Post by Captain Wonderful on Jul 19, 2007 7:55:47 GMT -5
"I marked at work tonight," or, "an incredibly roundabout and long-winded job rant / a bunch of awesome."*
*Skip to the end for the fun part, as you probably actually couldn't care less about me or my job.
It's not often I get to say that. In fact...I've NEVER said that. My first reaction to kicking the ass of every other person at the interview for my job and getting the call back a few days later was "HOLY CRAP! I got in at Toys R Us!" Today, I still think that, yes, but it always ends up sounding more like "crap. I work at Toys R Us.
" The words "overworked" and "disgustingly underpaid" come to mind, but I guess jobs weren't meant to be fun. Otherwise, they'd be called "funs," and everyone would be saying things like "hey, I'll talk to you later, Eunice. I have to go to fun."
I didn't mark for the random 9 hour shifts they threw at me tonight and tomorrow, and I don't mark for not being allowed to leave the store on my lunch, nor did I mark for the resulting nic-fit. I KIND of mark for the girl who works there that's, like, nerdy hot? Or, at least, I mark for looking at her.
So, after lunch, they started unloading the trucks, and the end result was the floor being flooded with SO smurfING MUCH STUFF, more than I'd ever even seen in the storeroom. I had only managed to put out roughly one palate of merchandise before our manger told us to start putting everything away. This was at 5, and my shift was supposed to end at 6. I got out of there at 6:30, which begs the question "what in the blue hell was the point of taking all of this stuff out if it just took well over an hour to put back?" That was an hour that could have been spent...y'know...putting it on the shelves.
For those of you who have worked stock, I'm sure you know how much it sucks. For those who haven't, it sucks. I'm not thrilled about my job at all. In fact, it completely drains me. There are times that I actually get angry when I realize I have to do juvenile, or, for the layperson, "the baby section." Which, invariably, is all diapers. And that baby smell. I always thought that it was the actual babies that smell like that, but, no. It's baby products. ALL OF IT. ...WHY? When I'm told to do juvenile, I immediately weigh my options: 1) Put my headphones on, suck it up, do my job like an adult, but throw lots of stuff, or 2) take my box cutter and apply it firmly to my throat. Option 1 is usually the winner.
We just started remodeling the store, so, basically, from now until Christmas, my job entails helping remodel, and then doing my own stocking. The remodeling consists of taking EVERYTHING off of the shelves, out of the valances, off of the top of the shelves, moving the entire gondolas about an inch, and then putting everything back on the shelves. Fun. Once we did about three hours of this, we went to lunch (after clocking out, of course; Heaven forbid my paycheck is roughly $2 heavier when I can't even go outside and smoke), and, upon returning to work, I made my way into the incredible, cavernous canal-system that had been created with palate upon palate upon U-boat of boxes of merchandise. I made sure not to go anywhere near any girls stuff; I wanted to look at army men and guns and crap. Then, I noticed something printed on one of my boxes that I have just been dying to notice printed on one of my boxes since I started there. One word, five letters, a whole mountain of happy for me:
"Jakks."
I squealed like a little girl and knocked everything out of the way to get to that Jakks stuff. There were ECW figures and championship belts, and two huge boxes that I didn't know anything about. Now, when we get something that's a new product, something that doesn't already have a spot on the shelves, the sticker on the box says "$.00." You scan the bar code and the price will come up on the RF gun, then you can print a sticker. So, I have no idea what's in this box or how much it costs. And the box is big and heavy. I was thinking about how I'd never seen one of those Wrestlemania 2 rings in person and, while I knew that wasn't what it was going to be, I marked at the possibility. And I was close.
I cut the large and heavy box open, and there's only one thing in it; a scale ring, much like the Wrestlemania 2 ring, but, of course, this is 2007. It's a Raw ring, it has all the awesome stuff the Wrestlemania 2 ring has, like the metal turnbuckles and posts, foam turnbuckle pads, fabric ring skirts and a CANVAS ring mat. Also, it has an ELIMINATION CHAMBER. With breakable chambers. I was so busy marking over stupid things like foam turnbuckle pads that I forgot to see what the chamber was made out of, but it looks freakin' awesome. And did I mention it's HUGE? It's the "largest Jakks WWE ring ever," something like 33 inches square by 15 inches high. Only one of them fit on the shelf, and I had to rearrange tons of stuff to get it there. I was seriously considering buying one (after all, I do get a store discount), until I scanned the box to print a sticker. $120. This thing has got to be absolutely wicked.
I realize that this is probably news to nobody, but I don't really follow the figures. I find it fascinating that, with all that's going on in my life, no matter how much it sucks and how much I may hate it at times, all it takes for me to be happy is to just touch an awesome toy.
