I've been to Hell, and the Devil is a female who stands 6'2, weighing 220lbs EASY.
See, God rest the dead. My co-worker passed earlier this year - without going into too many details, dude drank himself to the point where his body shut down. Damn shame, dude was in his 40s and looked like he was 65, all crippled up. A real fucking mess. Now, we've been working w/ one man down for a few months, and shit can be tough. Our department hasn't shut down, but we need some help, so when my supervisor said they were going to be interviewing for a temp., I was all for it.
Now, before I dip into the nightmare we've lived in for 6 weeks, let me just tell you that I have a co-worker who isn't the team lead but wants to be. I'm gonna call her M.L., short for Marlboro Light, because that's what she smokes. She wanted to make sure we got the right person, so she sat in on the interviews. She interviewed the Devil, AKA Helltemp, and said "
hey, this might work, but she is going to have a problem getting along with Haitian Jack" (Haitian Jack is another co-worker)... I said whatever, if it works, it works.
OK, let me tell you that I've never been so annoyed at work in my LIFE! The day Helltemp started, no one wanted to help her - which is par for the course. I am the asshole who says shit like "
I'll train her on some stuff", and come to find out, I
sort-of have some history with her. Well, first things first, this nigga I'll call Chubbypimp hit me up on the sly like "
Yo watch out for that girl, everything she says is a lie"; it reminded me of
Memento, where Leonard wouldn't believe anything "Teddy" said because his Polaroid had a note that read "Don't Believe His Lies" or whatever. So she starts talking... and talking... and talking. Which is fine, but what the fuck? Where's your notepad? Where's your off button? Bitch can I take the batteries out? I find out that the chick is "married" (more on that later) to a nigga who used to manage this Big Box store that I part-timed at like 5 years ago. She apparently worked there as well, and tried to tell me that I even worked a Saturday evening with her, but I a) was long gone during the time period she placed and b) would've remembered working with Goliath.
Mind you, I know way more than I need to know about this chick, which is probably my fault. While my tweets about work-related hate are funny, that's also an outlet for me, so I can NOT say the shit I want to say to these pinheads. But I digress...
The bit about her marriage is a story altogether. The nigga she was "married" to is a fucking mack-a-roni. I knew for a FACT that he was a mack-a-roni, because I had to previously listen to his fiasco with a former crack-addicted meatball at the job, who ended up having static with Helltemp. The thing is, homegirl would slip up: another fact I know is that once you are
married, you stop using terms like
boyfriend or
girlfriend, you know? At least I did. On her Facebook page, her shit said "engaged", which further let me know the bidness. Bust it, though - she told me the nigga was hardly there. Not like he would come home late... nah, the nigga lived there like half a week at a clip, or just didn't come home.
Say what?
Now, while all of this is going on, I'm doing my damnest to train her - was even told that she picked up on shit quicker than most people would. What's crazy is - she didn't retain shit. Don't let her go home on a Friday and be asked to run a report we trained on all week - she'd hit me up every step like "
now what?" or "
what's this?"... no retention what-so-ever! While our building is going through renovations, I'm sitting across the room from my group, so I'm having to getup and help her 10, 12 times a day? I wore the fucking rug out with my back and forth!
And on top of all this, the bitch is pregnant with the mack-a-roni's baby! Yes, she started a job three months pregnant, and had no intention of telling anyone. I know because she is a stupid blabbermouth, and told me (even though I kind of picked up on it when she asked about benefits and shit - you know you're on a 90 day probation, right?)... whatever, that's just deep, because now I know this fucking big secret and feel like a snitch nigga if I tell my supervisor. And then I have to have the guilt of "
oh what if this bitch gets the job, then goes on maternity later in the year - will my boss ask me if I knew?" shit... bad situation, fam.
One afternoon, Helltemp informed me that the Mack-A-Roni was in a South Carolina hospital, essentially on his deathbed. She had no idea where the nigga was, no hospital name, room #, nothing. OK does that sound right to you? If I got sick out of town, my wife would be hellbent on finding out where the shit I was - not even knowing where her man is is not even on the fucking menu! And this chick accepted it, and kept it moving. She don't know this, but I had a feeling she was shullbitting me about the "marriage" right then. Whatever. Weeks of this, with a nigga in the hospital, getting worse and worse - and somehow you have no thoughts like "
maybe I need to take a day or 2 off and be with him". Blah blah, he's given 6-9 months to live. No cause for alarm, nothing.
The nigga died this weekend. RIP to the Mack-A-Roni.
Now, no disrespect to the death or to the situation, but this nigga macked to the GRAVE! How about Helltemp wasn't even his only chick! How about Mack-A-Roni wasn't in S.C. at all - the nigga was like 10 minutes away in another town with his
real wife?!?! A bitch that Helltemp and I worked with at the Big Box, a bitch who KNEW about his thing with Helltemp for like a year and change prior!
Talk about shit luck.
Now as sad as all of this is, the chick still has to go. I sympathize with her trying situation and all, but her work ethic is kind of crap. Whether its cussin' a bit too loud to always coming around my desk talking about her gas, or just loud talking in general. Or should I break down the numerous reports and projects I try training you on, only to have me continuously need my assistance in EVERYTHING? What about her already having taken 3 or 4 days off, in a 90-day probation?
Not to mention Helltemp and M.L. being the ones who have beef, and not Hatian Jack?!?!?! Bust it: M.L. would straight try and son Helltemp for ANYthing. I had a feeling they didn't get along, but when I have one hitting me by e-mail while the other is at my desk, both complaining about the other? My fucking head is spinning.
As yours probably is, and you're just reading this.
Long story (a bit) short, Helltemp came to my desk and told me that either tomorrow (Friday) is her last day, or she'll be going to another department. I got a feeling the other department won't have shit to do with her after an interview... especially if this bitch tells them that she plans on being out for 3 days next week. Yeah, I'm hoping this is "
peace out", but knowing my luck, the bitch won't go away.
I do promise this: if Helltemp does NOT leave after tomorrow, expect a shitload-more posts breaking down her fuckery. It might aggravate me, but I need to get this shit out of my system or I'm liable to crack.
CRACK!
So yeah, I've been to hell... its hot and it smells like feces. And the Devil is a 6'2, 220+ pound white chick who thinks she is cooler/more ghetto that she truly is. And I want out!
Is it odd to wish I was a sneaker head? Cats like Dallas Penn and my other peers are HEAVY into the footwear game, and have been for a bit. I like simple shoes, but I'd like to have a LOT of simple shoes. I'm comfortable in shit like New Balances, but with all the walking I do on the daily, I can jack a pair of dope kicks up. I'm on that "wear them a few times then keep them hidden" kind of stee-lo. Same thing with the streetwear - I love dope t-shirts, but I try to keep my best pieces hidden. What's the point in that? Maybe I just need a job where I can get stupid paid for being at home, or going out to events, and have a chance to rock some dope pieces... dreams, eh? Until then, I guess I'll just be building my collection, piece by piece.
