I'm sorry. Hopefully you'll find another job soon.
What was your job?
Dry grocery sales associate. Basically, I stocked and rotated canned food and shit.
Whelp...got fired. Apparently, I wasn't working fast enough, and I "wasn't going to work out." Funny that...considering I worked so hard, I had sharp, stabbing pains in my chest that made me terrified I was having a heart attack.
Oh, and they didn't give me any paperwork, either. Sooooo...I feel like raisin some hell.
My advice...get on unemployment as fast as possible. Wal-Mart loves to pull this shit, giving bullshit reasons to fire people that are in violation of their own policies. Raise hell dude. No paperwork means you've got a chance.
Ironbite-though less of one then I had as I think you were on your probationary period.
Haha, I've got a disability advocate on my side already. In fact, its the lady I do work for during the bi-annual yard sale. I told them, in no uncertain terms that I suffer from social anxiety disorder, mild OCD, and ADHD. I believe the term she used was "reasonable accommodation." Let's see what magic she can work...she said she'd call once she's done some digging. I like her.
People who expect everyone else to constantly do them favours, and then whine, piss and moan when someone asks for one tiny little favour in return.
That sounds JUST like Drew. He's got NO fucking problems asking to borrow games and shit, and he's also got NO problems claiming said games in the name of GAWD (whose protection disappears the moment my brother and I appear on his doorstep, demanding our shit back...funny, that.), but...well, I'll give you an example.
A few days ago, I got sick at work...I don't know if it was bad canned pasta or severe stress, but I was vomiting very badly and one of my managers told me, in no uncertain terms, to go home. Well, I talked to Brit, and she said Drew was in-transit and could just drive a wee longer to come get me. So, I texted him and asked, I told him that I was puking up my whole stomach contents...
and the piece of shit had the fucking nerve to demand gas money from me. Motherfucker, the only reason I could text you was because I'd vomited so much, there wasn't anything LEFT in my stomach I could puke up.
I DON'T NEED YOUR BULLSHIT.Needless to say, I got a ride from Brit who used Granny's car, which ISN'T a barely-working piece of shit. Fuck that asshole. In the ass. With a cactus coated in salt.