//

//Theres so many baby shrimps. But they all say happy Thanksgiving

//I was given marks because I spoke “street” Spanish. Not the proper shit they teach.

Schools teach like. Diplomatic upper class Spanish.

Everyone in Mexico speaks street slang Spanish pretty much.

//Like. I made a mistake. I took his words literally and was trying to do something good. I wasn’t trying to be a problem or ignore my duties. I was trying do what I was told.

He literally said “Make keys when you aren’t busy”

Is it my fault we have the weirdest customer rushes!????!!!

—shit. I’m not saying to let it slide. But don’t fucking call it a strike. That shit makes me panic and worry. I had to fight crying for the last two hours of work after putting in 110% of my effort.

//10k EVERY. DAY.

EVERY. . . DAY.

//LISTEN. I WILL SET A MAN ON FIRE.

He made me mad by not being clear. And then made me even more upset by giving me a strike. AS IF I HAVENT BEEN PULLING IN 10K$ and am the TOP employee in the district. (Mind you. I’ve only worked there for two months.)

//My primary language is English. But I get spicy. I’m pasty white girl.

My dad owns a landscape business. I practically grew up with the guys he hires (mainly Hispanic) and I grew up translating for my dad. Spanish is my secondary language.

//Rant done.

—BULLSHIT.

Hay días tontos y tontos todos los días!

Fucking asshole. Make up your fucking mind. You either WANT me to do more. OR. You want me to stay where I AM.

Hijo de las Mil Putas.

—the fucking chair wanting to fucking SCREAM.

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN STRIKE FUCKING TWO. YOU TOLD ME TO HELP MAKE KEYS WHEN YALL ARE BUSY. THERES A GOD DAMN TRUCK AND I WANTED TO BE PROACTIVE AND KEEP THE WEIGHT OFF OF YALL.

THE FUCK YOU MEAN!!!!!!

LIKE FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING —

—manager got on the radio and was like “Damian. Meet me in the office.”

Like WTF There’s a line. Let me fix the line first. He said. No. Office. Now.

I go to the office. He comes in and is like. “This is strike two. You’re a cashier first. And other things second.”

And I’m sitting there in —

—from the fucking hell hole that is the register.

I go back there and start making the key. I had my radio on and told the other cashier if she needed help to call me.

My other female manager found me and told me to go back to the register. I was mid key making. But I didn’t argue. Then my main—

—truck delivery. And I was told YESTERDAY that we were going to be short staffed until AFTER THE FUCKING HOLIDAYS.

There was a small lull in customers and someone asked me if I could help make a key. I say “YES. I WILL HELP” because FUCK THE REGISTERS. I was overwhelmed and needed a moment away—

—TWO FUCKING SECONDS.

So, he showed me how to make keys. (I work in a small hardware store.) and told me that if there were no customers. To go help with keys.

I was fine with this. I was understanding and chill.

So. Onto today. Two days later. We are slammed for HOURS on end there’s been a —

//Hmmm