*Skip to the end for the fun part, as you probably actually couldn't care less about me or my job.
It's not often I get to say that. In fact...I've NEVER said that. My first reaction to kicking the ass of every other person at the interview for my job and getting the call back a few days later was "HOLY CRAP! I got in at Toys R Us!" Today, I still think that, yes, but it always ends up sounding more like "crap. I work at Toys R Us.
" The words "overworked" and "disgustingly underpaid" come to mind, but I guess jobs weren't meant to be fun. Otherwise, they'd be called "funs," and everyone would be saying things like "hey, I'll talk to you later, Eunice. I have to go to fun."I didn't mark for the random 9 hour shifts they threw at me tonight and tomorrow, and I don't mark for not being allowed to leave the store on my lunch, nor did I mark for the resulting nic-fit. I KIND of mark for the girl who works there that's, like, nerdy hot? Or, at least, I mark for looking at her.
So, after lunch, they started unloading the trucks, and the end result was the floor being flooded with SO smurfING MUCH STUFF, more than I'd ever even seen in the storeroom. I had only managed to put out roughly one palate of merchandise before our manger told us to start putting everything away. This was at 5, and my shift was supposed to end at 6. I got out of there at 6:30, which begs the question "what in the blue hell was the point of taking all of this stuff out if it just took well over an hour to put back?" That was an hour that could have been spent...y'know...putting it on the shelves.
For those of you who have worked stock, I'm sure you know how much it sucks. For those who haven't, it sucks. I'm not thrilled about my job at all. In fact, it completely drains me. There are times that I actually get angry when I realize I have to do juvenile, or, for the layperson, "the baby section." Which, invariably, is all diapers. And that baby smell. I always thought that it was the actual babies that smell like that, but, no. It's baby products. ALL OF IT. ...WHY? When I'm told to do juvenile, I immediately weigh my options: 1) Put my headphones on, suck it up, do my job like an adult, but throw lots of stuff, or 2) take my box cutter and apply it firmly to my throat. Option 1 is usually the winner.
We just started remodeling the store, so, basically, from now until Christmas, my job entails helping remodel, and then doing my own stocking. The remodeling consists of taking EVERYTHING off of the shelves, out of the valances, off of the top of the shelves, moving the entire gondolas about an inch, and then putting everything back on the shelves. Fun. Once we did about three hours of this, we went to lunch (after clocking out, of course; Heaven forbid my paycheck is roughly $2 heavier when I can't even go outside and smoke), and, upon returning to work, I made my way into the incredible, cavernous canal-system that had been created with palate upon palate upon U-boat of boxes of merchandise. I made sure not to go anywhere near any girls stuff; I wanted to look at army men and guns and crap. Then, I noticed something printed on one of my boxes that I have just been dying to notice printed on one of my boxes since I started there. One word, five letters, a whole mountain of happy for me:
"Jakks."
I squealed like a little girl and knocked everything out of the way to get to that Jakks stuff. There were ECW figures and championship belts, and two huge boxes that I didn't know anything about. Now, when we get something that's a new product, something that doesn't already have a spot on the shelves, the sticker on the box says "$.00." You scan the bar code and the price will come up on the RF gun, then you can print a sticker. So, I have no idea what's in this box or how much it costs. And the box is big and heavy. I was thinking about how I'd never seen one of those Wrestlemania 2 rings in person and, while I knew that wasn't what it was going to be, I marked at the possibility. And I was close.
I cut the large and heavy box open, and there's only one thing in it; a scale ring, much like the Wrestlemania 2 ring, but, of course, this is 2007. It's a Raw ring, it has all the awesome stuff the Wrestlemania 2 ring has, like the metal turnbuckles and posts, foam turnbuckle pads, fabric ring skirts and a CANVAS ring mat. Also, it has an ELIMINATION CHAMBER. With breakable chambers. I was so busy marking over stupid things like foam turnbuckle pads that I forgot to see what the chamber was made out of, but it looks freakin' awesome. And did I mention it's HUGE? It's the "largest Jakks WWE ring ever," something like 33 inches square by 15 inches high. Only one of them fit on the shelf, and I had to rearrange tons of stuff to get it there. I was seriously considering buying one (after all, I do get a store discount), until I scanned the box to print a sticker. $120. This thing has got to be absolutely wicked.
I realize that this is probably news to nobody, but I don't really follow the figures. I find it fascinating that, with all that's going on in my life, no matter how much it sucks and how much I may hate it at times, all it takes for me to be happy is to just touch an awesome toy.
