Saturday was busy but that wasn’t the biggest problem. No, the actual problem happened right after closing, right as my shift ended.
See, I was done at 18:15. We had someone on the last procedure for the night. So five minutes before my shift ended, I let Front End know.
They didn’t send anyone. I called again. I was told to wait, because hey, the person on the walk was coming back so I would be fine!
“But she was not fine.” — Morgan Freeman voice.
No, instead I clocked out two minutes late. Now, that doesn’t sound like much, but there can be trouble if we go over our hours. It’s posted by the schedule in the break room that you’re not supposed to have any overtime; we are not allowed to go over our shift unless it’s been okayed by management.
I was not happy. To be quite honest, I was extremely upset about it. In fact, I was still upset about it the next day! It took me several hours to calm down.
There’s a reason for that. That thirteen year stint in Walmart pretty much fucked me over. I ended up with overtime there and got punished for it; making it worse was the fact that I outright asked if I could simply leave at the end of my shift and the managers said no. It was the job of the CSM to tell me that I could leave. So, I asked, didn’t that make the CSM responsible for the overtime and shouldn’t they have said that I needed to cut hours? Nope. My hours were my responsibility. So why couldn’t I just turn off my lane light and go? Because that was the CSM’s responsibility. Then why weren’t they telling me that I had overtime? Because those were my hours and my responsibility.
It went on like that for several minutes. I’m absolutely serious. Oh, and adding insult to injury: this was a D(ecision Making) Day. I wasn’t allowed to stay at Walmart. No, I had to go home.
This was a Sunday. There were no buses available, my husband and I didn’t have cell phones, we didn’t have a cable modem, my mother-in-law was selling her house and I didn’t have her phone number and the local cab company wouldn’t answer their phone. I had to walk home. It took me three hours to get back. Prime was in a state of shock when I nearly fell into the apartment.
Yeah, Saturday dredged that entire experience up with a vengeance. To say I wasn’t pleased would be very polite. But what really angered me was the fact that no one seemed willing to listen to what I was saying. It’s not the first time that’s happened but it seems to be getting worse. It feels like we’re having a complete breakdown in communication and no one knows how to fix it or doesn’t give a shit to even try. That’s why we’re having so many problems at the doors and throughout the warehouse. It’s maddening.
It’s also not getting any better. At this rate, I have no idea if I can make it to August.
Iacon East 