I and this game of full-contact retail don’t play nice together. Tonight epitomized pretty much everything I hate about it. For the last three hours of my shift, I was playing a one man defense in what should be a three-man team. Things work best when there are three of us. Anytime somebody needs something that requires a forklift, it takes two guys and that third is still free to answer the phone and/or help customers. One guy? Totally two guys too few.

For the last two days, notes with our projected hours for the week have been showing up with “NO OVERTIME” written in a big, bold, foreboding hand. OK, fine, but that means I have to leave half an hour before the scheduled end of my shift Friday. On one hand, I feel bad about leaving the place a bit of a wreck. On the other, management gets what they deserve.

And I had a pebble in my shoe. That was, of course, inevitable after sweeping up 60 pounds of leaked concrete. Busted bags are a fact of life but tonight it looked like someone had just taken two bags and swung them around like a toddler, spewing dust and pebbles everywhere.

Sit and freakin’ spin, people. I quit. I put in my two-weeks notice a week ago. I’m tired of dealing with asshole customers and out-of-touch managers. It is why I had reservations about starting into retail and has only cemented my feelings.