Saturday was busy; this was due in no small part to the weather. The forecast called for snow on Sunday and since we never get snow in Wisconsin, everyone had to go out and get a six weeks supply of food. Most of the members were cranky and I was already on the verge of a panic attack just walking in, so it was just wonderful. But it gets better.
Our plexiglass is back, but the counters? That’s another story. We have one on the entrance; it’s for cards and cards only. We’re no longer doing head counts for members entering or leaving. The iPad is gone. We’re going back to business as usual. Even though we’re in the middle of a fucking pandemic. In two weeks, we’re going to start handing out samples again. Basically, corporate is trying to pretend that this is going to magically disappear soon, like within the next few weeks.
It’s not going to work like that but what do I know?
Sunday wasn’t as bad, but a couple of things happened that pissed me off pretty badly. One, the supervisors straight up said that they don’t want me doing any of the walks. Second, I was shoved out on carts right when the snow started getting bad. Yeah, skidding around in the parking lot. So much fun. Coming in soaking wet and freezing. Lots of fun. My right knee is still angry at me and the back of my left leg hurts. I’ve been trying to take it easy so things will heal up a bit but it’s not easy. But that’s not the thing that irritated me. It was about the walks.
Quite literally, I’m the only one there at night who can do that last procedure; nine times out of ten, the supervisors have Assistants at the doors and they haven’t been trained. They know the bare bones basics and that’s all. They can’t do any of the procedures, don’t know that they should tally up the counts for the day, and don’t know where any of the paperwork goes. Hell, the last time I managed to finish one of the walks, I pulled seven or eight door audit sheets from our weekly safety and steel walk folder and put them in the mailbox, where they actually belonged. There were so many of them, I had to paperclip them together. Oh, and if you’re wondering: no, the night I was stuck on go-backs, the last procedure wasn’t done. Yes, I absolutely could have done it, but now…
Friday night, when Prime was grabbing some dinner, I ended up refluxing in the car. It happened multiple times that night, even after four antacids. I haven’t had that sort of problem since I was at Walmart.
The reason why it kept happening at Walmart was due to the stress. I developed GERD because of the sheer amount of stress I was under. It’s trying to happen again.
So, again, I have to remember the four words that lead to inner peace: Not my fucking problem. Or it’s going to become a problem. One that might require medical intervention.