Work Politics and A Weird Emotional Reaction
At work, there have been five girls: the store manager, her two assistant managers, and the two cashiers. One of the managers quit, but before she did, she told me that I ought to apply for the assistant manager position. I told her I didn’t want it. So we hired a new assistant manager whose been training for the last two weeks or so.
The poor girl has had such a hard time. If things in her life were normal, she’d be trained by now. But she called in sick for the week that we put her on the schedule to train for the job. She had a splitting headache that was making her throw up. This week, she’s developed a bladder problem; her doctor told her that she shouldn’t go to work, but she went anyway and didn’t even ask for the time off. We applaud her for that. And, along with the health problems, she’s having a nasty custody battle for her daughter with a manipulative ex.
And all this has been affecting her work. The assistant manager’s day shift is easy. Carry the register keys and straighten up the store. Stock merchandise in the back where the cashier can’t go much because she needs to be close to the register. Rescue the cashier when it gets really busy. Deal with new planograms. Answer the phone. Generally be the cashier’s support. Easy. But the closing shift is trickiest for the assistant manager because she has to count all the money and make sure it all matches up to what the register’s totals. And the closing cashier’s money all depends on the manager who closes.
The newest girl has been screwing up my totals a lot. Sometimes I’m several hundred dollars short, and sometimes I’m a thousand dollars over. And everyone else’s totals. She has to learn how to count the money. It’s her job. She realizes this, and today, she asked for a leave of absence to deal with the court crap and with her health.
We also just hired a new cashier this week. Most of it is because of the girl she’s replacing who’s worked here a little longer than I have. Today, I called our store manager because there were two cashiers scheduled for the closing shift. Me and the new cashier. We all knew that this girl was sharp. She remembered things she wasn’t even supposed to remember. We all knew that our store manager discovered recently that she had an extra hundred dollars in her budget, and this is how she decided to spend it. The new cashier was being shown the ropes of how to be an assistant manager.
I still don’t want to be an assistant manager. I don’t want the responsibility of keys and having to count and be accountable for all that money. I like the simplicity and solidity of my job, even though it hurts my feet. But I somehow feel insulted that the position wasn’t offered to me, even though I don’t want it. I feel rational enough that I don’t hate the girl who just got the job; it’s not her fault. It’s no one’s fault, and yet somehow, I feel offended. It really doesn’t make sense.
There’s a whole lot of estrogen floating around this store. I think I’ll ask for a raise tomorrow when I go in to get the schedule. She’s got an extra hundred dollars in the budget, after all.