Last night and this morning, I cried. The stress has been getting to me lately; add to that the fact that there are people out there who literally don’t care if I catch COVID-19, bring it home, spread it to my entire family and we all get sick enough to die because fuck us, their 401k is suffering and it’s too much. It’s too damned much.
Tomorrow, I’m off. Wednesday and Thursday I’m in at 6. Friday is a semi-normal 8:30. I’m getting forty hours this week on top of the Sunday premium. I should be happy.
Over the weekend, Prime found an article from BuzzFeed news that detailed the dismal failures of Costco in protecting their employees. It was awful. I wanted to burst into tears when he was done.
I work for this company. I was proud to work for this company. I honestly thought that this company was different. I thought that we were working for someone who was better than Walmart. I was wrong. Dear Primus, I was very wrong.
It was just over the weekend that Costco started requiring us to wear masks while on the clock. We’re supposed to limit how many people enter the building–two people per membership–but management is simply saying, “We’ll let everyone in this time but you’ll know better next time.” One guy walked in with five people and as the manager told him it was only two per card, he replied “Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.”
He knew. He was aware. But management let him in anyway.
I am exhausted. I feel as though I am being pushed to the breaking point and there aren’t a lot of people who care. I’m learning some terrible things about people in general. It’s affecting me. It’s affecting me like you wouldn’t believe. Every day, I hear people complaining that things need to be opened back up, that we need to go back to normal, that this virus isn’t so bad, that this is all a hoax and a conspiracy and I want to scream.
Last night and this morning, I broke down and cried. I don’t think that those will be the last times.