Word of the Day: dundrearies Preface: Today at work sucked. The system went down last night and so the audit was barely done by the time I got there at seven. It took both Anita and Jeff [who has been is a most foul mood lately, understandably] to figure it out, and so they were both angry and frusterated when I got there and not willing to stay and help with the one hundred and fourty-freakin-six checkouts I had. I've never ever worked when there were that many to check out, and if it was anywhere close to that I was with someone else. Any road, shortly after I'd gotten to work and counted the drawers, I saw one of the SkyWest pilots walk into the restaurant. Apparently on Sundays they now have a later flight and I actually get to see them instead of them leaving at five thirty in the morning or whatever they do. I realized that Bobby [the eleven to seven van driver] had just left to take a crew to Bloomington and might not have been back to take the pilots to the airport, and there was no van driver on the schedule until eleven this night. Freaking out, I try to call Jeff to tell him, but he didn't answer his cell phone. I went so far as to clean out Sebastian in case I had to take them to the airport while Anita watched the desk. But, thankfully, Bobby came back in time. Thankfully because our pilots have the tendancy of sometimes getting quite mean with us when things aren't their way. And so Anita and Bobby left whenever they left and I was by myself, which is fine. I love to work by myself at the desk when it's busy because I know what's going on, there's no one else in my way or using the printer while I'm trying to, and I feel so great afterwards knowing that I'm so very awesome. What I do not like and, in fact, hate greatly is when there's no manager on duty [which makes me the MOD] and things happen. Things like no van driver [or a porter or maintenance guy who can drive because we hire dumbasses who don't have their licenses or have them suspended] on the schedule and a dishwasher walking out on his job, both of which were brought to my attention when there were twenty [not an exaggeration] people in line to check out. Thank goodness Vineta, who apparently and for some reason stayed the night at the hotel, came to turn in her keys. She waited until I wasn't busy and I told her about the van driver [and the two UP guys who were waiting for a ride], not being able to get a hold of Jeff, and the dishwasher incident. She called Jeff with [doy] no response and then called Adrian, who came down from Cuero, called Chris the kitchen manager [who I think was supposed to be MOD],got her up there to drive the van and her son to help in the kitchen, and then left somewhere. Did I ever mention I hate Adrian as a general manager? Because I really do. Any road, when I needed Chris to drive the freakin van, I couldn't find her and still had to call Jeff and get him to drive. He was mad as all heck. It calmed down after the break I didn't take at eleven, but it still took a lot of time to catch up, staple the reg cards to the receipts, preassign rooms, and make keys for Priority Club members. There were, however, many complaints I fixed [aka took off money] along with many many small mistakes of Charlie's [the new guy]. It really sucks when I fix all these mistakes and then forget to tell Jeff that Charlie doesn't know enough to work by himself yet. Because I'll probably forget by the time tomorrow comes. Oh, and newsflash--I'm too nice. Patrick's three month birthday is tomorrow. Expect lots and lots of freakin cuuuuute pictures. In a surprising move by JD's manager, he's being moved into floral from stockclerking again after being moved into stockclerking from framing. He's going to order the book and all that good stuff, he'll get a raise. Supposedly. It's always supposedly with his manager until it happens. So that's good for him. I'm very happy about that. I'm very happy in general [except for work, where I'm becoming, again, the disgruntled employee, though there seem to be more of us]. I do love JD so very much, even though he annoys the hell out of me sometimes and makes me feel bad about myself. He doesn't know he's doing it--it's more like me doing it to myself and blaming him. My baby's not going to be a teenager in a month.