Yeah, great way to start off employee appreciation week.

Everyone is getting these this week. TMAW stands for Team Member Appreciation Week. I assume. Makes sense.

What does not make sense is that I got scheduled to work tomorrow 8:30-3:00 without my knowledge. That’s right. It’s the first day of team member appreciation week and no one either asked or told me I was given an extra shift.

Had I not felt like my uterus and surrounding organs were going to fall out Wednesday night into Thursday 6/3 and not called out, that would given me seven consecutive days.

I just took this screenshot a minute ago, after I posted this blog an hour, or so, ago. I remembered I made this Facebook post, as a joke, but it shows that as recently as Saturday, I was unaware that I’d have to work on Tuesday. Boy, I was looking forward to having tomorrow off.

Gee, it’s not like I’ve been scheduled twice for seven consecutive days, eight consecutive days, back in February, and twice for six consecutive days-the last of which happened two weeks ago.

If I hadn’t, on a whim, checked the schedule just after clocking out today, I would not have known I was scheduled for tomorrow. Then I would have been marked as a, “no call/no show.”

This is bullshit.

I’m still happy to not be working at Walmart, but this is bullshit.

Why did I ever quit Publix?

Oh yeah, I was bored and wanted to write more and concentrate on my anthropology education.

This part is so sad it’s humorous. I left the time clock/former breakroom with steam blowing out of my ears. I headed toward the front area to flag down my immediate supervisor, Yolanda (close to her real name); she was headed right toward me. She was shuffling a stack of star cards-that’s what that is in the photo up top. “Here, Pam, this is for you. It’s employee appreciation week. There are cupcakes in the (new) breakroom…” “Yeah, I already got one of those, thank you. I need to talk to you about the schedule. I just discovered, on accident, that I was given a shift tomorrow. No one asked or told me about it.” Then, showing her my appointment book, I continued, “I am trying to get in to see my gastroenterologist tomorrow. I’m still in pain that I thought was from my D&C and I had to call out to go see my OBGYN and, it’s not my uterus. It got kicked back to my gastroenterologist.”

My TMAW cupcake.

Her response was classic denial. She got re-married about ten days ago and then was in Mexico and the Caribbean on her honeymoon. So, now she’s overly tan (tan that screams desperation by almost being a burn) and full of attitude that nothing that happened while she was gone is her responsibility.

She basically threw her hands in the air and said, “Oh, well, I was gone, the schedule was messed up and I don’t know what they did. I don’t have enough people. You are the only one who can work at 8:30.” Hmm, sounds like you know YOU are SUPPOSED to be responsible for the schedule. “Well, this gives me six consecutive days.” More denial.

What my schedule WAS.
What I discovered at 3:14 pm not long after clocking out today.

Are you kidding me? Note, the dodging of responsibility, and blaming others. Insecure people do this. People who get their, “self esteem,” from their job titles do this. External validation: it’s completely pathetic.

She added, “Well, you could call out.” Yeah, and get a point-the point system at Sprouts isn’t as punitive as it is at Walmart. It’s 12 points versus 5 at Walmart. “I don’t want to call out,” I snapped.

I offered a compromise, “Could you at least take me off Wednesday. I might be able to get into the doctor then?” “I can look at it and let you know tomorrow.”

This is bullshit.

I truly am glad to be working at a place that is not Walmart, but this Sprouts store is not a well oiled machine.

I want to work from home. I have to figure this out. Because THIS is bullshit.

On my way home I said to myself, “Fuck them, if I can get in to see my gastroenterologist’s ARNP tomorrow at any time, I won’t be going to Sprouts.” At a stop sign, I scrolled through my contact list till I got to his number. At another stop sign, close to home, I hit, “call,” and put it on speaker.

Yeah, the call was over half an hour.

Nothing is set up for the digestive doctor, but the wheels are in motion. The doctor isn’t in this whole week. It’s Summer; he’s probably on vacation. I don’t care. I’ll take the ARNP. Something isn’t right. I’m a little less stressed after reading that diarrhea isn’t necessarily a symptom of IBS (irritable bowel syndrome). Constipation can be an issue. I don’t have the first symptom, which is odd for me. Usually, if I have digestive issues, it’s the dash to the john issue. But, I’m not having the classic version of constipation either. Mostly, I’m having pain that sometimes feels like it IS my uterus.

I am so sick of health issues. I am so unused to having health problems. I am very lucky it isn’t worse. I am very grateful, but I’m so frustrated. I was supposed to be able to get back into shape last year after I got my new knee. I’m sick of being out of shape. I just want to reach the point where I know what I’m dealing with and kick it’s ass.

For the last week I’ve been freaking out about the pain because the polyps taken out on 3/16 were large, and I had NO pain or symptoms. Now, I’m having pain, so what the hell does THAT MEAN?

But, after doing some online reading, on WebMed and other reputable sites, I kind of feel that it could be IBS. Considering all the stress I’ve been dealing with since 2007, and especially, since 2016, it makes the most sense.

I just want to get on with my life. I’m not ready to keel over yet. And, I’m seriously ready to have a home-based job.

I’m sick of the egos of retail managers.

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