Most Random Post Ever: Mourning and Mewling

Hm...I don't even know where to begin with this one, but here goes. My uncle died of cancer Monday. I'm sad, don't get me wrong. Uncle B. was a sweet funny guy. He was also a former employee of the Retail Crapper, so when I used to work there and he'd come in shopping and see me working with my mouth twisted, he already knew. He was my daddy's brother-in-law, and since I didn't have any real contact with that side of the family until like 2000, I didn't really get to know him as well as I know my mom's brother and brothers-in-law. Anyways, the funeral is Friday. I'm worried about my Auntie and cousin. They seem to be "holding up" pretty good, but I know it will be rough. Oh, and if the Retailtopia has any designs on putting me back on the schedule, say....FRIDAY, Shellybird will be unavailable. (Yeah, I'm still pissed. Here's my rant if you missed that post.)

I had trouble with a starting point for this post because it was inspired by a brief moment of eye contact with that hot manager  that I had to leave behind at the Crapper when I got fired. I needed to give backstory on why I was up in there in the first place. I am fixing some food to take to my auntie's house and I stopped by the Crapper to buy ingredients, so there's that. I'm much more comfortable with going in there now. That's no longer an issue, as long as folks don't come at me with, "Do you miss us?!" or "You know you want to come back." I need not hear any of that, seriously.

There really isn't even that much to tell. I was in the housewares department looking for some of those aluminium pans to fix baked angel hair pasta in. One of my ex-coworkers was working in that area and we chatted for a bit. While I was talking to her, the Latino Adonis--how I like to think of  this manager--walked by. Extended eye contact was what transpired. If I must say so myself, my dark purple lipstick was poppin', and my hair was cute, as was my outfit: Denim carpi's that accentuated my curves and a black ballet inspired top, no bra. I went "waist up commando" because that shirt is really too small and my padded bras make it even tighter. Oh, and I'm not getting rid of that shirt because I love it. It makes me feel like Coco from "Fame". BOTH Cocos, doggone it.

He is so hot...and so married. I'm not one of "those chicks". Married men are like damaged goods to me, even if they are hot as fire. When I was young and naive, I did date a few guys who were legally separated, but I wouldn't even do that again. Separated is still married, people. Don't get it twisted. But LORDTTTTTT, if I was one of "those chicks," or better yet, if he was single, he could GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET ALL OF IT!!!!!! Then again, if he was single, I probably wouldn't stand a chance with him because he would have carte blanche with all da womenz. I think he cuts his eye at me (and probably a lot of other chicks) because we're women he can't isn't supposed to have. All that looking is probably just to mentally store up some fap--or perhaps sex-with-wifey-when-he's-really-not-in-the-mood--fodder for later. Whatever the case may be, we just exchanged a look that was probably of more significance to me than it will ever be to him, and now I'm home alone, fixing baked angel hair pasta.

It's an interesting--and suck ass--thing, being single at my age. I mean, I don't have a real grasp on why I am, and I wish I weren't. I'm picky, yes, but there is nothing wrong with having standards. That said, y'all can have all these multiple babies/multiple mamas, weed smoking (still illegal in my state), can't stay out of jail bums walking around here because I don't want one of those. I must sound like I think I'm the isht. Not true. It's taken me the better part of my 40+ years to love and appreciate ME, and there's no turning back. I don't see Tyra Banks staring back at me when I look in the mirror, I think I look pretty decent. My body is at it's best, aesthetically. Granted I do have cellulite, but since I put on weight, I also have curves that I never had before. I'm no longer a stick figure, yay. Shellybird after a shower is farcical and kind of sad. I look at my naked body in the mirror and KNOW that I could really please  blow the mind of the right man, and yet I'm alone. I really don't know what else to say. I had some eye contact with a cute guy and wanted to share it, and I did, all in the same post about my deceased uncle. I am going directly to hell.

Now See???

