Archive ⁄ Boys

So, at work, the system we use recently got an update. With this new update, whenever a customer's order is complete, they are sent an e-mail, granted that there is an e-mail provided. This morning, my boss called me into the office and said I need to start shipping whole sale customers' orders out every day since one of them called and bitch about how we got their part Tuesday but I didn't ship it until Thursday. Well, yeah. I've always shipped out on Thursday. It's how it's always been.

Apparently, I'm wrong. Supposedly, I've been supposed to ship out every day since whenever. Nevermind the fact that one of the managers used to come ship for me on Thursday before I took over shipping. Thursday and Thursday only.

Well, I don't mind shipping out every day, but sometimes I'm just a little busy, you know? I was checking in hard parts until a little before 5, which is when UPS comes to pick up shipments. But whatever.

"You're not really that busy, you just text too much." I do? Yeah, what the fuck ever. Before I started texting "too much," I used to wander around the shop for 5-20 minutes at a time every other hour. He never mentioned that or how I used to chat up the former receptionist when she was still there. God knows how much company time I wasted flirting with her.

Yeah, okay, if I spend too much time texting, what about the guys who work the parts counter? They do dick shit all day. Help customers, 70% chance to put parts up in the morning. That's pretty much it. When was the last time they swept? I used to always sweep up when I first started working there, until I got too busy to. The oil shelves go naked. The helmet shelves get less cluttered until someone (aka me) restocks them. I go out front, note what we need out there, go upstairs, bring the helmets down, take them out of the box, and put them on the shelves.

They don't even fucking do the damn trash. The parts manager does, on top of the other gazillion things he does. (He doubles at our computet tech guy.) He collects all trash bags in the parts department and gives them to me to take them out. Fuck.

Morons, whores, and not enough Alice Donut and Slayer.