for making it happen. Then she said it wasn't too late, that I could stay if I wanted.

I may have peed a little.

Not there, on the spot, mind you. On the spot, I simply smiled and said "thanks anyway, but after all that Jean had to say about me, I don't feel comfortable working here any more." No, it was after I had gotten out to my Jeep and driven around the corner. It was as I burst into gales of uproarious, bellowing, side-splitting laughter that I may have squirted a tiny bit.

They didn't even tell me my transfer went through. I had to call Alice on the 12th and find out what my first day at her branch would be. December 31. They kept me for an extra two weeks, because they needed me so badly. If I sucked as bad as an employee as Jean suggested, you'd think she'd have wanted me gone as soon as possible.

FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM IN THE ASS WITH A BIG RUBBER DICK.

I'm out of there. In a week, I'll be in greener grasses. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Sitcom Cancelled?

That's right, folks... as of December 31, I am no longer employed by the Riverhead Branch of Southern Star Bank. I have landed another job at the Blue Point Branch. So I am finally escaping the shanty town that Riverhead has become for some more elegant surroundings.

The Big Sit Down

So, faced with the prospect of being cleared to work full time again and having to spend those 8 hours a day at the Riverhead branch of Southern Star Bank, I was thinking another car accident might be better.

Begging Rodney's pardon, but I get no respect from anyone there. I hate working with Latoya. She is a moron who has stumbled into a position of power and abuses whatever perceived superiority she can at any given moment. Everything I do is questioned, I am constantly being bombarded with work seconds before I leave the building, and when I called out sick one day recently because of problems with my back (which is a documented condition) I was told by Jean that "it is getting very difficult to keep you on the schedule." I have called out four times in total, twice because of back problems, once from a migraine, and once because my brakes failed on the way to work and I had to try and get them fixed rather than careening into walls as my method of stopping. I was told that that is not a good track record. (Even though we get about 20 sick days a year, my using 4 in a 6 month span is deemed unprofessional. Go figure.) Those two times I called out sick for my back were because they abused my schedule and made me work more than the time I was supposed to work.

My friend's sister, who works in the industry, has told me that it's not like this at other branches, and that my management staff is being incredibly unprofessional in allowing things to get as bad as they have. I called a meeting with my management team. I sat with them in the break room and told them the following: (summarized for brevity)

"My doctor has cleared me to work full time. However, I have no intention of working here full time, and here's why. I hate it here. Latoya treats me like shit constantly you both seem to have completely disregarded my doctor's instructions about how long I could work, and when I have called in sick I've been given immeasurable grief. I'm here to tell you that I'm requesting a transfer, and if you don't give me one, I'll quit and apply for another job from the outside."

Caroline asked me to explain why I was so miserable here, and I gave her a laundry list of offenses that Latoya had perpetrated against me, arbitrary conditions, standards and restrictions that were being placed on my work that no other teller was forced to live up to or abide by, and general issues that had plagued me.

Jean said "well, you shouldn't have waited to let it all build up, you should have come to me and told me so I could do something about it."

I respectfully submitted that the abuse was obvious to anyone who was not intentionally blind to it, as every one of the other tellers and bankers had mentioned on occasion that I was not being treated fairly. I also posited that Jean should have done something long ago about Latoya's poor treatment of people without having to have been told.

With this, Jean proceeded to unveil a list of problems that she had with me as an employee; the speed at which I worked (attributed by me to my being methodical and cautious in my approach while handling other people's money), the fact that I called in sick four times (to which I replied that I had missed fewer days that year than her), and the fact that I was not very cheerful to her (to which I laughed, and asked how anyone being heaped with abuse can be expected to be cheery). I wrapped up by cramming her own words right back into her slobbering gob; "Gee, Jean, you shouldn't have waited to let it all build up, you should have come to me and told me so I could do something about it."

For the record, she didn't care for that.

So, that's the lay of the land. Caroline has said she will attempt to make a transfer happen, to which I replied that I already had a branch in mind that currently had an opening. We shall see how fast it happens.

Hallelujah!

After months and months of grueling physical therapy, thousands of accupuncture needles, countless heating pads and hundreds of miles driven to doctors appointments, I have found relief!

Dr. Priolo's colleague, Dr. Colladner, gave me what's called a facet block. Basically, lidocane and steroids were mixed in a syringe and injected directly into the muscle group that has been giving me such problems. She tells me it might not fix the problem completely, but that there is also a chance it might. All I know is I feel pain free for the first time in 11 months! I can stand! I can run! I can pick things up! I can go back to work full time!

Wait.

I can go back to work full time.

SHIT.

Looks like I have to do something about my current job. I don't know if I can take those idiots for 8 hours a day.

Profiles In Stupidity: Stan

If brains were gunpowder, Stan couldn’t blow a gay sailor at Mardi-Gras. He’s addicted to video games, and red bull, and probably coke, and very likely date rape, and he’s one of those guys who will be an active member of his fraternity until the day he dies. He’s Joey from friends with acne.

