So I'm not sure at what point I ceased being a supervisor and transitioned into in super cool best bud mode? Seriously, I'm effing confused. Here I am trying to make phone calls to tell a quite lengthy list of my contractors to not come into work tomorrow when the phone rings... It's one of my contractors who was a. calling to see if there was work tomorrow and b. to tell me that she was going to go get a piercing. Okay really? So I can't help but think that because she knows that I'm gay and she's gay to that in her mind we have shit tons of stuff in common. I'm going to take, she has no fucking clue for a thousand alex...
I'm openly gay, yes--however, that does not mean that in a work situation that I'm going to give you special treatment just because OMG you're gay too. Seriously, wtf? So anyway, maybe I'm just having a stereotypical overly hormonal day I'm so famous for, but when she called back to let me know that she got the piercing done and that she couldnt feel her face and blah blah blah and how the piercer had to be gay because she gave her her second piercing for free and then asked for a hug at the end--perhaps I was out of line when I snapped and told her, "hey dude, please don't forget you work in a warehouse with dirty shit floating in the air, please cover them before you come back to work so you're face doesn't get infected and fall off." Jesus Mary and Joseph these people stress me out.
I feel more like a babysitter or principal than a supervisor most times. I mean sure, I like to have fun at work, but there's always a time to be serious. I have supervised a shift of 97 general warehouse workers during peak season, but now that things have died down and the economy officially blows, I have 60 active contractors, of which 30 to 40 actually work daily. Each department has its own group of weirdos and I'm oddly okay with it most days. Today however, I'm going to throw the girl card and blame it on bleeding. Have I mentioned lately that I'd like to rip my own uterus out, perhaps tan it like a deer hide and use it as a fruit bowl or something constructive along those lines, maybe use it as the main focal point in a sculpture, or even donate it to the local elementary school for use in a class project or something, I dunno. The point is, it does nothing for me but bleed and hurt and I'd much rather have it for something more fun... hell I dunno even create a drinking game somehow centered around my uterus once I yank it out, lol.
Sorry for the side tangent, back to the point. So I work in a warehouse and each department has its own issues. My inbound guys for instance are all dirty pervs. A lot of older black men with gold teeth, who never manage to look me in the face when I'm talking, even if I'm coaching them on something or writing them up for safety violations...always mumbling some crazy shit about how my ass looks in my jeans or some stupid shit. Yesterday, I made the mistake of referring to something as being "jacked up" and one dude twisted it to something to do with jacking him off. Most of the time they do shit to try and get a reaction out of me (especially since they've all caught on to the fact that I'm a lesbian, its like they try extra hard now to gross me out or piss me off). I occassionally have to snap them back into reality and play the sexual harassment or insubordination or just flat out level with them and say things along the lines of "look jackass--I'm still you're boss and just because you talk to women on the street like this doesn't mean you have the right to do the same when it comes to me..." and on that note, go on to add "thats probably while you'll be sitting alone at home with a beer in your left hand and your dick in your right and I'll be at home curled up with a beautiful woman..." so yeah, i'm just as much of a problem than they are--but still....its a warehouse, theres a certain amount of shit talking expected. They just piss me off because I'm outnumbered. I can't talk to all my contractors the same way but the ones who I can be "for real" with no when not to fuck with me.
There is this new chick outside of my office with a group of various office people, the GM, the HR Manager, the Safety Manager and then her, she's the new HR generalist or some shit and she's all extra cheery and fake and smilely and shit and I want to throw something at her or just staple things to her forehead just to make her not so cheery for a change...DAMN IT I NEED A NAP OR SOMETHING but seriously her voice is making me want to cut myself, or gouge my eyes out with a dull object. Fuck me.
So really I don't even remember why I started this blog in the first place. What I have accomplished seems to be the random rantings of a chick in need of some form of hormone equilibrium lol. I give up for now.
So I'm going to start the bidding for a barely used nice and shiny uterus at like 5 dollars. And if you call within the next eight minutes and fifteen seconds, I'll even throw in the fallopian tubes, eggs, ovaries, etc and every single feminine hygiene product I have on hand (I should own stock theres so many of the damn things) as for the uterus, QUANTITIES ARE LIMITED SO ACT NOW.
Fine print: vagina/clit combo NOT FOR SALE (just the stuff behind it, heh)
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