.::Cursed::.

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Sunday, Oct. 12, 2002 @ 4:33 A.M.

Counting is too hard! ::Whine::

Why is it that people have to be so jerky? I ask, because I know lately I have been, especially at work. The thing is, I find myself being pretty snippy, even in church. For example, I yelled at Nate (the youngest kid in my youth group at church) on Wednesday night. Now it wasn't the first time, but this time was very mean-toned and unlike me. It's not like he'll change his ways just 'cuz I yelled at him, but it made me feel embarrassed that he could make such a reaction rise up within me. I usually let everything roll off my back like so much water. I'm sure it's because of the stressful environment at work. I have to grit my teeth every time THAT WOMAN talks to me. Gaaaaaah! She's absolutely spineless. She won't program new alarm codes simply because she "doesn't get it". I swear, every single time there's a new thing... The instructions are in your hand lady. And I told you exactly what sequence of numbers to put in short of pressing them for you. Shall I hold your hand through your next potty training session as well? Aaaaaaargh!! You aggravating woman, you frustrate me so...

Geoff, now Geoff... he's another story all together. He actually pissed me off so much yesterday, that I said something I have never uttered out loud.

"I quit."

Mind you, it's not like I haven't ever thought of it before. I let the words simmer beneath the surface and then I think of the money that wouldn't be rolling in... not a happy thought especially since I have rent and other lovely bills to pay. And honestly, before Des' spastic managing style finally got to me, work was cake. But Geoff just pushed the late thing too far. I was already feeling bad about being late. The construction people on the roof were gone at 3:30PM. I went and gather my stuff and threw them into my car, went back into the apartment to make sure nothing was left on (can't waste precious electricity since I pay for it now!) and they had pulled their bin back up in front of my door. 3:40PM. Bastards! I actually yelled at them. How the Hell was I supposed to get my car out now? Why didn't they wait a couple more minutes? I thought they were gone!!! What the freakin', frackin' Hell?!!! And they laughed at my predicament. Men are slimy worthless scum. I almost scraped up the side of my car on that damn bin, then I had to illegally back my car down a narrow alley, nearly hitting the other cars parked, and turn around. One of the guys on the roof looked down on my maneuvers and shook his head then mouthed, "You're not going to make it." Bastard... I inched slowly backwards... I hate driving backwards!... and almost hit the bins at the end of the alley. I crept forward to turn my car around... I backed slowly... turned my wheels... crept forward... backwards... and finally sped forwards out of that alley. My slightly neurotic fear of enclosed spaces was really affecting me. It was now 4:00PM. On top of that, I had to get gas. My car consumes more gas than is deemed necessary. I have to get gas every two days. This is clearly wrong on many levels. Anyways, by the time I was done with that, it was 4:15PM. And the peak of traffic time. Lovely. I call Jen to see if she possibly has another ride. She doesn't. I call Geoff to tell him we'll be late. He has no heart and I don't bother him with details and after I'm done with this call, I'm seething. Now, seething in anger while driving in traffic is not a good thing. It makes one do stupid things and miss important merging rules. Like, for instance, looking to make sure no one is at your side while you do it. I hate merging. I go and pick up Jen and head back towards the theatre. I get the mail. I walk by the box office and he says something about being late and I just growled. When I walked in the doors, I just said it. I wonder if Randy heard me.

Not that I'm going to do it any time soon. I can't. I have too many responsibilities. Also, we have a pool going to see how long Des will last. I've just been very tense lately, as Jonah kindly pointed out after I was moving stock around and hauling soda boxes to their proper stacks. Those things are so freakin' heavy! Why didn't someone put them away before I had to count them? And now my muscles scream in protest every time I use them for anything. My right forearm feels like it's on fire when I pull and my back is achy... which always happens since I have a bad back. One day, I'll throw it out and become completely useless as a person.

Then, yesterday, Geoff decides to pull a Desiree and leave in the middle of his shift. I don't know what made him do that, but his reasons don't justify the fact that he did it. Apparently, he threw a hissy-fit when Moises didn't close out his box. Or something. I don't know. Maybe he's not getting any. The crappy thing is... we were at work until 3:00AM. The safe was off, the numbers at the end of the night were off, anything that had anything to do with money was off. HE was in charge of the safe. HE was in charge of closing box. HE just left and I had to figure it all out despite the fact that I was the booth manager. Oh, and I had a brainwrap. I was pretty leisurely about it, really. I just fixed it, cutting out about three feet of film, but the peoples didn't complain. Which is good, especially since I rewinded the film for them.

Right now, I hate men in general and I hate work in general. For particulars, you'll have to read between the lines, but it should be hard since I practically spell it out for you. Or is your brain only capable of processing Desiree-like thoughts? ::Snarl::

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