He says he’s going to be an auditor, or an accountant, or something similar. Every other word out of his mouth is dude. He is a mouth breathing troglodyte, and God help the person or business who relies on him to make sure that they are doing their finances the right way. He probably thinks he can succeed based on his ability to construct a kick ass metropolis on SimCity, or something equally arbitrary.

Profiles In Stupidity: Latoya

Takes no guff, wastes no words, has no brains. Wears a big gold tooth and shifty, beady eyes. Routinely takes time during her busy work day to put gas in her car or do some grocery shopping. Not on her appointed break time, mind you. Oh, no, why should she use her own time to run her personal errands when management allows her to leave whenever it’s convenient for her to do it?

Latoya has been serving as the acting head teller since our real head teller decided she couldn’t take it here any more. Not that they would actually make her head teller; she’s far to brash and rude (a.k.a. a Bitch) She wields her purloined station like the leader of the Kodan Armada with his pointy little scepter (so I’m a movie buff, sue me). She is our head tyrant, not our head teller.

Sample:

Me: Latoya, can I please get some tens?

Latoya: You don’t need no tens.

Me (perplexed): Latoya, my last client needed a hundred and sixty dollars worth, and I only have three tens left.

Latoya (nastier): You don’t need no tens.

Me (dumbfounded): O.K., then.

(Two clients later)

Client: Yes, I’d like this cashed out, and can I get fifty dollars of that in tens?

Me: I’m sorry, I don’t have any tens left.

Jean (rising from her desk like a shrouded, shrieking ghoul): What do you mean, you’re out of tens?!? How could you run out of a denomination?!?

Me (pointing at Latoya): Talk to Latoya. She wouldn’t give them to me when I needed them.

Latoya (with a nasty, death-wishing look in her eyes): Mutter, grumble, mutter…

There are four words to describe Latoya: Gash, Fucking, Stupid and Nasty. I’ll let you arrange them in any order you wish.

Profiles In Stupidity: Tracy

I've long hated when people interrupt you in mid sentence. It's just downright rude, and because I don't do it, more and more I find myself not contributing to conversations.

Well, today I met someone with Sudden Interruption Syndrome. One of the new girls at work, Tracy. I was in mid sentence, talking about the training program for the bank, when she launched into her statement on the subject. I stopped speaking and paid her her due attention. A few seconds later, she interrupted my next words with some of her own, and once again, I stopped speaking, listening to her. But the third time, I made a split second decision; I would continue to speak and see how long she would go on.

LITERALLY nine seconds went by with the both of us speaking at the same time, AND SHE DIDN'T GET THE HINT. Do you know how hard it is to continue speaking for nine seconds when someone is interrupting you mid sentence? I eventually had to give up, and finally, I just stopped trying to speak to her.

The Woman Who "Bleed" Herself

I'm sitting at my teller station when a blonde woman steps up to the counter. She looks a little loopy, clumsy, but I attribute that to the fact that half of the clients at my station are usually mentally unstable (as well as half of my co-workers).

So this woman asks me to process her deposit, which I begin. Being that there were quite a few checks in the deposit, it was taking a little longer than usual. This woman looks up at me suddenly, and says “Oh, my God, I’m bleeding.”

“My goodness,” I reply, “are you O.K.?”

She turns and begins to run out of the branch.

“Should I call an ambulance?” I call after her, to which I hear a faint negative reply as the door shuts.

When my manager gets up to find out what happened, she looks down at the floor in front of my station and a look of revulsion crosses her features. “Is that pee?” she says, and my day exits the Normal Highway and takes a detour into Disgusting Town.

I guess she didn’t say “bleeding” after all. Either that, or she was so horrified over the concept that she was pissing herself in public that she would rather have everyone think she was suffering from a hemorrhage of some sort. The other tellers said she was reeking of booze, but I couldn't smell it. That's not the only reason I'm glad I have a cold!

S.O.S. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday

So I have been pushed to the main teller line by the fact that one of our tellers has departed for good. It’s annoying, because I’m still the main operator of the drive up station, which is at the other end of the teller line, primarily because the other tellers I work with are lazy ass shits. They will act as if the tube has not just crashed to Earth behind them. Even if all four of us are helping clients, no one else will make a move to help the drive up client after they finish, even if they finish before me. There are a few random exceptions, most notably if there is a more undesirable client next in line in the lobby.

Jean is no help. She is like someone’s crazy old grandmother, hitting people with shoes and cackling madly at jokes that only she gets (like randomly quoting Joss Ackland from Lethal Weapon 2 out of context; "Diplomatic Immunity. Ha ha ha ha ha.")

And Caroline? I look at her every once in while, sitting behind her desk. She looks as if she opened her eyes and suddenly discovered she was in someone else’s place of business with no idea of how she got there. Literally. She’s looking around, her eyes narrowed, scanning the place as if trying to recognize her own branch.

I am starting to feel like I crash landed on the planet Idiot.

I am officially requesting rescue.

