So, here I am popping my pit cherry with a pretty weak-ass rant on yet another work issue. Why don’t I quit, you ask? Because now I’m out for blood, is why.
You fucking cunt. When we hired you, I went out of my way to be nice to you. Hell, I knew if I didn’t watch out I’d be a bitch, because the guy who left was my friend and he wouldn’t have had to leave if the management hadn’t become so unbearably shitty. And I know it’s hard to come into a group of close-knit employees (some of whom may or may not knock boots on their free time, or have done so, or wish they could do so, etc, etc, etc.) So I tried to be nice. So I didn’t say anything about you in the beginning; the way you talk about all the women who walk in like they’re pieces of meat, the way you tell hideously inappropriate stories, the way you tell me dirty jokes that might not be inappropriate if you could tell a fucking joke to save your life. And I guess it’s my fault I didn’t say anything, but then again, I think unless it’s really serious and somebody would get fired for it, you should try to work it out amongst yourselves; after all, you gotta work with these people. And so when I told you to stop it and you laughed and told me to lighten up, I should have reported you then and there. But I didn’t. Because I was thinking, either you kill the thing or you leave it alone, no sense in making working with you even more painful.
And I didn’t say anything when you started taking things home pre-street, or when I had excellent reason to believe you were stealing. Hell, also my fault. But I couldn’t prove anything, and since J knew more about it than I and he didn’t come forward, I didn’t either. Also, I know how dumb this is, but I didn’t want J to feel I’d ratted his pseudofriend out. Stupid, stupid, stupid me. So I was wearing my asshat that day too.
But when you TRIED TO BUY POT IN THE STORE, when clocked in as my manager, when the store manager AND the district manager were there, and then TOLD ME ABOUT IT. That was it. That was the last straw. You cunt. You worthless little boil. Bad enough that you cheat on your common-law wife. Bad enough that when she was pregnant with your daughter she worked and you didn’t. Bad enough that you smoke pot around your very young child and do enough illegal drugs in front of her to kill a horse. You are low. You are common. But the kicker is that you’re a complete and utter fucking idiot, possessed only of sufficient low animal cunning to sniff out when your dealer is cheating you.
So I ratted you out. I called J, and told him I had had it, told him what had happened and asked if he would make a statement. I called the other females who worked with you, who I know you had likewise behaved inappropriately towards, and asked if they would make similar statements. We all agreed and came in the next day to spill our guts to R, the store manager. And we were told it would be “taken care of”.
Well, it has been. You, you suppurating little pustule, have “one more strike”.
My mind boggles.
Every single employee, managers and associates, who has worked with you at all came forward in some capacity to say you’re a scum-sucking bottom-feeder. You are still on new-hire probation. You have broken, as far as I can tell, more than half of the conduct rules in our employee handbook.
I was told, when I asked R what the hell he was smoking, that we had 'no evidence".
I suppose my own good word is insufficient? I suppose that when every female employee has a sexual harassment complaint that is also insufficient? I suppose management don’t care about the fact that everybody knows what a talking piece of shit you are, and that you should have been fired, but that you’re instead still my boss.
So what the fuck do I have to do to be fired? Evidently I can steal all I want as long as you don’t have hard evidence I did. I believe I’ll start patting everybody on the ass when I come in to work. I can’t wait until the next time our DM comes into town. “Hi, Don!” <pinch>
Does the company not give a shit about my personal safety? I mean, obviously you’re dumber than a sackful of hammers, but even you can probably, given time and enough fingers to count on, figure out who squealed on you. Does nobody care that I have to work with you? I’ve called R and told him I refuse to, and advised others to do the same. Is the company prepared for the lawsuit that will ensue if the tiniest finger is laid upon me? In fact, is the company prepared for the lawsuit I believe I’m justified to bring right now? I hate to threaten with lawyers; it feels very white trash, and I hate to sink to your level, you revolting little goat-fucker. But I want to see blood on the counter, baby.
I have HAD it with this shit. I have dealt with poor management here for MONTHS and sucked it up and dealt with it, more fool me. I was going to quit. But not now, oh no. Now you and the company have made a real enemy out of me. I’m not quitting now; instead, I’m going to make somebody’s life an administrative hell.
Oh, and please, try and fire me. I’ve always wanted to sue Best Buy. It looks like such fun, and it would be nice to see library school paid for. Garrrgh! I can’t even properly express the rage, frustration, and betrayal I feel here. Please, somebody suggest more appropriate things to snarl and scream. Fuck!