Weekly Log - 22 through 28

Monday Jun 22

I woke up at 6h30 AM, got to the train station by 8h45 and reported for work at 9 sharp this morning, as punctual as possible like they told me to be at the agency.

My future supervisor, however, did not report for work. After I told my story to three different people inside the store (that I came to promote a product, what the product does, who sent me, when was I supposed to be there and yes, I was sure this was the right place), they advised me to return around 2 PM and seek her out, adding that this is a fucked-up day (tell me something I don't know...) because all the big cheeses came down to the store to check on things. This is what we at the Most Serene Church call "Murphy influence by proxy": Murphy fucks up someone's day, and you get the short end of the stick because of that. But hey - I had lunch with the guys yesterday, I'm in a good mood, I left my number and decided to come back later. Come on, Monday - give me your worse!

So I went home and went back near 2 PM as advised. Apparently, the person in charge wouldn't be back until 5 PM. My out time is 6 PM. And I really can't afford going to and fro like this since I don't have a pass... not to mention that ARE YOU FUCKIN' KIDDING ME?! What is this, Pong with people?! At least call me telling there's nobody in, why the fuck did I leave my number? I did gather some information on who was who, where the cameras were, my evaluation process, the works. And then went home. Again.

As I left the train station, Mum called, saying she had borrowed Pops' car and wanted to go to the bank in Far the Fuck Away Baixa da Banheira. After a painful hour roaming around in circles looking for the place, we went in to talk to some account manager I never saw before and whom I didn't even know existed. He insulted my mother, myself, and said that we should take care of our life. Right. This guy would rather have me staving and have a positive money income on my account, than have me eating. Bank people are all alike, and I can understand the man has a hard time managing our shit because we're usually broke... also, FUCK HIM. Remember me typing, a few months back, I didn't wish for nobody to get in the same situation as me? I was wrong.

Tuesday Jun 23

I went to the work site again, in time again, and I turned my tail and went home again. Person in charge wasn't in. I have heard time and again about employers looking for their employees, but an employee looking for his boss is news to me. This crap is starting to annoy me. But I wasn't very willing to go back in the afternoon only to run into the door, so this time, I took the store number. I'll call, don't worry.

Turns out, they remembered to call me. Around lunchtime, my estranged supervisor finally called and told me to show up tomorrow at 1h30 PM and talk to her. It took me about nine months to get this gig. They just had to make me wait two more days, eh?

Wednesday Jun 24

Alright, so, this is the basics: I was supposed to work in a small market, promoting a cellphone service I am pretty damn sure nobody wants or needs. The agency knows as much, apparently, as the supervisor and myself. The project starts on the 7th of next month, instead of Monday as they told me last week. I asked the supervisor what she wanted me to do then, she said if I worked at the store they would pay me all the same, no problemo. I took it. I could use the extra week and a half pay.

I'll be at the info counter - making discount cards, remaking discount cards, keeping bags, handing bags back, wrapping stuff up, getting mail and bills, taking care of the phone, gathering shopping baskets and carts when needed, providing customer support as far as I can, running around looking for someone who can if I cannot, listening to complaints, handling the many, the proud and the stupid who are anal about a couple of cents more or less in their receipts. I will be wearing a shop t-shirt (fuck free advertising, at least I get paid) and, from what the super says, cursing between my teeth a lot.

Thursday Jun 25

So, my first full day. My impressions... I don't hate this job. The job is exactly that: a job. Someone's gotta do it, they're paying, it might as well be me. There are however 3 things I hate about it: standing up, some customers, and the boredom.

Standing up is the worse by far. It's eight bloody hours. By the third, my legs and feet are threatening to leave me for good. And I'm on sneakers, like Hell I'm bringing boots to this job. It's easier on the rest of the staff, because they are either always on the move, or take turns sitting down minding the cash register. I'm at the info counter, no chairs, eight hours, no breaks, yowza. They're severely understaffed, so they never allow me to go out for ten minutes and smoke a fag, for instance.

