CrazyCatLady
Sous Chef
I started Vocational Rehab last Friday, known as VR, at Walmart. My VR coach went with me, and I was to spend two hours there, recapturing my job skills (like I ever had any to begin with) and memory.
Well, I had a feeling this might be problematic from the get-go. They switched coaches on me at the last minute and paired me up with a twenty-seven-year-old (for lack of a better term) hippie.
Now I'm an old conservative Army type who's probably at the farthest side of WRONG on the political correctness scale ... just so you know.
I was expecting that crusty old Trump-supporting retired USAF Colonel, but no. I get this 5'2" little miss Sunshine, driving a Smart car plastered with Bernie 2016 stickers. No problem there, as long as she doesn't try to talk about politics.
The CAR was the problem. If you're over 5'2", Smart cars are out of the question. They're tiny little two-seaters about the size of a child's lunchbox, with no leg room. They are so small you have to WARN the other person in the car when you move your eyes.
Oh, well. I asked her if she'd drive my Subaru. Sunshine looks at the Subaru, turns her nose up, and says, "No, I'm sorry, but those damage the planet and use too much gas."
Shoot, I'd just had chili and Fritos for my afternoon snack. I could have told her a thing or two about gas, but that would have probably caused her to implode. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.
I go along, folding myself up like an accordion and cramming my 5'11", 150-pound body into a space smaller than a toaster. I'm looking forward to this half-hour drive to work like a visit to the proctologist, but I'm happy to get out and see my store again.
I figured if I kept telling myself that, I'd believe it.
This car's engine was run by two geriatric hamsters, so we hit the interstate at the speed of smell. Meanwhile, in the MP3 player in the radio thing was music (okay, according to her it was) - drumming.
"What's that?" I asked.
Sunshine smiles, and explains that drumming is used for relaxation and visualization for going back to work.
I almost said, "Oh, no no no! Gimme some Skynyrd," but the brain to mouth filter was engaged, so I coughed.
We get to Walmart, and I go in for some paperwork, and we go to the front end. My co-workers and managers are all over me like a bad rash, hugging me and all that ...
And suddenly little miss Sunshine turns into Attila The Hun. She loudly announces, "Time for work! Let's go!"
So I start on a register, and she's watching and circling me like a vulture. I get more hugs from customers and co-workers alike and I just know that's making her skin crawl, so I'm happy.
Then ... something I've never, EVER, heard comes over the PA.
Evacuation notice, and this is NOT a drill or test. This is the real deal.
I abandon the register, tell people to leave their carts, go to the nearest exit, and all that. I got other cashiers to check the bathrooms, etc., etc. I remembered every single one of my emergency procedures!
Attila is quaking and freaking, asking me what's going on. "Possible bomb threat," I whipered.
Next thing I know, she's flying down the front of the store as fast as her amoeba-shaped body would go, heading for the door. Now that's what I call dedication, right there.
We evacuate the store, get outside in the parking lot, and there's nine cop cars and a K-9 unit all over the front of the building. I find Attila out there, cowering behind her car.
Like a Smart car is going to protect her. Okay. I'd take my chances on the light pole, but that's just me.
"Is it a bomb?" she asks, terrified.
"I don't know, Princess. You just stay here so I know where you are."
Where do they find these people?
I left her out there becoming one with the pavement and found a group of managers and CSMs and hung out with them for an hour until we were given the all-clear to re-enter the store.
I look around. The parking lot is nearly empty with no Smart car in sight. Well, that figures. She was probably halfway to South Carolina by now, but that was fine with me too.
The weekend was relatively uneventful, and today I found out Princess Sunshine Attila had quit her job.
https://www.facebook.com/2659756401...975640127197/1073447672713319/?type=3&theater
Well, I had a feeling this might be problematic from the get-go. They switched coaches on me at the last minute and paired me up with a twenty-seven-year-old (for lack of a better term) hippie.
Now I'm an old conservative Army type who's probably at the farthest side of WRONG on the political correctness scale ... just so you know.
I was expecting that crusty old Trump-supporting retired USAF Colonel, but no. I get this 5'2" little miss Sunshine, driving a Smart car plastered with Bernie 2016 stickers. No problem there, as long as she doesn't try to talk about politics.
The CAR was the problem. If you're over 5'2", Smart cars are out of the question. They're tiny little two-seaters about the size of a child's lunchbox, with no leg room. They are so small you have to WARN the other person in the car when you move your eyes.
Oh, well. I asked her if she'd drive my Subaru. Sunshine looks at the Subaru, turns her nose up, and says, "No, I'm sorry, but those damage the planet and use too much gas."
Shoot, I'd just had chili and Fritos for my afternoon snack. I could have told her a thing or two about gas, but that would have probably caused her to implode. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.
I go along, folding myself up like an accordion and cramming my 5'11", 150-pound body into a space smaller than a toaster. I'm looking forward to this half-hour drive to work like a visit to the proctologist, but I'm happy to get out and see my store again.
I figured if I kept telling myself that, I'd believe it.
This car's engine was run by two geriatric hamsters, so we hit the interstate at the speed of smell. Meanwhile, in the MP3 player in the radio thing was music (okay, according to her it was) - drumming.
"What's that?" I asked.
Sunshine smiles, and explains that drumming is used for relaxation and visualization for going back to work.
I almost said, "Oh, no no no! Gimme some Skynyrd," but the brain to mouth filter was engaged, so I coughed.
We get to Walmart, and I go in for some paperwork, and we go to the front end. My co-workers and managers are all over me like a bad rash, hugging me and all that ...
And suddenly little miss Sunshine turns into Attila The Hun. She loudly announces, "Time for work! Let's go!"
So I start on a register, and she's watching and circling me like a vulture. I get more hugs from customers and co-workers alike and I just know that's making her skin crawl, so I'm happy.
Then ... something I've never, EVER, heard comes over the PA.
Evacuation notice, and this is NOT a drill or test. This is the real deal.
I abandon the register, tell people to leave their carts, go to the nearest exit, and all that. I got other cashiers to check the bathrooms, etc., etc. I remembered every single one of my emergency procedures!
Attila is quaking and freaking, asking me what's going on. "Possible bomb threat," I whipered.
Next thing I know, she's flying down the front of the store as fast as her amoeba-shaped body would go, heading for the door. Now that's what I call dedication, right there.
We evacuate the store, get outside in the parking lot, and there's nine cop cars and a K-9 unit all over the front of the building. I find Attila out there, cowering behind her car.
Like a Smart car is going to protect her. Okay. I'd take my chances on the light pole, but that's just me.
"Is it a bomb?" she asks, terrified.
"I don't know, Princess. You just stay here so I know where you are."
Where do they find these people?
I left her out there becoming one with the pavement and found a group of managers and CSMs and hung out with them for an hour until we were given the all-clear to re-enter the store.
I look around. The parking lot is nearly empty with no Smart car in sight. Well, that figures. She was probably halfway to South Carolina by now, but that was fine with me too.
The weekend was relatively uneventful, and today I found out Princess Sunshine Attila had quit her job.
https://www.facebook.com/2659756401...975640127197/1073447672713319/?type=3&theater
