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Friday, May. 14, 2004 / 6:22 p.m. ~In Need of Reprieve~ Right at the end of the day there was a bit of a row at the time clock. A supervisor who never clocks with the peons took it upon herself to do so, and was startled to see us all lining up there, some waiting for it to be exactly 5:00, some rushing in at 4:58, 4:59, and when I waved one ahead, at 4:59, told her we were all waiting for the exact moment, the supervisor freaked out. Major bitching ensued, she was even asked, "Why you bein' like that?", "I'm not 'like that'", and I half expected fisticuffs to break out next. I had to tell her this is how it is, every single day. It went on, her opinion that we should sit in our little cubicles until 5:00, not stand and wait, but I had to interject, yes, I did, No, if we do that, we won't clock out 'til after 5:00, and we are not allowed to clock out after 5:00. Sooner or later, someone's got to come up with the bright fucking LOGICAL idea, er, come to the conclusion, that is, that we must be allowed a grace of at least 5 minutes total per week, over. Stop the Nazi Fascism and give us a fucking goddamned break. So it was I left angry. I was near tears, I was frustrated, I was so angry, and I was so frustrated, did I mention frustrated?, because it wasn't a bad week, I had great conversations with my 'new-ish' supervisor this week, and got a great monthly review, and a great weekly 'Hey, you are doing an outstanding job!', and things are okay, you know? I didn't need some PMS-y bitch to ruin it right at the end, by yelling at all of us standing in line, and saying, "I'm gonna talk to ____ [the manager] on Monday!", which is her M.O., quite frankly. Oh yeah, she's pulled this Friday last minute crap with me before, long ago. The, "Well I'll just talk to your manager on Monday!" thing. She's got a huge fucking stick up her ass and because she's in pain she wants everyone else to suffer. Alas. I left the job, trying to breathe deeply, trying to decompress, as I saw she'd cornered two 'witnesses' in the back parking lot. They appeared stricken, dumbfounded, like, "Holy fuck, I just want to go HOME already!", but I was saying to myself, Let it go, sister, just let it go... it's over, it's over, just move on, I have to go to the store, I have to, I have to. And so it was I went to the ATM to deposit a couple of paychecks, and a gentleman was walking to it ahead of me, and he seemed to sort of rush ahead, but then he grabbed a deposit envelope and said, "You go first, I need to write on an envelope", to which I naturally replied, "Thank you", and thought he was being logical, but nice too. Then I stood with the hot sun on my back and looked way into the screen trying to see what I was doing, and deposited my checks, and he came up behind me and started the chat. "Beautiful day, don't you think?", "Yes, it is", "You'd think they'd take into consideration the sun when they place these things in parking lots", "Yes, they should have thought of it, I just know what it says already", meaning I know what each screen is asking me to do, even if totally obscured by bright sun shining on it. And I got my cash back, and my receipt and I thanked him again for letting me go ahead, and he wished me a good weekend. And I thought, wow, see, humanity is not all bad, I don't hate the world, why do I let myself hate all of humanity every time some asshole is being an... asshole? Then, then, then, I go into the Stepford Grocery Store, the Publix, where every single person is happy and carefree, and employees say Hello and smile warmly, and instead of running me over with their carts, people say, "No, you go ahead", and I was instantly revived. I spent more than I would have otherwise, because it was just such a fucking nice experience, you know? And I thought of their ads on TV, and how they're true, they are! It is a great place to shop, and I do love it, and the woman ahead of me in line insisted on PAPER BAGS, and I said, "I applaud you on the paper bags!" and showed her my canvas bags, and said they have them at the end of the aisle, and she should buy some, they hold so much, but she seemed to think she'd need too many. It's a matter of choice. I make frequent trips, and I buy as much as will fit in my bags, and I have three now. I haven't gotten plastic bags in months. Best purchase, aside from my Pur water filter, which keeps me from buying bottled water and having to recycle all those jugs. Ahhhh, I feel better. I want to hole up. I want to lie on my sofa, watch TV, eat junky frozen foods (yes, Stouffer's dinners are high in sodium, but I happen to like sodium), and yes, kids, CHEDDAR POPCORN!, whoo hoo!, and not leave here until Monday morning. Which is what I typically do, but this time it's not an accident, it's what I really want to do. Honestly, there is no reason for me to leave. Drive around in my car using gas that costs way too much, or even walk in this neighborhood (are you kidding?), nah, no need. Plans could change. I thrive on changed plans. But for now? This is it. I need a reprieve. I need a sabbatical, Calgon, take me the fuck away! Cost of the War in Iraq
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