Dumber than an box of rocks

I am going to say some not very nice things about someone, but this is all anonymous, and I'm sorry, but it's true.

It's also the same employee as this post, which will probably surprise no one.

I am in charge of the badge software that lets people in the doors. I now have a badge printer, and I make new ones on site, instead of sending off for them. They are standard RFID badges. My conversation(s) with this employee went something like this.

Employee: I need a new badge, mine has quit working.
Bee's: Ok. I need to get your picture so I can print you a new one. I don't have time right now, but I will get it for you sometime this afternoon.
EE: how long do they take to come in?
B: I print them on site now.
EE: Oh, ok.

Later that afternoon -
EE: Do you know when my new badge will be here?
B: I have to take your picture first. I print them here.
EE: Oh. I don't have time for you to take my picture right now, I'm about to leave. 

The next day -
EE: Is my badge coming in soon?
B: [Internal screaming] Let me take your picture and I will get it for you right now. I print them here.
EE: Oh, you do? I didn't know that. You know, they only last about six months. Then the little numbers start to come off the back and they quit working.
B: [Not sure why I'm trying, but why not] No, there's actually a computer chip in them. You probably just brush up against a magnet or something.
EE: It doesn't scan the numbers?
B: [You mean where there is no scanner on the door or barcode to scan?] Nope. It doesn't.
EE: What about that.

Not resorting to physical violence

After my barely coherent midnight ramblings in this post, I drove the half an hour back to work. It was cranking on one in the morning, I had worked all day Friday, and I was tired. The kind of tired where you turn the radio and the air conditioning both up, because you don't want to fall asleep tired. The maybe you shouldn't be driving tired.

I am proud of myself though. When the twerp at the restaurant told me I would have to wait until the next day to order for the next day, even though I was standing right there, did I smash his head into the countertop? I did not. I also didn't get to say what I would have had I been a little more with it, which is, "I would like to order now." Instead, I got to make sure I ordered on Saturday for the nasty smelly food that I can't seem to cleanse from the air in my car.

When I finally got back to work, I loaded it all onto a cart and rolled it back to the department on third shift. Who had all been to sleep fairly recently. The supervisor, Ephraim, came in, and politely asked if I was going to stay and eat. I said no, that I wanted to go home and get to bed. I then made an offhand comment about getting to do that twice tomorrow.

Well. Then Ephraim just grinned, and very sarcastically said, "Yeah, your job is so hard." And did I punch him in the throat? No. I just smiled, told them to enjoy their food, and left.

That just, as we Southerners say, burns my biscuits. Am I out on the floor working? No. And they work hard out there, I won't argue with that. But I work hard too, and just because I'm not out on the floor doesn't mean I'm not working. Also, they all make easily twice what I do. The supervisor probably makes 2.5 times more than me. And I work longer hours than he does. It made me so mad I could have spit.

From my house, to the restaurant, to work, back to my house is a two hour round trip. And I did it three times with no complaint to anyone except my mother, who doesn't count.

When I got back to my office, I did give myself thirty seconds to contemplate quitting my job. It was late, and no one was in the office. I thought about what belongs to me personally in my office (shockingly little) and how long it would take to get to my car (not long at all). I have a key to my boss's office, so I thought I could just write down my passwords and a couple of other relevant pieces of information. Leave my keys and my ID badge on the desk. And just peace out. No one would know until Monday. My boss would have been at my door, but I didn't plan that far. It was a very pleasant thirty seconds.

Then I went home, got some sleep, and turned around and made two more trips to get food, both of which were less eventful than the first. I even had two whole people (one per crew) say thank you. I feel so appreciated.

I'm sorry, what?

One of the janitors just went past my office with what I am fairly certain was a false mustache on his face. That is all.

They don't pay me enough for this

It is 12:08 a.m. and I am in the parking lot of a restaurant chain that sells wings and is open at this forsaken hour.

I overestimated how long it would take me to get here from home, where I should be now. Instead of out on Friday the 13th with a full moon. Oh, it isn't Friday anymore. Its Saturday. Because I am out late to pick up food for people that will be mad I did not get enough sauces. I am not supposed to pick up the food till 12:30, so it's the parking lot for me. The restaurant smells weird.

They don't pay me enough for this. If I could've paid over the phone, I wouldn't be in this mess. Someone who makes three times what I make could have come instead. But no. Let's drag Bees out of bed to do it. Great plan. I wasn't in bed, because I know me, and I would not have gotten back up. 

This is a little more... frank than I usually am, but it is late and I am tired.