Conways Food And Drug: Andrea
People annoy me. People didn't use to annoy me. In fact I used to like people. Then I worked retail. I used to want to be a therapist. Now I want whatever job will isolate me as far away from the human race as possible. I'm seriously becoming an overnight stocker.
The only people to piss you off are the cockroaches, and you're allowed to kill them.
We're generally discouraged from killing the customers. Sometimes I find cockroaches and pretend that they're the customers who have pissed me off as I stomp them dead. It's a great cathartic exercise and one of the only ways I can get through the day without ripping out my hair or that of the nearest co-worker.
Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike my job. Just the people that come with it. It's like taking a really good drug with some nasty side effects. I like being in charge. I like playing mind games with the new employees. If it weren't for the customers, being a customer service supervisor would be the best thing in the world.
In school, I used to hate the sound of the bell ringing because it meant it was time to get to work.
The bell has now been replaced by the sound of my subordinates calling my name.
It snaps me out of whatever daydream I've managed to concoct (usually they involve me getting cursed at by Christian Bale) and reminds me that now I'm the teacher and I have a store full of rowdy employees and equally rowdy customers to manage. The sound of my name blaring over the loud-speaker (which is reminiscent of a 1950-era nuclear alert siren) pierces ever fiber of my being and evokes a Pavlovian-like response by which I shudder just a little bit. Even outside of work, the sound of someone calling my name still makes me cringe. I'll be 90 years old before I can shake it, and by that time I won't even know my name.
On my good days, I'll go see what the problem is within five or ten minutes. On my bad days, or if it's someone I generally dislike calling for me, I push it back to fifteen or even twenty if I really want to tempt fate. Usually someone gets mad at some point while waiting for me to come see what they need, which I find strangely enticing. There's something intrinsically satisfying about having the power to piss people off just by your mere absence. For that one moment, things revolve around me. Call me a narcissist, but I think it's pretty cool.
The only people to piss you off are the cockroaches, and you're allowed to kill them.
We're generally discouraged from killing the customers. Sometimes I find cockroaches and pretend that they're the customers who have pissed me off as I stomp them dead. It's a great cathartic exercise and one of the only ways I can get through the day without ripping out my hair or that of the nearest co-worker.
Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike my job. Just the people that come with it. It's like taking a really good drug with some nasty side effects. I like being in charge. I like playing mind games with the new employees. If it weren't for the customers, being a customer service supervisor would be the best thing in the world.
In school, I used to hate the sound of the bell ringing because it meant it was time to get to work.
The bell has now been replaced by the sound of my subordinates calling my name.
It snaps me out of whatever daydream I've managed to concoct (usually they involve me getting cursed at by Christian Bale) and reminds me that now I'm the teacher and I have a store full of rowdy employees and equally rowdy customers to manage. The sound of my name blaring over the loud-speaker (which is reminiscent of a 1950-era nuclear alert siren) pierces ever fiber of my being and evokes a Pavlovian-like response by which I shudder just a little bit. Even outside of work, the sound of someone calling my name still makes me cringe. I'll be 90 years old before I can shake it, and by that time I won't even know my name.
On my good days, I'll go see what the problem is within five or ten minutes. On my bad days, or if it's someone I generally dislike calling for me, I push it back to fifteen or even twenty if I really want to tempt fate. Usually someone gets mad at some point while waiting for me to come see what they need, which I find strangely enticing. There's something intrinsically satisfying about having the power to piss people off just by your mere absence. For that one moment, things revolve around me. Call me a narcissist, but I think it's pretty cool.
