WTF?

Sometimes I really wonder what the hell people are thinking.  I work for a company that manufactures casino furniture, for you guessed it... casinos.  Well, the owner, who also doubles as the salesman, because he is too damn tight to hire a competent one, goes out this past spring and gets contracts to make the chairs for most of the casinos in Mississippi that were damaged or just plain wiped out by hurricane Katrina.  I suppose he didn't realize just how many chairs this was going to be, because ever since we have been behind and struggling to get these damn things out of the door.  Every day goes by, and other employees in my department (metal fabrication) are wanting to stay late and work on these orders, and of course earn a little overtime, they are told no.  I can't work over in the afternoons due to having to pick up the kids from daycare (Geishagirl doesn't get off in time to do it).  So Friday afternoon, just five minutes before time to call it a day, we are told that if we want we can work Saturday.  Well since I don't make near what I am worth, hell who does for that matter?  I figure this would be a good time to earn some extra money, and since we get off at 3:30pm, still have a decent amount of my Saturday left.  So Friday evening I stop playing Halo 2 early (had a blast with no modifier, and a few people from Division XX, good people they are) so I could get plenty of rest to bust ass and get some chairs out the door.  I get up Saturday drive over to my job, and WTF?  No one is there, I wait for a few minutes, and no one ever shows.  So I go home and have a normal Saturday, play a few games of Halo 2 and Battlefront 2 with the wife and kids, blah, blah, blah.  Well, 8:30 Sunday morning rolls around and I hear the phone ringing, I figure it's one of the kids as they spent the night elsewhere, or Geisha's mom, as she sometimes calls early on Sundays because she wants to do breakfast.  Being how I just knew it wasn't for me, I let Geisha answer the phone.  I hear her ask in her "You just woke me up at 8 fucking 30 on a Sunday morning" voice "Who may I ask is calling?"  Then I get handed the phone, with a "You better cuss his ass out" said under her breath.  Guess who it is, the owners son wondering if I can come in for a couple of hours because he is in a bind and needs to get out 400 chairs by tomorrow.  Oh well, I think to myself as I tell him no.  I know that a couple of hours with his lazy ass will turn in to an all day thing, and Geisha isn't having that.  I hate my job.

Posted by darththorn on Sun Aug 20, 2006 @ 8:37 am EDT | 2 Comments