It's been darned near a year since I last posted. Give or take eight days.
And do you know what has driven me back into the waiting arms of my blog?
I do.
The Blonde Bombshell. Yes. That is what I shall call her. BB. I almost want it to be TB. It would be fitting, for her.
I stopped working at the country club I claimed I loved a couple posts back. Yeah. Not fun anymore.
Got a job at a campground instead! Now I'm an interchangeable fixture. Like...that ottoman that is just the right shade of blah that it goes with anything that you keep in your living room. Or that mug that you can pull off just about anywhere, be it using it to imbibe alcohol in the cubicle or coffee over the breakfast table. Or just a person who has a general skill set and is somewhat proficient with computers and can be stuck anywhere and transplant well enough without going septic.
Here is a summation of my day with BB. Very commonplace.
I came in. She was pissy.
Sat down, and she walks around a bit. She comes in, asks me about backup. Proceeds to get snippish about the
procedures. My bad. I thought /Super H/ had said it was okay. Sorry, BB, I guess your knowledge supercedes that of
our superior who has been here for four years.
So she leaves. Goes out on the resort. Plays security guard when she's supposed to be cleaning shit. HSG herself is playing
the game, and they are enjoying radio tag.
I stay in the office, sweep, change the trash, file things. Took in money, did the storage log, finished the deeds I had started
yesterday.
She comes back around 11:30. I have a customer. She starts slamming doors. I was working on the storage log, almost finished. Just needed to clear her desk off.
She props herself on the doorjamb, crosses her arms, and stares.
I don't look at her as I write out my customer's receipt, put him into the system, and then save everything and close out.
To look nervous, to glance at her, means that she's won.
I finally look over at her, cheerfully ask: What's up?
"I was /trying/ to do some paperwork," she growls.
I grab my flashdrive. She yells at me.
Says: "If you use my computer, don't put that thing in there. Every time you do, I can't get stuff to open right until I reboot!"
Lol, BB.
My flashdrive is the root of all your problems.
Sorry, dear. I believe that one is User Error. Because running portable applications from a flashdrive would NOT effect your processes.
More lols.
So I go back to my side of the office, feeling upset and wanting to cry. I don't understand. But I repeat to myself:
Don't get upset . Don't get upset. She's a bint. A trollop. A toerag. She's so loose she stopped bothering to wear underwear and pants that button up.
12 o'clock she closes her window and shuts her blinds after printing stuff out for half an hour and generally sounding grumpy.
Don't know what she expects me to do.
She sits there and calls HSG about compliance. When Boss Man SPECIFICALLY SAID YESTERDAY that HSG and himself are the only ones to
discuss compliance.
Hmm. She listens well.
*She left at 2:30. She never opened her window after 12. What the hell.*
Who knows. I'll send this to Super H later.
I just need documentation, you see.
-sigh- Perhaps I'm just a tad bit sensitive. I don't know. What I do know is that the kind of behavior exhibited at my job wouldn't fly in the real world.
I don't know where BB gets off thinking she's God's gift to campgrounds, but she isn't.
I think I'll go back to reading fanfiction and eating my awesome orange cupcakes.
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