Good Friday turned out to be a bad day for the Shellybird. I was scheduled to work at the Retailtopia that evening 5-9. I'd been lounging all day. I'd decided to take my name off the substitute teacher list for that day because the kids were getting out early for spring break and I had an appointment that morning anyway. It was the hottest day of the year so far--low 80's--and the first hot day always makes me sick. I don't know why, but I always get a headache, and for me headaches are no joke. (I also get migraines, which are far worse than headaches. If you've never had one, I hope you never do.) I felt the headache nagging at me, but I hate pumping myself full of pills if I can avoid it. They make me feel so...chemical-y. I decided to try napping it away. When I woke up to get ready fro work, I was shot to shit. On top of the headache, I think I was having a hot flash. When I left the house, my hair was plastered to my head, and my clothes were plastered to my body. I was driving down the highway with the AC on full blast and the driver's window down for some relief, which never came. The urge to vomit flooded over me, and I knew then I was not going to make it. I pulled over and called my manager to let her know I was too sick to come in. Her response? "OooooKAY." I don't know about you, but I hate being okayed like that. There's such an air of condescension to it. While I've never been a head honcho of anything, I have been a supervisor before, and I was never one to split hairs when employees told me they couldn't come to work for whatever reason. My philosophy is live and let live. I'm still going to get my paycheck regardless of who shows up or who doesn't. Apparently, the Retailtopia system of beliefs involves shafting employees who miss work during the holidays out of a week's worth of pay. I found this out when I went to the store Saturday afternoon to check my schedule for the upcoming week, which is the week we're in now. My manager said, "You're not on next week's schedule because the district manager payed a surprise visit to the store Friday and was angry about how messy and short-staffed it was." Now see??? Ain't that that about a B...Apparently things can always be worse (than the Retail Sewer).

 Let's get something straight: I have 16 (mostly unfortunate) years of retail experience under my belt. I am well aware that Easter comes second only to Christmas as the biggest money-making holiday. Folks lose their collective poo over Easter baskets, because nothing says "Thank-you, Jesus for dying on the cross for my sins!" like jelly beans and marshmallow chicks...If I didn't feel like my head was going to do a re-enactment of "Scanners," if I hadn't felt like I was going to spontaneously combust, I WOULD HAVE BEEN AT WORK. Illness is the hardest working man in the retail business. It doesn't take holidays or vacations. I'm mad as hell about the situation because my unemployment has run out (which was to be expected) and school is out for spring break. There's the radio gig, but I just got paid from there, so the Retailtopia is my only source of income this week. Did they lose any money because I didn't work Friday?I'll answer that. NOPE. If people think they can get anything cheaper st another store than they would at the Food Lion or Wal-Mart, they will run a flaming gauntlet to get it and stand in a check-out line that's 10 miles long to pay for it, bitching the whole time but whatevs. So why not call me in for a come to Jesus meeting? Why not write me up? I think it's real shitty dicking around with someone's livelihood like that. And I know that I said in my last post that the job isn't that serious to me, and it isn't, in terms of spending even 1 year there. HOWEVER, I have showed up on my scheduled days at my scheduled time and done my job to the best of my ability. I've even worked over an extra 4 or 5 hours per the managers request, a request she made right before my shift was supposed to end, more than once. AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET???

I'm holding my peace right now. No need to act all ghetto when there's the off chance that the store manager might get the district manager to come off his male period long enough to give  me some of my hours back. That chance is looking more and more off each day though because as I'm writing this, it's Wednesday. The time will come though when I WILL  give the district manager a sharing-size piece of my mind for these shenanigans. I have his number saved in my cell phone, to further illustrate the magnitude of my ain't playing-ness.

Peep the last 3 digits of his number....OH, THE IRONY

I can't stand folks who are drunk on power, like their employment is set in stone or something. *DEEP eye roll* I can get that they are trying to run a business , but when you're sick, you're sick. So, yeah, I called out on one of the busiest shopping days of the year...

No, you did NOT, but I felt like I was about to, and THAT is why I didn't come to work.