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Warden
 ♥ My name is Alicia. I go by ALMIGHTYALICIA on the net. musings
I adore loud stuff and bright colours. I am a HUGE movie buff. I also spend half my life watching various TV shows. I practically worship the Moon. And I like observing the clouds.
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Posted Tuesday, September 04, 2012 // 9:23 pm
Burned to a light shade of purple
 I burn myself pretty frequently during work. It fucking hurts. And my fingernails are of the oddest colour right now. It's purple further inwards and skin colour at the tip. Talk about having ombre nails. For me it just effortlessly appear with pain and sufferings. Okay more stories about my work. This time about a customer. Yes I've had a psycho customer. It was this grandmother who wasn't very old along with her daughter and grandson. She came into the shop and asked if we sell bread. When all you can see is egg tarts and canned drinks. My face was plastered with a smile even though I really am laughing at her in my head. She went ahead to sit at the seats provided without ordering anything and discussed where they can go to get lunch when it is already two and I've already told them that there are food court just across the road. I think motherhood does make people less motivated to leave anywhere. That shall me one of my proven laws. Anyway, the grandmother eventually bought an egg tart, but it was after countless complaints of treats that are too sweet though she never tried any of our things before. And after she was done with her tart, her daughter contemplated to have one too and she just went ahead to judge the rest of the flavours. By the way, she picked the apple cinnamon one which in my opinion is a tad sweet than most of the flavours. So I really just wanted her to leave. But NO, she had to bring her grandson who was starting to make A LOT of noise BEHIND the counter to where I was to show him the action of me wiping the tart moulds. Really bitch, really? First of all, behind the counters is KNOWINGLY off-limits. Second of all, what benefits can he have seeing me wipe the cups? Is he able to help me? Is it that interesting of me to wipe noisy metal cups that he has to shout plus cry right next to my ear? There's an imaginary line, don't cross it. Okay now on to the mental chronicles of my boss. Here's the deal about my boss. She speaks English but it's the poor kind that you obviously know that she being to learn in her mid-twenties/thirties so her texts are often a little weird. For the first few days, she pronounced my name perfectly fine, but lately it evolved to "Ah-li-sia-ah". 3 syllables to 4. When she started off fine. I guess she kind of know that the way she pronounced it got odder and odder, either that or she caught me rolling my eyes whenever she says my name wrongly, she asked me to correct her and that scared the shit out of me. Turns out she just wanted to ask if I wanted to take the damaged goods home since it's either that or throw away. Thank god for free food. She still criticise everything I do and I just rolled my eyes secretly whenever. But I try to cut down on it cause when I do, I might spill the batter thing or the toppings fall off or I burn myself. That would result in further reprimanding. So yea. But you know what peeps? 10 more days. 10 more days to freedom. Labels: irritating things does happen to me, work stories, working |