Pissy Mood

One of my neighbors was cleaning her back yard and piling the junk she gathered in the street in a giant heap. These pots were on top of the heap. Who throws away this kind of stuff? These are about forty bucks each new and they are still in perfect condition. I knocked on her door to see if I could have them but she wasn't home. I took that as a yes and grabbed them. About the time I had them loaded into the back of the car, she came home. She said she sent me an email telling me to take them. I had a bad day at work today. I think that the novelty of working in the hardware store has worn off and little things are starting to piss me off. I was feeling kind of down all day for no specific reason that I could think of. I just felt like I resented being there. After having several hours to mull over why I was feeling peevish, it occurred to me what it was. There was a notice on the board today from the owner to the manager, which the manager had posted with the important points underlined for emphasis. The crux of the memo was that, should the store fall short of expectations in a certain area, all vacations and days off would be canceled. Further, everyone would be expected to work nights, if needed, to correct the situation. Or else. Longtime readers know that Merle Wayne Sneed doesn't like to be told what to do that much and ultimatums will get you nowhere fast. But that isn't really the my problem with the whole business. This managerial muscle flexing shouldn't bother me at all, because I don't really have a stake in the operation. I get paid a piss ant wage to do a job, albeit a job I more or less enjoy. But this job is a job, is not a crusade. So, don't threaten me. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky