crash landing, crashdlanding, faith, family, hope, non-fiction, pixie dust, retail, retailiations, work
I have to work tomorrow (technically today since it’s one in the morning). That’s not news, I work every day of the week but Monday and Wednesday. But I don’t want too.
Tuesday, the last day I worked, was a big pile of stinking festering garbage. I was short handed and the people who were supposed to be the closing team called in and left us hanging. I had to ask two of my people to stay late—they graciously agreed and I’m forever in their debt—and I told my managers I would stay late.
I’m not gonna complain once my pay check rolls in and I have overtime on it—OT WHUD UP—practically buy me a new car with that.
Anyway, after six I had three people on the front end, three breaks to cover (including my own) and a million things to get done. Honestly it’s not that hard it’s just complicated and you have to not mess something up.
Messing with the money of a major corporation is a daunting task. That makes me sound more important that what I really am. But that’s what I do. Essentially.
But as always we made it work and we are a good team. A teeny tiny little team but a good one. Those are reliable people and my faith in them has grown even brighter than it was before that night.
Because two people called in (more in the place called in, but two in one area is like a tornado going through a trailer park: devastation). And honestly it was two people I was looking forward to working with. Two people I enjoyed working with and it made me feel like they were abandoning me, and not just our front end and store.
I know that’s not the case. At least I’m pretty sure because they did not communicate with me. I wish they had. One of if them called in I was disappointed. But then I learned they both called in…
Let’s just say the stress of the last several months, and basically year, have really weighed down on me and I might have gotten emotional. I hid it well, at least the angry crying part, and managed to put my sore and damaged feet down (gently) and say, mostly to myself “screw this figurative ‘schtuff’, I deserve more.”
Management had been scheduling me full time and boarder line full time hours for ages, and more so during the Pandemic (crapdangit more like), and I worked it all—except for my two week leave—without fail. I might not have been as good at it as others in certain people’s eyes, but I did it.
So I resolved to ask my manager, first personnel then store manger, for full time.
In the eleven years I’ve been working at (REDACTED) I’ve always been part-time. I’ve worked full time hours on many occasions. More so since getting my current position and let me tell you this has been a rocky road. I’d rather have the ice cream. But I’d been asked about it before and I said that I didn’t want more hours away from my child and family and on my feet.
But since I’m getting that any way and I have been there, doing the job as best as I could, I thought I deserved it. Not the hours, I already have those. I’m talking PERKS!
I had the conversation with my manager and I came out of it, with a “I can’t make any promises” but also with confidence that he actually felt I deserved for the possibility to be looked into.
I’m not getting my hopes up, even if I think I’ve been seen as a worthy person, by at least one other human. Whether no one else does.
But I will also be keeping my options open.
And I’ve learned a lot lately.
1. Open your mouth for what you want or risk never getting it. 2. Faith and hope in another human being is about as valuable as a water logged wooden nickel (IT TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG TO SPELL NICKEL RIGHT). 3. I can make anything work. No matter how putrid the flaming dumpster fire I’m given.
Thanks for reading