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.