fuck this job.com

Ok...what the hell were you thinking when you clicked on this entry, you little perv?!

Long and hard refers to my thinking process. I spent a good deal of today really deep in thought.

I've been weighing the pros and cons of handing in my two weeks notice on Monday. I have plenty of reasons to do it.

1. No matter what you do, you should have done it better. Finish the route at 7:00, you should have finished at 6:00. Finish at 6:00, you should have finished at 5:00. Finish at 5:00...and go take some stops off of one of the other messengers, which will, of course, force you to get stuck in traffic, resulting in a 7:00 return with the messenger you helped clocked out and home an hour before you make it back.
2. A biggie in my book. In January, we're picking up 50 to 70 new contracts. The branch is doubling in size. But only in work load size. With these new contracts, we'll be awarded two new trucks and teams. Which will raise our fleet to a whopping five trucks and teams. The old place had seven, and a lot less stops. This means our work load will double, our return times will be later still, and we'll be made to go in earlier (and keep in mind I already average about 400 to 500 miles a day of travel for my stops...which will also grow). Since I get up at 5:30 for work already, and they're talking about having us in there at 5:00 (remember, none of the stores open until 8:00, either), I'd be getting up at 4:00 in the morning. After probably not getting home from work the day before until 9:00 at night. Plus, we won't have two consecutive days off...we'll be lucky to have two days off a week at all. Remember, most of us have already gone 14 days straight with no days off. Then they wonder why drivers fall asleep and trucks fall over. Oh, wait, no they don't wonder...they just fire the guy because he should have gotten more sleep. *rolls eyes*
3. I've been pulling crew lead duties for the past month. Not once have I been slotted as a driver. And I'm not past my 180 days, so I'm not being paid for my work as a crew lead. By the time I get the ok and the pay, I'll be a crew lead once or twice a week. And only on days you are crew lead do you make the pay. Oh! If I get on a truck with another armed person, they could drive all day while I do the work, but the branch could label them crew lead. So I'd do all the work while the driver got the cash.
4. Somehow, as "crew lead," I am personally responsible for traffic jams, crashes, slow customers, bad weather, drivers who don't know the routes, etc.
5. I had something like 30 stops today, and in half those stores I didn't even get so much as a hello. I had a hand thrust out for a key, and the only words said to me were nasty ones.
6. About half of my co-workers, especially "Grumpy," are raging pricks.
7. Since I've been here, I've been sexually harrassed by three co-workers, I've gotten in to a near fist fight with one, I've had three co-workers make comments about my weight, I've caught two talking shit behind my back... At the old place, this shit didn't happen. I got in to a fight with someone once...about a month or two before I left. And the morale was so low there it was amazing we weren't strangling each other to death.

The Cons:

1. I have a car payment due every month
2. I have a credit card payment due every month
3. I'm trying to save up to move out of my house and in to my own place

I think I have enough cash to get by for a month or two without my parents helping on my car payments (I can scrap moving out any time soon, though). My mom keeps saying she wants to help, but it's my car, and I want it to be fully my car. So all payments will be made by me, come hell or high water.

I have to admit, this is all really ashame. This place was my Utopia, my saving grace from the shithole I was in. I wanted this slot so bad I could taste it, and I was ecstatic when I got it. But it very quickly proved to be a shithole of different color. It's different from the last place, and better in ways. But it's still a shithole no matter how you look at it, just slap a blue shirt on it.

Thursday I will hit the local tech college to see what they offer for EMT. I know the cops and all that wonderful crap go to academy there, so I figure it doesn't hurt to see if the EMTs do, too. I don't know how the hell to get started in this EMT thing, but I am really not willing to give up at this point. If nothing else, I'll be dropping by the local fire station on Thursday. All the fire trucks and ambulances are in there, so someone can at least point me in the right direction, I'd hope.

It just bothers me a little bit. I tried so hard to get this slot, and now I'm trying so hard to get out. And it hasn't been that long a time since I started. In my raging thoughts, half my brain was trying to talk me in to staying just a little bit longer while the other half was writing the quit statement. Is was a brain battle royal.

"Quit now and you leave them with three guns."
"E is about to get permission to carry. It'll be right back up to four in no time."
"Yeah, but E has a lot of medical problems and will be uber slow, so he'll get tormented like you did."
"But he'll be useful none the less."
"They probably won't run him often, which will leave three of the guys running like mad."
"Oh, boo hoo, the supervisor has to get on a truck. He's on a truck all the time anyway!"
"But the company would run smoother if he stayed back to handle all that work, and maybe he'd be able to bitch slap some of these customers finally."
"WHO THE FUCK CARES?! IT WON'T EFFECT YOU IF YOU'RE GONE!"
"Yeah, but those guys..."
"...are fucking pricks who would throw you to the wolves and shit on you as fast as look at you. You can't trust them with your life, let alone your sanity, and they don't care about you one fuckin' lick. They expect you to help them out on their routes, but never return the favor, or do but scream and bitch about it the entire way. And there's K who's famous for sticking keys on other people's boards, then calling half way into the day to say, 'Oh I think it's on your board, it's missing from mine, you'll have to get it.' Fuck that!"

That was my brain on armor.

And then little things show.

Like the huge bruise right across the face of my wolf tattoo, which, btw, happens to be my favorite tattoo. Or the slash in my celtic tattoo, which is brand fuckin' new.

I see the image of the manager lady in one store with the scary hair. She's a bitch.

I see the restuarant I have to pick up, that I can not possibly get to when they want us there, and she spends 20 minutes personally insulting me because of such.

I see myself running in to Dr. Chadwick from college. This is a big one that materializes all the time. It's never happened, and probably never will. But this is one of those teachers who grabs you in school and says, "HEY! You have a talent! Use it! You're better than this!" But I see me running in to him, and his first question is what I'm doing now that I'm out of school. And the disappointment he shows when I tell him I'm a pit pony (there's that term again) for an armored transport company. At least if I were an EMT he wouldn't be disappointed. He would, because I'm not writing for a living, but at least being an EMT is a job with a friggin' purpose, it's important, and it means something. All my job means is that I cater to people who are too fucking lazy to go to the bank their damn selves.

I see myself as the only female in the company...and all these big macho men back off and slap me with the route that has a billion boxes of coin because they can't lift it.

I see this fucking good ol' boys club of guys who were in the military. And wouldn't the Army guys be pissed if they heard what the Marines were really saying behind their backs after being all buddy buddy, we were in the military so we're brothers thing?! You can imagine just from the reeming I got from the Marines when they found out I'd been checking out the Air Force.

The constant state of blind panic.

And the constant thought of how will I quit and go out in a blaze of glory?

I'm going to bed.

"Oh, goody! Sleep! That's where I'm a viking!" - The Simpsons