privileged white girl problems

After a not NEARLY long enough weekend, I dragged my soul-less self into Booseville today. Sat up front…opened windows, doors, started phone trees up…and it feels like this day will never end. I’m mildly horrified to look at the clock and see 2:29 stare back at me. Seriously? Not to mention I feel really fat today. I thought being poor would bode well for my thighs and arms but apparently I was oh so wrong.

In addition to the completely random beeping and dinging coming from SOMEWHERE in this huge building, my bladder is apparently pea-sized today as I can’t seem to sit here for more than 20 minutes before I have to pee. …I guess I shouldn’t be drinking so much water. *pout* MY LIFE IS SO HARD.

I haven’t even begun to mention the most awful of awfuls. My back. Something is seriously wrong with my upper back, shoulder blades, and neck. I keep telling the boy that we need a new bed but he is dragging his feet…it better be because he’s saving up for a new car and engagement ring…..I mean…..it better be because he’s….saving his money for our potential child’s college fund…..I guess. Advil, Tylenol, and whatever else there is does nothing for my back. Stretches aren’t helping. UGH DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO DO YOGA?!!?!? I’m gonna be so pissed if I have to start working out. I thought I was allowed to be lazy for like another half decade. Damn. What’s next, wrinkles!? …I shouldn’t even joke.

Apparently I start a new project with the president of this company this week…I have no idea what to expect but—-hold the phones…literally because I had to do so just now…I’ve had to say “one moment” and “would you like voicemail” so many times in the past few days that now I’m saying “wahmom” and “wuduvoymal?” Seriously? Now I can’t handle reception? Jesus H. I guess I should stick to being a lazy at home girlfriend. Speaking of which, our place is a mess. I keep saying that I’ll clean up and tidy up but I’m just so exhausted every day…and that’s really the saddest part. I’m *exhausted* from sitting at a desk and transferring calls. Truly the epitome of Privileged White Girl Problems.

Guys. I’m back at Booseville and back up front and—oh hi, by the way. Remember when I fell off the face of the planet for a bit? Me too. But hiii! I’m back. Which is funny…because I feel like I’m back at tumblr because I’m back at Booseville. Speaking of which, things have changed since I was here last. The phone system is awesome and way easier to handle. But don’t worry, the callers are still jerks. And yet somehow I adore being here. It must be because before this I was at the worst job ever…

So while I was off the interwebz, I was working at..how shall I put this…pretty much the absolute worst-asshole-jerky-pits of hell retail store in the galaxy. The owner is a complete and total waste of human form…if you can even call it that. It’s more like Satan form in tacky, hideous, unflattering patterns….and even if she wasn’t such a raging bitch I’d STILL point out her total lack of—not even *fashion* sense..just common sense of “hmm I look like a diarrhea smear…maybe I should not buy this top.” But here’s the deal…the woman treats her employees and her costumers SO awful and she gambles all of the store’s money so they’re just drowning in debt and she blames everyone but herself. Just THINKING about her makes my skin crawl. She owns the store because her husband kicked the bucket a while back and he left it to her..even though he treated her like scum and hated her and screamed at her all the time (in front of costumers!)—which is where she gets top notch manager skills, I’m sure. Now, I’m not saying she deserves to be yelled at or deserves to be treated like less than a human………..or am I? I’m sure she wasn’t always like this, but sweet unholy jesus almighty…she’s a piece of work.

The only good thing about the establishment (let’s call it Butt M&Ms) is the incredible staff. They’re easy going, hilarious, hard workers, and they KNOW the product. For real. The only reason Butt M&Ms makes ANY money is because their employees are so rad. One of the employees (we’ll call him rick) has been there for yeeeaaarrrsss soooo many years…which is REALLY saying something considering everyone who works for Butt M&Ms ends up running away screaming within the first 5 months (if not sooner).

One day, I’m working with rick and another awesome employee and the owner isn’t supposed to come in this day. A few hours into the day we feel the earth quiver..doves start falling out of the sky…small children start crying…and the smell of sulfur knocks us over—the owner is here. She storms in and immediately starts screaming at the two employees. She starts abbrasively picking apart every little detail of the employees and their work as she waddles around the store. After these two had been working their asses off getting the store ready for open and dealing with costumers and callers and vendors and whatnot….she has the nerve to say “GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU GUYS? NOTHING IS HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE I MEAN GOD, RICK, DO YOU EVEN WORK HERE?!” **…..excuse me? A of all, you’re NEVER here so how the hell do you know how things are supposed to be? B of all, HE’S THE HARDEST WORKER IN THE HISTORY OF THIS PALCE!!!!! Here’s the cherry on top…..as she waddles away from screaming at her employees in front of costumers, she goes into the safe and steals money to feed her gambling problems. So let’s recap—workers work hard all morning, owner swoops in to scream, steals money, and leaves. There’s a day of hard honest work!

Surely someone so heinous wouldn’t dare treat their costumers with the exact same disrespect and lack of compassion! One day, a costumer walks in, ready to spend his hard earned money, and she accosts him with “HI WHAT DO YOU WANT CAN I HELP YOU FIND ANYTHING!?” and he says “oh hi there, yeah actually I want to get a book—” and she cuts him off to cackle “GOOD FER YOOOUUU” …….he just stares at her…completely confused and not sure if it’s a joke….it isn’t. She walked away.

