Sawdust

"If it continues," I wrote yesterday, "I might have to find my balls." It continued, and I found my balls, with some help from Kallie and Carlotta. 

Jennifer is snippy and unhelpful when she's training one person, but she’s three times worse now — training three people at the same time.

This morning she answered another question from one of the temps with an insult instead of an answer, and he got visibly flushed in the face. He has red hair and pale skin, so the blood shows when he's angry, and he's big, too — looks like his last job was lumberjacking, and he's not used to being treated like sawdust.

He didn’t say anything, though. Like all of us only more so, the temps are at the company’s mercy. If he’d said one cross word, that guy could’ve been sent home, and he'd be out of work until his next temp assignment.

Watching his face redden, Kallie and I made eye contact, I motioned toward the door, and we stepped into the hall. "He's gonna deck her," I said.

"I hope not, but it might be justifiable homicide," said Kallie, and we laughed but it wasn't funny.

Carlotta joined us, and we all agreed that Jennifer is horrible. It was starting to feel like a Norma Rae moment when Darla approached and said, “What’s up?”

The three of us gave her an overflowing earful, but I (stupidly) did most of the talking. My best line was, “Open your office door and listen while she’s ‘training’ these people.” We vented for a few minutes, and Darla nodded a lot but said nothing of value — just what you'd expect from management. Then she told us to go back to work, returned to her office, and closed the door.

 From Pathetic Life #7
Tuesday, December 6, 1994

This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.

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