We Don't Take Kindly To Your Kind Here, Ma'am

The lobby is bustling today, with a line stretching to the door. We are down a teller. The ones we have are not really doing a great job dealing with the stress. I see a woman walk into the lobby, look at the line, and then walk back out. A few seconds later, at the drive up camera, I see the same woman walk up to the tube and put a transaction in. The tube crashes down into the receptacle behind us, and every client in the lobby suddenly realizes that this woman is trying to circumvent them.

In layman’s terms, she’s a dirty little line cutter.

One of the young tellers begins to get out of her chair, saying something about the woman’s ridiculous attempt to butt ahead of people.

“Leave it,” I say, “I’ll handle this.”

I let the woman wait a few moments. The teller call alert sounds out. Her highness is beckoning.

“Yes?” I say pleasantly into the microphone.

“I’m on lunch,” the woman says.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we generally do not accept walk ups to the drive up lane. It’s a safety issue. I will make an exception this time, but you’ll need to be patient while we help the customers at our stations.”

“I’m on lunch,” she repeated nastily.

“I understand that,” I replied calmly. “We’re very busy at the moment.”

“I’m in a rush!” she said, screeching like a Skexie from the Dark Crystal.

“I gather that,” I replied, “but so is everyone else in the branch, and their time is just as valuable as yours, so you’ll need to wait your turn.”

The next client I helped shook my hand. : )

I hope she wasn’t as important as she thought she was, or I’m gonna be out of a job.

Teller I'll Be Back

I have once again found gainful employment within Southern Star Bank, this time at the Riverhead branch. My new manager, Caroline, and my new assistant manager, Jean (who did most of the interviewing), have made me feel very welcome. I am only working 11–3 every day, which is weird, but until my back is 100%, my doctor won’t clear me to work full time. Which is okay, I could use some time to get back to 100% speed before I am thrown into closing again. I am located at the drive up station, which benefits me because it is a low chair and allows me to sit with my feet firmly on the floor. I am occasionally thrust into a more prominent station when another teller is out sick, but so far, things are going OK.

At Least I Never Did Drugs After Starring In Less Than Zero

I have at last been cleared to work. It’s only part time until my back is completely better, but at least I can get back into the rhythm of working again. I went into the Manorville branch and used one of the computers to apply for open positions, and happened to notice that there was a teller opening right there in my old branch. My manager did not say anything to me about it, however.

I felt really awkward and uncomfortable being there after that. If they hadn’t filled my old position, why wouldn’t the manager have let me know there was still an opening unless there was some sort of issue? Now I wonder if there were other issues that I would have faced had this accident not happened. Did Diana have an issue with me that made her not want me back?

I feel bad because Diana never got to see me at my best. Between my father dying, my illness, and the almost nervous breakdown due to insomnia and stress, I’ve been a train wreck since before she got here. Now you add in the factor of this car accident, and I’m like Robert Downey Jr.; damaged goods. No wonder she’s just gonna let me slip away. She doesn’t know that when I am 100%, I’m worth keeping.

Disabili-teed Off

Physical Therapy has begun in earnest. I am rehabbing my back with electro-stim, massage, heat, ultra-sound, acupuncture, and a barrage of strength and conditioning exercises that make me feel like I’m in boot camp. I can feel the rest of my body getting stronger, but my back still hurts a lot. I hope that whatever branch I end up in allows me to sit down while I am doing my job.

The Case Of The Injured Teller

My therapy has progressed slower than originally planned, and it doesn’t look like I am going to make the one month window that my doctors originally set for me. Thus far, it’s been heat, massage, elecrto-stim, and light exercise. Dr. Priolo, my physical therapist, wants me to try acupuncture. I told him I would let midgets light me on fire if it will take the pain out of my back for good. He has said we can’t rush things, but I feel weird not having a job right now. I’m glad I still have some cash from my father’s estate, or I’d be broke right now. I’ve been back to the bank a couple of times, and the people there have been great. They haven’t replaced me yet, so maybe I will actually have a job waiting for me when I am able to come back. Hopefully they’ll be patient with me as I relearn the job.

The only good thing about my situation is that I have been able to visit my father’s grave every week. I still miss him terribly. He asked me each and every time how I was doing at the bank. I’d always tell him things were great, because… well, they were great, up until he died.

At this point Netflix hates me, because I’m watching two movies a day. They must be losing a fortune on me. What else is there to do when standing for more than five to ten minutes causes excruciating pain?

Unhappy New Year To Me...

Because of my accident, I was taken to the hospital complaining of chest and back pain. My sternum was bruised, and that has healed nicely. My back, however, is another saga. Now I am out of work, and in pain. Even the slightest motion of my back causes some pain, and it looks like I'll be sidelined for a month at least in therapy, according to my doctor. I start Friday. My poor car, I found out the next day, is dead. The airbags deployed, which would cost me more than I paid for the car to get replaced, not to mention the hood is mashed into the engine, the lights are toast, the grill is gone, and the fenders are smashed in.

What's worse? As I have not been on the job for a full year yet, they cannot hold my position for me whilst I am out on disability. I have to go tomorrow and turn in my keys. If they hire someone else before I get back, my tenure at the Manorville branch of Southern Star Bank is officially over.