What happens when your boss is an ass-monkey...

Okay, this is going to be a long update as I haven't posted in a long time.

I was fired from the big job that I was all fired up about. Here's what happened:

I got a phone call shortly after getting in one morning. It was a female who had bought two end tables and a tv stand. She was curious about if the merchandise needed to be assembled, and if so, how much assembly would be required and if we are able to assemble it in the store before they pick it up.

Now, being the FNG, I knew that we COULD put the stuff together but not HOW MUCH it would cost as we do charge for the work. So to find that out, I transfered the call to the front office as the secretaries know all about the money end of things. I watched as the little light on the phone stayed lit for about 5-10 minutes and then went out. Call done.

Fast forward a couple hours and I get paged to the front for the pick up. I went and got the pick up ticket that tells me where in the warehouse the customers stuff is. I went back to the warehouse and grabbed my trusty furniture dolly and started off down the towering isles off UNASSEMBLED BOXES. This interesting tid-bit will become relevant in a bit.

I picked out the two end tables and the one tv stand, wheeled it all over to the garage door and opened it up. They backed their pick up truck to the door and I dropped the tail gate. As I began to pick up the first box, the guy came out from the driver's side and said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa.... what the fuck is THIS!?!"

He continued to go on like this, cussing me and swearing up a store. I politly responded, "Sir, you need to stop swearing or I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

He didn't like that.

He continued to become more inventive with his verbage so I went to the assistant store manager, as the store manager was AWOL (again). I told her that this guy was flipping out and that he should be escorted out. Her reply was, "You're a manager, manage it."

So I reluctently went back to the loading area and mister personality went off again.

"I paid over $700 for this shit (yeah, he's THAT kind of dumbass) and I expect it to be put together when I come to get the shit."

I direct the gentlemans attention to the rest of my warehouse, which has two isles with four shelving racks that are about 20 feet tall, filled with NOTHING BUT GODDAMNED BOXES!

And my EXACT words to this was, "Dude, NOTHING comes assembled. I spoke with your lady friend here earlier this morning and told her just that. She asked if we could put your stuff together HERE before you come to pick it up. I TOLD HER YES. I also told her that there is a surcharge for this service and since I am new to this job, I don't know what that charge is. I then transfered her call to the front office where they handle the billing."

At this point, Mr. Wonderful took a step forward, into my face, and said, "Raise your voice ONE MORE TIME!"

I could see out of my peripherial vision that this douche bag had balled up his fists and was getting set to nail me with a haymaker.

I took a small step back and said, "aaaaaaAAAAAAA????" (That's me raising my voice in the most smart-assed way I could think of.)

Well, Captain Snatchbasket cocked his fist back for said hay-maker and I drilled him with a quick jab to the throat. Right below his adam's apple and above that little divot at the top of the rib cage.

NOT SO FUCKING TOUGH NOW, ARE YA!?! YOU ASS CLOWN! I TOLD YOUR DUMB BITCH THE SHIT NEEDS TO BE PUT THE FUCK TOGETHER! I EVEN TOLD HER HOW MUCH TIME IT WOULD TAKE AND WHAT HARDWARE IS INCLUDED! YOU WANNA PUNCH SOMEONE, SOCK YOUR WENCH!

Of course, I didn't say any of this, but I'm thinking it.

Wench picks up her "man" and they leave.

I WAS going to offer to put it together myself and have it delivered to their house for FREE.

But he could suck a fart out my ass for all I cared now.

Two days later, I'm told by the store manager that, "You're not meeting our expectations.... so we're letting you go."

I BET YOU DIDN'T EXPECT ME TO PUNCH THAT ASSHOLE IN THE FUCKING THROAT, DID YA!?! i'D SAY I'M EXCEEDING YOUR EXPECTATIONS YOU FAT FUCK!

Off course, I didn't say any of this either. But I did manage to stamer out, "Are you FUCKING kidding me? You let the guy I'm replacing take two weeks of vacation the day you hire me, I never get to fucking meet him, you don't fucking train me, you don't give me what I need to try and do the job, you constantly undermine my authority, you let these insane shit head sales people run rampant and try to come into MY warehouse and fuck my shit up, and I have to cover for your inept ass screwing up orders, not filling out the proper paperwork and letting YOUR asshat sales people screw the whole damn pooch. And you're going to fire me!?! FUCK!"

So, I've been job hunting since September 6th. I lasted about one month. I've been selling plasma and my baseball cards and comic books for over a month trying to pay the bills.

But other than that, I'm doing okay. How bout you, Clara? How's life treating you?