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Friday, March 14, 2008

I feel like I should be saying I’ve died and gone to heaven.


But fuckme wouldn’t I be lying!

That HorribleHag of a woman called Pottie has either been…a) smoking the bleach…b) sniffing the softener…Or…c) believes we are laundressers-in-arms fighting the good laundry fight or something annoyingly unifying.

Whichever one, I wish the fuck she’d stop hugging on me.

No really.

I told that HOH 420 Prancey she needs to get a directive out that no laundry staff is allowed to hug me. Especially Pottie as I am somewhat concerned that her lazy arsed ways might be catching. It’s not that I am against people hugging me [I mean, they are only human after all]…it’s just I like to actually “like” you before you do invade my personal space. Pottie I do not specifically like much.

The last two times I have crossed paths with her she has bloodywell hugged me.

Both times I have thought WTF is she hugging me for and now can someone, anyone, please stop her. I don’t care if they need to pinch her really hard to get the she-heathens grip released, just do it! If it happens again [and I have no doubt that it won’t] I am just going to start shrieking my bloody head off and hopefully the other staff will NOT think it’s just one of the Resoes having their yelling fit.

This is all much to the enjoyment of my fellow smokees, especially one of the nurses who cackles hard when I’m telling them about these horrific hugging experiences. More to the enjoyment of my mother-in-law who was fortunate enough to witness the last incident.

Speaking of work…haha as if I got anything else to talk about. Seems that’s all I get to do lately. Work. Oh. AND train two new laundressers. HaHa UnReliableJune quit. Finally. I did my best to instil good linen folding techniques, extolling the virtues of neatness to both trainees. I managed to refrain from openly threatening them if they become SloppySallies.

One is a lady of about sixty, SillySheila who on the first day of training said she can’t read very good so she’ll just hold up the name tag on the Resoes personals to match up to the names on the rooms. I just fucking looked at her and started to laugh in disbelief, mixed with a little bit of horror. Returning the personals is gunna take bloody ages for you then isn’t it, is what I told her.

I don’t think she’ll hack the laundry too well, 420 said not only was the sweat dripping off her and the laundry room covered in washing the first day she worked alone but she had to get 420 to return B-Wings personals. A task 420 wouldn’t be interested in doing every one of poor old Sheila’s shifts. That goes without saying.

The other is Dusk, in her thirties and lives close by. Bit squirrelly. But she’ll keep up with it good enough. If she forgets to do something the first time she’ll remember the second go round. Admittedly I could “help” Dusk more. Did a room plan and stuck it on the wall plus a written running list she can refer back too if needed. No use doing the same for that dear old SillySheila. She might have nothing to match the letters up to.

I had to laugh at 420’s reaction to this bit of inability to read info. She said well she signed all the forms. I’m like well yes 420 she’s gunna be able to sign her name, doesn’t mean she read the documents. Then she said that explains why SillySheila asked one of the office staff if she could take the forms home then bring them back signed the next day. Nevermind. She makes a good housekeeper. And she does.

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Posted by apositivepessimist :: 12:46 am :: 13 comments

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