But who reads that damn thing anyway.... and as a side note, Blogger's comment programming is teh suck. Back to Haloscan it is. In any case, I went to work and came back home about an hour to two hours shortly after. For the second time ever, I was 'sent' home. Why?
What is all comes down to is that I fricking can't stand R&B, rap, hiphop and the assorted junk. (Sorry to those that like it, I just don't.) What does this have to do with stoopid Long John Silver's? It seems that someone left a radio here way back when, and now, nearly every single time I come on shift, I'm being subjected to that crap! 98.5 The Beat, I hate you! They play it too often and loud. They are nearly the same damn songs over and over again. It's annoying. I tried being tolerant by not saying anything, sometimes lowering it from time to time, but they just turn it up when their favorite songs come up. I'm starting to hear this stuff as I try to go to sleep at night. I really wish the customers would complain about it so it would be forcibly shut off.
Hey, don't get me wrong, I've listened to that radio, too. I'll turn it up for a song I like. But in my opinion, it's never as often and as noisily as they do. I would have no problem if they kept it at a more reasonable volume. One of the other managers at least changes the stations and listens to a variety of stuff. I'm not a big fan of country or tejano either, but I can take them in moderate doses. And if someone is bothered by the radio playing and shuts it off, I take the damn hint and leave it off. These morons will eventually find the radio and turn it back on. Hello? Do you not get it?
I know I should've tried to compromise but honestly, most of the people I'm dealing with are asshats and I really don't think they would honor any sort of compromise. In fact, I think they would laugh at me if I tried to work anything out with them. My fault, I know...
So I had had it with their 'noise' today. I shut it off and almost immediately after, they turn it back on again. So another girl, (whether she's bothered by the music also or just by the song playing, I'm unsure) shuts it off. I go over, yank out the powet cord and pocket it so they can't turn it back on. I later stash it so it's not bulking up my pocket.
So the cook spends the next thirty or so minutes pouting. "I'm bored. This sucks... waah waah" and proceeds to shovel his cellphone to his ear (like he does anyway despite the fact that our cellphones are suppose to be off) and, I assume, bitch about it to someone. "Where's the cord" I hear, "where's the cord". They don't ask me, they just say it aloud so I don't volunteer any information about it and go about work.
Then the manager on duty, whom I refer to as the Grimace (because he wears a ghey purple shirt), starts looking around for the cord all frazzled-like. Upon reflection, I shouldn't be surprised that they spent a good while actually looking for the cord instead of having it occur to them that either myself or the other girl took it so the radio couldn't be played. I think they actually looked in a couple of the garbage cans, which is just plain insulting as unlike them apparently, I wouldn't go and just wantonly destroy something like that no matter how much I really, really wanted to.
When I go to the back to clean, Grimace finally gets some balls and asks me where the cord is.
ME: "It's safe."
GRIMACE: "What?"
ME: "It's safe. I'll return it after the end of my shift."
(Insert the other girl looking very amused by this turn of events.)
GRIMACE: "WHERE IS IT?" (He's not yelling at me, but he's clearly upset.)
ME: "I said I'll return it after my shift."
GRIMACE: "Tell me where it is. I'M THE MANAGER, give it to me."
ME: "I really don't believe that lies within your managerial duties."
GRIMACE: "That's not a request. Give it to me."
ME: "And are you gonna play the radio if I do?"
(Asshole hesitates for a while before saying "YES." He can't even be honest with this simple question. I think he was actually pondering if he could trick me with a "no". Dick.)
So it's a bit of a blur, but he pulls the "then go home" card on me. Something to the extent of "Give it to me or go home".
ME: "All right."
I clock out, grab my bag, give the babies back their cord, and left.
I'm already thinking of the ten other ways I could've handled it better, but I think I was just aghast at how ridiculous he was to use the "I'm teh Manager" ploy. You're the manager of the store, which that radio is not even the property of. It's not even your radio. He'd rather risk being short-handed than go a night without fucking hiphop music? WTF? And while I should've tried to compromise, neither the manager nor the cook tried once to compromise with me either. They just pouted about it. That radio was shut off twice, but they didn't waste a minute turning it back on nevermind that it was clear the other two of us didn't want the damn thing on.
The dick cook even muttered "You're not the only ones that work here" about me and the girl. Well neither are you, dickhole! God forbid the little shits consider someone else's feelings before inflicting their musical tastes and offensive lyrics to us.
Tomorrow, I'm gonna try and call the Store Manager and have the radio removed and if she brushes me off (which I think is 80% likely and the odds-on favorite), I'm calling John, our dreaded RGM, who I'm sure doesn't want anyone playing music in the workers' part of the store. And if they decide to give me a hard time about something as simple as a little ambient quiet, then I quitting this fucking job. I'm tired of these dickhole kids who just party and drink and think about themselves. I blame the Store Manager for being waaaay to accomidating towards them. They think that radio's a right when it's a privillege which I believe should be taken away.
