So back in late November I had a psycholigical break. I had a bad day at work. I got into a heated argument with a lady sampling Boar's Head meats (She accused me of recording the temperatures of the prepared food wrong. That poking a hole in it would drry it out. I got into trouble despite I NEED THE CORE TEMP... not the surface temp.) and when I called her out on it she called me a scumbag on the sales floor. Doing the right thing I walked it off and away from the situation. Of course my nature is to say "I may be a scumbag but at least my groin regeon isn't an ISIS breading ground for a super STD."
Yet, I was the bad guy. I got into trouble.
On top of that I had a massive and commplex catering order to make. I had to make three full on company dinners to feed ALL the Delta Airlines employees. While I was doing that I had to make sure I had plenty of food for the walk in people. On top of that we had the company coming to see how the store is doing. So they took all my co-workers to CLEAN. I mean we had one person whose job it is to CLEAN THE ELEVATOR BUTTONS. So I was alone in doing all that shit.
So as many of you know my mom is disabled, crippled partially on her right side, and has been having terrible equilibrium problems and falling alot. I had to leave work early a few times to take care of her and some of those times she had to be taken to the hospital. So when the "company" came they tried to get me to stay late.
"You know my situation. She waits to go to the bathroom until I get home in case she falls. She doesn't shower until I am home. I am her caregiver."
Then they get all Don Corleone on me. "We let you go home early all those times. There's this thing called reciprocation. We do that for you and now we need you to repay your debt."
Repay my debt. 17 years of going to whatever store they feel I need to be. 17 years doing what they say and even OPTIMIZING techniques. Keeping equipment on life support because tech couldn't get there for several days. Working until my knuckles and the backs of my hands bled and my back and feet were screaming. 17 years of hobbling in with gout flare ups and still getting the work done. Being THE guy who got things so far ahead for the future shifts they actually were getting out early because I work that much harder. Getting shot at in a shootout that left two customers, one co-worker, and the gunman DEAD and being THE ONE GUY who came to work as soon as it re-opened and worked the deli, Seafood, and meat department SOLO because nobody could walk over the spot our friend was shot. Apparently I still OWE them.
I didn't give a fuck. I clocked out at my scheduled time and went home. All the way home I held it back. The urge to scream. The urge to punch out all the windows in the car. The urge to buckle down and cry. I supressed it until I got home and saw my mom in her condition. At the time we didn't know what was causing it but her mind was gone. She stared at the floor and would just say "Okay... okay..." and my legs buckled. I couldn't hold it in anymore and I gave mom a big hug and just cried. THat was enough to snap her out of it a bit. She wondered what was wrong. She got so infuriated by what happened she called my store and ripped the manager a new ass. But they insisted on talking to me. Which didn't go well because I was so out of composure I could barely get words out. My head was hurting so bad I wanted to pass out.
Anyone who has been taken to the hospital and put on suicide watch knows what happens here. You get put in prison. You can't leave. Off duty cops guard the area. You can't poop like a normal person. You get some big goon standing outside a fogged glass door on the stall.
Meanwhile I am in the hospital they sent cops to my house to search for all my weapons. I do have guns and I do have a respectable collection of knives and stabby things and blunt clubby things. Most antique or show only stuff. So that left me feeling a little violated. They went through my computer and accounts to see if I had been mentioning anything dangerous. Since everything was clean they took my guns and other stuff and I was allowed to come home.
I am much better now. Better than I have been in many many years. I woke up and realizd that the old me never would have let that boss run me up a tree like he did. So no more. I'm moving stores anyway. I'm going back o a good store I know better. Things HAVE changed there but I can handle change.
Anyway... I got the bill for my hospital stay. $8,747 for ONE NIGHT of observation and talking to a robot. (Yeah, I talked to a robot!)
So... I know some of you are on the verge of going crazy. My advice to you... don't go crazy. It costs too much money.