Yes, that’s what I did.
I HATED every minute of it. I need to be challenged, stimulated, motivated… I can’t just stand around all day doing NOTHING. I learnt this when I started the job, of course.
I mean, in my interview, I said in basic English “I like being busy, I like projects, I like targets, I like curveballs.” I was met with nods and enthusiasm… That’s what we like, that’s what this job is like, this job is suited to you! Those nods were just lies. Ok, maybe not lies… But it’s all relative, isn’t it. People said to me on the job “Oh god, it’s so busy today!” flustered and flapping, and I just looked at them with bemusement “Ok…”
I spoke to my supervisor, after she penalised me for being late (because she wrote the time in the wrong format on our rota), maybe I insulted her with “I’m used working in an environment with a much faster pace and a lot of responsibility”, but she dismissed my attempt at enquiring on how I should go about resigning, ensuring me that we would be so unbearably busy I’d be eating my words in just a few hours time…
I was left with the shoes. Shoes, glorious shoes! “I hate being on shoes” – Everybody. I suppose walking back and forth between the shoe display and the stockroom is a bit too much like hard work, when you’re used to doing nothing? Anyway, I actually found it quite enjoyable… I could get used to this! I mused.
Then my supervisor intercepted me,
“Walk and talk with me, walk and talk.” I walked “Do you mind talking to me, about your epilepsy… I didn’t know you were epileptic, did you tell them in your interview?”
“Yes.” Ok, what has this got to do with anything.
“I wasn’t told about this, what did she say to you?”
“Nothing, I just told her when she asked me about medical conditions in relation to manual handling and ladders, to be on the safe side.” I laughed, let’s make light of this, it’s not a big deal.
“Well, we’ll need to risk assess you. You know, we won’t be able to send you back of house, in case you have a fit, so… You won’t be able to go to the stockroom, and do you mind telling your colleagues? So they know you can’t go to the stockroom? It’s nothing to worry about, we wouldn’t exclude you for your disability, but you will need to be risk assessed by a manager when you’re in next, we have to do everything by the book.”
I’m not going to lie, I’m not a violent person, but I felt like knocking the bitch out. How dare she make assumptions about my ‘disability’, how dare she speak to me about personal matters on the shop floor, in earshot of other staff members and customers, how dare she take away my beloved shoes?!!?! I got a little bit tearful in that moment, the frustration, the overwhelming emotions related to this stupid diagnosis… She looked me dead in the eye, she saw I was upset, she turned and walked away.
I spent the next hour of my shift manning the fitting room, gritting my teeth and processing the conversation… 3pm, time to go home, but no one came to ‘take me off’, so I waited, getting more and more angry and upset and hating myself just as much as the stupid vacuous woman who put me in this mood. Twenty five minutes felt like a lifetime, and when the sweet girl came to relieve me and apologised, as she’d been sent on her break late, I snapped at her and stormed off to the till point. FIVE staff members patrolled the area, you know, in wait of the horde of customers who would soon be arriving! The supervisor was blocking my path, I needed to sign out and quickly, before I combusted.
“Are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m going home (30 minutes late, you vile wench).”
“Ok, do you know when you’re in next? Monday”
I called out a goodbye, no one responded. This really is an unfriendly environment, I thought, as I left the job for good.
I went straight to my friends’ house and ranted, then burst into tears. “Leave” they proclaimed, “Fuck them!” they assured. I went home to my Mum “Leave” she said, angered. I emailed my resignation with immediate effect to HR. Goodbye.
Anyway, on Wednesday, I went and got a new job. It’s not the end of the world.