God, where do I start? Let's see. Ummm....let's start with the simple. My job. I love my job. I love meeting new people and having the time to laugh and talk with most of them and since I live in a VERY small town, the majority of my customers are regulars who come in 10 times a day or just sit around the store all day drinking coffee. I love my customers and I love my job. But, this job is killing me.
First, the manager refuses to hire new help even though the three of us who actually run the register are working 6 days a week on schedule and then are on call 24/7. Our days off usually consist of 45 minutes to an hour of work. Because if just one person is late, with only three of us working and one of us jumping back and forth between the kitchen, if just one person calls in sick or late then we have to work those extra hours. I'm barely able to spend any time with my girls. Today, a Saturday, I'm off. Supposedly. If the manager decides he really does want to get rid of one of the other girls who is working there now, then I'm screwed and going to work on a Saturday when I made plans. My plans don't matter in the grand scheme. This place is a house of cards and just breathing on it too hard is going to send it crumbling.
Then I got into it with one of the customers the other night. I kind of fear my job security over that incident, but at the same time, I will NOT allow ANYONE to treat me like a dog. They don't pay me enough to roll over and play dead. This guy, Terrell, came in to the store the other night and wanted some chicken. No big, right? Except that when I first started working at this place, I asked one of the kitchen girls what they did with the leftover chicken at night. She told me they threw it away when they took it out of the hot box and so I assumed that Thursday night Ivy, the guy who works with me, had thrown it out.
Terrell asks for a two piece dark and then realizes the chicken isn't in the hot box and asks where it's at. I told him that Ivy had probably already thrown it out cause he took it to the back. Terrell automatically starts cussing and runs to the back telling Ivy he wants a two piece dark. He comes back up and says Ivy's getting it and I apologize for my mistake and continue to ring him up. THEN he tells me that it should be half price because I told him Ivy threw it out. I tell him no, it's still full price, because it's not like Ivy is digging his chicken out of the trash, he's just putting it into a container and bringing it up. Then, Terrell starts yelling and cussing me and when he realizes my manager is standing behind him, tells the manager, "Hey, it's half price right?" The manager tells him no and I ring him up full price. He's shut his mouth. He had about 35 cents change and I handed to him and he tells me, "Don't fucking throw my money at me."
I cocked an eyebrow at him (think yahoo, yeah...I can do that IRL) and he goes to walk off. I let his comments go until he called me a crazy bitch. Then I exploded and told him that this is the SECOND time he's pulled his shit and I don't have to put up with it. Then he starts ranting about "Who are you? No one." To which I responded, "Yeah, I'm me. Who the fuck are you? Shit to me." Then he came back with, "I make more in half a day than you make in a whole week." My response? "If you make more than I do in half a day than an entire week, why the fuck are you in here every damn night begging for free food you fucking bum?" To which he mumbles something under his breath because we're surrounded by customers and I just called his bluff and I tell him, "You don't like it? Don't fucking come back in here when I'm on shift. If you see me through the doors, turn around and walk away," and he walks out, still trying to front but just looking like a fool. The manager told me if he comes in acting like that again when I'm on shift to call the cops. I guess his buddy was in the store cause a few minutes later Terrell comes back in and tries to smooth things over with the manager and asks PW (the manager) if he really told me to call the cops. PW says, "Yep. Every time I get a new cashier in here you come in fucking with them and I'm sick of it. Kim isn't just another crackhead whore who's going to put up with it and if you know what's good for you you'll take this little experience and learn from it."
So, I knew things were cool with the manager, but the owner is a hard ass who thinks the customers are more valuable than actually having workers in the store, so I figured when he got wind of it, that would be it and I'd be out the door. Surprise, surprise, yesterday the owner was in the store and he didn't say one thing or another about it. So, I guess for the most part my job is safe. Dunno though. Things are always full of drama around there. But, I can deal as long as they don't try to put a leash on me when dumbasses come through.
But that's just the simple stuff that's a whole lot of whatever. It's stressful, but not major in my life on a scale of 1 to 10. The hard stuff is that my mom is being tested for cancer on the 28th. She's already been through alot of different tests, but now they are thinking there must be something they missed because she's losing weight like crazy, always in pain and her CFC's or whatever they're called are off the charts so they want to retest her. God, I just can't handle that. I don't know what I'll do if my mom does have cancer. She's been a surrogate father for the girls. Not so much a "male role model" as stepping up and taking the place of Marco and doing the things he was supposed to do and if she's got cancer then our fragile little world is going to blow into a million pieces and I don't know how we'll ever put it back together again. I depend on my mom alot and have been depending on her alot since I left Marco. She's the one who is changing one diaper while I'm changing the other. She's the one who watches the girls while I go to work because who knows when child support will get here and if it will actually be enough to get diapers? She's the one who runs the errands that I don't have time for and she's the one who took the girls to the doctor last week when I had to work because they were so damn sick that they both got antibiotics.
I know this is long and I'm sorry but it's driving me nuts. More than just my emotions are in jeopardy. I also have to consider finances. I have a little nest egg left over from my tax return, but, if all Hell breaks loose and it turns out my mom does have cancer, that little nest egg isn't going to amount to anything because she has no medical insurance. My dad is working, of course, but my mom isn't going to be able to take care of the girls while I go to work so I'm going to have to quit my job to take care of both her and the girls. Even if I put the girls into daycare, my mom is going to need 24/7 care and treatment and that's going to be my responsibility. I'm not bitching about having to take care of her either. It's just that I'm looking at what's about to drop on my head and I already know that I'm going to sit here and overanalyze the situation until I know more. That's part of who I am. I'm a worrier. I worry about everyone and everything that I care about and stress like there's no tomorrow until I can either talk about it or the situation is over. It's not that I crack under pressure, I just see all the "it mights" and "what ifs" and wonder.
God, I'm rambling like crazy. I'm off. I don't even want to think about this right now. Later.