What’s the difference between a roach and a human?
Ans: Nothing.
Working at Walmart is killing any shred of “good will to all men” I might have had.
It’s clear, without a shadow of a doubt, the quality of customer that shops at an average Walmart is less than human especially during a potential (now a category 1…way in Florida). Barely a tropical storm when it reaches us. So, what do they do? Become this scavenger horde, buying everything off the shelves and demanding why there isn’t anything.
Because your fellow Walmart shoppers at idiots.
Then you have plenty of fools gathering full shopping carts of things and leaving them. Go back a journal entry and, I promise you, that meat, milk and other perishable products you left there for hours will be waiting for your roach-ass when you get back: front row center.
I also remember saying I wouldn’t complain about Walmart.
The situation is, my collegiate efforts are untroubled. Still nursing a 4.0 GPA….surprisingly. Attendance is perfect. I’m early with assignments.
So, with ‘work’, my efforts to climb the ladder are stalled by common Southern slowness. I don’t remember, in New York, any process to advance being so fucking slow. They have empty slots for department managers and support managers, they’ll eventually get around to interviewing people for these positions but they are still unfilled.
What happens will be, if you eventually get the position(s), you have weeks of work undone. Oh, and don’t forget, there is no overtime allowed. Fuckers.
It used to be, my educational efforts would be drowning, but my labor efforts were sound. The reverse is refreshing, allowing me to have a better perspective: I’m at Walmart for the cash and the cash only.
Still, getting the cash is like begging a bitch for some ass. Slow and round and round to get to an eventual inevitable end that we all know I’m going to get.
You would think that perspective would calm me; stopping being so angry at people around me. If you would just immerse yourself in the world that I see: fat, annoying people always ALWAYS with a phone attached to their ears. Always talking ‘at’ me, expecting me to think they are talking ‘to’ me. Roaches that drop food in t e wrong places and thieves.
The best part of my day is watching these idiots come into the store, eating the grapes and cherries. Grazing they call it. Since I’ve seen little kids with their snot noses, people sneezing and coughing reaching into the bags. Dropping the grapes on the floor and putting them back in the back — it’s been great watching these fuckers likely get Salmonella, E. coli (Escherichia coli). …Listeria. …Campylobacter. …Staphylococcus aureus. …Shigella. …Hepatitis A or
Noroviruses. Warning them, as I have, doesn’t help. They always say the same thing: I need to know if it’s sweet.
By tasting ONE grape, they are actually getting any of the above viruses. The only thing sweet happening is personal satisfaction for me that they’ll get sick. Especially the old folks. They don’t listen for shit.
Sigh. I need a day off.
myJournal 