Now, perhaps you’re sitting at your computer thinking “Oh come one, PWGP! You’re way overreactingbigtimelikewoah” and to you I say, A of all: shut your face! It’s my job to be annoyed!!! and B of all: I haven’t even scratched—nay, I haven’t even started to THINK about scratching the surface of this horrid horrid horrid woman and her equally awful store. I basically just can’t type any more stories right now because my insides are melting from all of the awful memories. But fear not…this isn’t over. I have so many other wonderful stories for you….and not just about the owner…also about the manager. But, alas, that’s for another time.

Side note—WHY IS IT SO HARD TO FIND A GOOD DEODORANT!? I mean seriously people. Every deodorant either doesn’t work, leaves marks on my shirt, chunks in my pits, or smells like fruit or cinnamon or something. I just want my pits to be fresh. Is that so much to want? IS IT!? Also, I’m doing this new diet called “too poor to buy food” so far it’s working out REALLY well. Sigh. Why can’t I enjoy anorexia like the pretty people? Sigh. Until next time!

**whenever she speaks, it’s always screechy and loud..try to picture what a dying bat would sound like if it was 500 lbs and just riddled with disgust and utter misery for like 50 years.

I’ve completely convinced myself that there is a mind-reading ghost haunting my house…when my boyfriend is gone. Oh like YOU don’t have one?! It seriously scares the diamonds out of me. It messes with the huge expensive amazing tv I watch all day, and It ruined my french macaroon recipe last night. Okay but seriously it really does mess with the TV, I hear foot steps in the hallway at night, door knobs open, all that good stuff. Not to mention it scares my little pup. Pup will wake up and stare into space and bark…it’s creepy how focused he is. In fact, my friends were over a couple nights ago and they “scared it off” by telling it that its presence is recognized but it can’t stay here. I hope it works. Because honestly, it’s too much to live in fear of a fucking ghost…oh right I had decided it was a mind reader and would know if I was thinking about how scared I am of it…so I try to trick my brain into not thinking scared thoughts. I literally am scared to shower when I’m home alone. Okay..you caught me. This is all an elaborate lie to cover the fact that I like being a smelly slob. 

I feel like there is totally a possibility of a fire, robbery, or even one of those freak accidents when a car just FLIES into a convenience store…all of those things are silly to spend my days worrying about…and yet I continue to do so. Which explains why I’m gaining so much fear weight………which is TOTALLY a thing…right?

A couple of days ago I got a call from a friend of mine who still works at a place I temp’d for a while back. I’m one of the few temps that this organization stays in contact with..so whenever they need a temp for like a day or so they give me a ring-a-ding. Today they need someone to cover reception. It’s strange..even though you’d think “answering phones..how difficult can that be” …it’s surprisingly a pain in the butt. Okay, picking up the phone is easy—that’s not where the problem is..it’s actually sending someone to voicemail that throws a wrench in the smooth sailing of menial tasks up front. I’ve noticed that—CAN I JUST STOP FOR A SECOND. GOOD. THERE IS AN INSANELY LOUD, CONSTANT, ELECTRICAL BUZZ HAPPENING DIRECTLY OVER MY HEAD AND I SWEAR TO THE RECEPTIONIST GODS IF A HUGE LIGHT FIXTURE FALLS ON ME TODAY…I’M GONNA SEND ALL CALLS TO THE WRONG EXTENTION. …okay that was a little harsh. I’m really letting my power get away from me.

Like I was saying, voicemail….okay even *I* can’t finish typing about it because it bores me ever so much. On the plus side, the rain has cleared up and I no longer feel as though my freezepops (which is what I call my fingers..because they’re constantly freezing) have thawed out completely.

Let’s give this place I’m at a name..how about—OH MY GOD. The buzzing stopped! My head is safe after all..well from physical damage at least. Let’s name this place…I’m gonna go with Booseville. And no, I will not explain why. When someone from Booseville calls the front desk expecting their usual living phone tree, and get MY silly self..they totally lose their minds.

“Booseville, this is [pwgp]”
“Wait..where’s [Veronicalissaelle]?”
“Oh she’s gone for the day..”
“…What?”
“She’s out for the day but should be back next week.”
“…[Veronicalissaelle]?”
“…no. This is [pwgp]”
“Oh…so…[Veronicalissaelle] is..gone..”
“bingo”
*things being thrown around the office in horror and confusion*
“…did you need me to transfer a call or take a message or anything”
“I JUST WANTED TO LET SOMEONE KNOW THAT I PUT A PLATE OF CRACKERS AND CHEESE IN THE KITCHENNNNNNN”
-click-

I promise, even though voicemail throws me off…I really can handle this.

on a side note….I MISS PUPPY!!!

I’m originally from Washington DC, and..surprisingly, I know what pain looks like, how it sounds, and its total unrelenting thrash. But you wouldn’t guess it from the blog you’re wasting your time reading. Not to make fun of my own readers (all 2 of you), but you know you have way more important things to do.

I’m not a writer. I’m not even a “blogger.” I don’t get tumblr…it bothers me because I’m pretty sure there should be another vowel in there…but alas. Here I am. 

I’m unorganized, sloppy, jump all over the place (in writing and IRL…yeah..IRL), and I’ll probably sound like 14-17 year old girl’s twitter…minus the RT @beiberztownzLAWLS<3 and “ooohhh emmm geee my test in bio today was KILLUH!” but I’m not afraid to admit, I’m a whiney B. So…why should you read this blog? You probably shouldn’t. But who knows…maybe it’ll be funny.

I’m completely healthy, happy, taken care of, loved, liked, successful, and I’m still so complainy.