Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Just Another Day

dis·as·ter (d-zstr, -ss-)
n.
1.
a. An occurrence causing widespread destruction and distress; a catastrophe.
b. A grave misfortune.
2. Informal -A total failure: The dinner party was a disaster.
3. Obsolete- An evil influence of a star or planet.
[French désastre, from Italian disastro : dis-, pejorative pref. (from Latin dis-; see dis-) + astro, star (from Latin astrum, from Greek astron; see ster-3 in Indo-European roots).]
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JaneRussell leads me to the ATM, adding emergency money after a weekend in which (assistant manager) Disaster has done nothing, apparently, according to JaneRussell, but state how hungover she was and talk about how many guys were involved (JaneRussell uses more colorful language, here).

And JaneRussell is dawdling, takin' her sweet time coming out to the ATM, which drives me nuts. People will soon start pouring in the use the machine, so let's go!

Acton: Move it!!!
JaneRussell: NO!! YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER!!!
Acton: (mumbling) Yeah, but I could be [if I'd fallen for a linebacker]. C'mon.

And all the while we're in the vestibule, no customers around, we're singing an old Human League Song (I'm using my indoor voice, she is not), when I realize that our newish, very sweet manager has been sitting at his desk the entire time, no doubt being serenaded with don't you want me baby? Don't you want me OoooooOOO...and I, with coins for eyes, make this observation, but JaneRussell knows this, doesn't care, and I'm hoping he's just really engrossed in his work.

I was also hoping that Manager Bonbon isn't overhearing JaneRussell complaining about Disaster too much. It's hard to imagine what such a sweet guy is thinking about the drama in this place. No one wants to be around Disaster. Marilyn, our head teller, and Disaster are pretty much at war. How charming. Today, Bonbon called Marilyn into the conference room, and it was obvious that this wasn't about banking business. As Marilyn walked into the room, Disaster narrowed her eyes and stared, a look of vengeance, as if to say, so there, bitch, take that. I have no idea what it was about, but it's back and forth, tit for tat, and no one knows where it will end. Marilyn is petty and spoiled, and Disaster reminds me of the boss in The Devil Wears Prada.

She, who is salaried, never works long hours. I am not salaried, am not supposed to get overtime, but I wound up staying an hour later tonight to help out a newer supervisor who is not familiar with some of the settlement stuff that needs to be done. Disaster knew this, but left anyway. Hey, whatever. She's blaming this on Marilyn's scheduling, and it's not her problem.

At least one person is having fun around here.

5 comments:

Doug said...

Haha, It's 80s week, I guess.

My verifier is "psylo"

actonbell said...

OH, Doug, those verifiers are haunted!

Logophile said...

What a great photo!
Perfect fit

actonbell said...

Thanks, Logo!

TLP said...

*sigh* so nice not to work anymore. I love your work stories.