Your typical work rant and a healthy dose of self hate.

I kinda sorta maybe hate my new manager.

She randomly appeared at our store about a week ago, her presence simultaneously prophesying the disappearance of our assistant manager. He was shipped off to another store because apparently, they suck, and they need him much more than we do at our supermarvelous store.

Whee.

I’m not sure why I dislike the new manager so much. Maybe it is because she loves to pretend that she knows exactly what she is doing despite the fact that she has no clue.

Or perhaps it is because she likes to tell me how to do things that I have been doing for months, things I knew how to do before our old manager even got hired.

Maybe it is because she doesn’t understand how it takes more than thirty minutes to close the store when she gives us about 239234084 other things to do besides the regular closing procedures.

Or maybe it is just because looking at her just makes me mad.

Now, I suppose that I should not really have all that much of a problem with her, because she is a nice woman in some way, I’m sure, but I have to admit that knowing that the nicest and best sales person in our store (the same girl that gets along with just about everyone) dislikes her probably more than I do does make me feel just the tiniest bit less guilty.

I need to find a new job. Chances are I’d land a job with a boss that I despise even more, but I think the benefits of working closer to Dawson and getting paid more (hopefully) would be enough to make me clench my teeth and bear the awfulness of it all.

Oh, young adulthood is definitely awesome. Fer sure.

By the way, the most self-damaging feeling in the world: Looking for the biggest pants size in the store, buying them and taking them home (sure that they would fit you) and finding that once you get home those huge pants are too small.