Roadhouse Rules

I like rules. REALLY like rules. Most people who meet me would probably not expect that.

It’s true that in a lot of things I find rules to be arbitrary or not well thought out. However at work, rules are a girl’s best friend. For example: today I had a vendor show up an hour past our posted dock hours. I told them to take a hike, albeit politely and even apologetically. They were disgruntled.

This is one of those situations where the rule actually MAKES SENSE. My job is more than waiting around for vendors. The vendors stop showing up 2.5 hours before I go home so that I have time to DO OTHER SHIT. Important shit, for that matter. They groused about what the old guy in my job would do  – for the record, NOT a good idea because I’M NOT HIM – and my response was “Tough shit.”

I honestly believe in the immortal words of Dalton: Be nice until it’s time to not be nice.

These guys knew full well they were after hours. Rather than apologize and suck it up, they tried to bully me. No surprise, I don’t respond well to bullying. It gets my back up. THEN, they did a B.S. song and dance for another guy at the store and got him to come to me on their behalf. To which I said “AbsoFUCKINGLUTELY not.” Because before, I’m giving you a grace – I’m new and not going to bust your balls. NOW I’M PISSED. So your options are to show up tomorrow or I call your boss. AND now I will NEVER give you a minute past my hours because you pulled this bullshit trip.

Pissing me off twice in the same shift is pretty impressive. Burning BOTH of your chances within a half an hour has to be a record. My foot in your ass, let me show you it.