Why I left the newsagency
I had a job at a newsagency for about two months ago last year. Now, before I had applied there, I'd worked in another newsagency for over a year, so I'd say that I know pretty well how it all works.

However, my boss was not only the most anally retentive man on the planet, but also convinced that I was incredibly stupid as well. I got in trouble for replacing the change in the tills, in case I mucked it up or stole the money (wtf). I got in trouble for counting instant lottery ticket winnings without telling somebody, in case I mucked it up.

It really bothered me. I'd comfortably carried out a lot of duties at the newsagency I worked at before, yet at this place, prestigious tasks such as operating the phone credit machine was reserved for senior members of staff - usually only two people rostered on in a very busy newsagency. Apparently us non-senior staff were not to be trusted. If we made a mistake, we would be wasting time. Let me point out that the staff ended up having to stay half an hour over time (without getting paid) at closing time because so much stuff hadn't been done. Sigh.

Anyway, back to me. I finally decided to leave this anus of a place when I was told to pull out the poles that hold up the doors at the front of the shop. After fiddling around with this great big bloody pole which was probably three times my height, I began to carry it to the storeroom out the back. No problems, right? Suddenly, my cats-bum-face of a boss steps in front of me and says sternly, "I need to talk to you about something."
"Sure," says I.
"You're not carrying that pole right."
I was then lectured on how to carry a pole. How I was to carry it at a slight 45 degree angle so I could see where I was going yet not hit the ceiling. How I was to move it to the side when i was pulling it out of its slot, otherwise I would damage the door. And on and on it went for 10 minutes, and was then told to hurry along because I was wasting time.

I couldn't think of anything to say except for an agreeing mumble. Lectured for 10 minutes about how to carry a pole. Bloody hell.

After my shift, I phoned a mate of mine who was the boss of a video game shop to get a new job as soon as I possibly could.

And I haven't even told you about the lecture I got about the proper method for mopping a floor... jesus christ.

Length? Not as long as the pole.
(TheChicken Five hundred thousand points from Gryffindor, Mon 24 Sep 2007, 11:18, Reply)