As for the customers... man, how come I can never get a job doing back office, and deal with one asshole boss instead of a gazillion assholes customers? Whenever the cashier forgot to discount a coupon (which happens, they're not mechanical, they get tired too), they bitch and yell like someone just stole their purse. Whenever merchandise gets damaged on home delivery, or didn't come in (also understandable, the delivery people make a lot of stops, they make one mistake in hundreds), in come the screeches at the phone. And if the customer misunderstands you for some reason (more than likely, since it's loud in the store and they don't really want to hear us to begin with), crow almighty, here come the decibels. I especially want to address the lady who made us run back and forth between central desk and info counter for fifteen minutes just so we could return her the 2 cents too many we accidentally took on her receipt. Get a life, lady. If it was something like 20, 50 cents, I'd understand. I doubt you'll starve for 3 bloody cents. And you know the best part? She left the store without getting them because it was taking too long.

The boredom... here's how I like work: it must feel like work. That's why I abhor call-centers: I feel like I'm loitering in front of a desk for eight hours, drawing doodles and repeating the same annoying bullshit. I don't mind if it's a sitting job, as long as I'm always busy. I like work with a 10-minute break for every 2 hours I do, so I have time to eat a few cookies or smoke. But when I'm working, I gotta be on the move. The less I do, the less I want to do, and if I'm just there, the hours don't go by as fast. Gotta keep busy. The problem with the info counter is, if you have no customers to help, no baskets to fetch and no magazines to sort through, you get to stand up in the same place like an idiot for fifteen minutes. It's tedious. And I don't like it.

Friday Jun 26

Last day of my first week. No supervisors in until 3 PM, well that was just peachy. I finally got most of the passwords and login information I needed to take care of the computer on my own. It was a pain in the rear, having to ask people to log on every time the computer crashed. And it crashes every half an hour. I never thought a machine could be more wimpy than Kid Bro's, but hey, live and learn.

Apart from an asshole who paid for his shopping with his discount card, went out, damaged the merchandise, waited ten minutes and came back in so we could refund him (got jack), nothing to say. It was a doable Friday. I tried to keep a little busier to make time go fast forward: organized the magazines, went upstairs and downstairs several times to fetch people to the phone, helped restock the batteries stand, cleaned up some shelves, mopped the inside of the info counter, fetched baskets and carts every half hour, the works.

In the evening, I hit the bars with some of the guys. Played cards, drank and walked my way home (after a fit of never ending laughter, three falls and a fit of never ending hiccups - which is actually a natural reaction to the laughter). Finally: let the weekend roll in.

Weekend Jun 27 - 28

I've discovered something interesting while browsing for signs of Murphy (a.k.a. omens of ill luck) on the Internet. We are currently using the Gregorian calendar, which, as well you know, adds a day to that handicap of a month formally known as February every four years. This isn't news. But did you guys know that this process (plus the whole 30-31 day discrepancy between months) causes Fridays the 13th to happen more frequently during a given year? At best once, but likely three times every year!

Murphy needs no bloody help, people! We don't need to give him extra days for all Hell to break loose! Of course since we in the West are mainly Christian (for a period of time, we called ourselves the Christianity and all), and I have been one to stay the crow away from most official, organized churches for years, I would very much like to quit this aberration of a calendar. Only I can't. I show up for work saying it's the eighth day of Thermidor and they lock me up in the funny farm. Still, I would like to make a simple proposition for a new calendar, called Calendar According to Murphy, which might minimize the damage. Here it is.

Every week has seven days, every day has 24 hours. That's been working fairly well and we might as well keep it. A year has 360 days (what's five or six days? Quit being a wussie) divided equally by 12 months so that every month has exactly 30 days. Whenever a Friday the 13th does happen, it's a holiday. It's a day when everyone is required to stay home and try to minimize the influence of Murphy. Oh, and let's stop kidding ourselves: instead of Monday, let's call the first day of the week Shitday. You know it is and so do I.

Downloads for the week include Anthony Hopkins' Titus (1999), the 2000 comedy sitcom Titus (no relation whatsoever, I just happen to like both) and a huge bunch of Corvus Corax albums. Because medieval folk music actually sounds pretty damn good when they do it.