who pissed in your Cheerios?

Forecast: Stormy

Drove to work, parked my car, walked the two blocks in the 20* weather, clocked in, stopped at the soda fountain to get my dose of caffiene, headed towards the cage. My usual routine. I walk over to the cage, and there's Steve, the supervisor, hanging out by some slots near the cage. I smile and say good morning.

"You know, when you're late for shift change, I have to call Gaming and tell them about it," are the first words out of his mouth. Now, I figure he's giving me a hard time about being late last weekend when my alarm clock went all wonky on me. I say, "Yes, I know, but I'm not late."

"You're five minutes late," he says, and follows me to the cage. "It's okay, though, because you can't start shift change BEFORE 7:30, but you can start it after. That's why there's the half hour when Ed and I are both in the cage for shift change."

"No, you can't start shift change late. Otherwise I have to call Gaming." Steve lets me in the cage, and I continue to counter his point, saying that we can't start shift change until AFTER 7:30, but that it doesn't have to start exactly at 7:30. I look at the clock, and sure enough, it's 7:35. I clocked in before 7:30, and I didn't diddle around getting to the cage.

"Why were you late, anyway?" he asks, rather rudely. "I dont' know!" I almost yell at him. At this point, I'm so upset with him that he's making a big deal out of NOTHING, in front of another co-worker. This is the second time Steve has done this to me, and I'm still pissed at him for the first time he did it, so this only fuels my fire a little more. "The roads were icy," I reply lamely, after actually stopping to think about why I was late. He has no reply to this, but instead goes to South Dakota State Gaming binder that has all the rules and regulations about gaming. He of course can't find anything in there about shift change that contradicts what I have been telling him, and what I have been told by other floor supervisors, so he says, "Well, I know that you can't start shift change before 7:30, and you can't start it after, either."

So does that mean if the clock ticks over to 7:31 we're screwed and can't do shift change? And that Steve would have to call Gaming to let them know that it didn't start precisely on time? According to him, that's what it means.

So I'm thoroughly pissed off by this, and start slamming drawers, dropping things on counters, and ignoring anything he might have to say to me, and staying on the opposite side of the cage as him. Dickwad.

Once Lane comes on and Steve leaves, I tell Lane what happened. He says that's about the 3rd complaint he's gotten in the last week about Steve, and that he was thinking of writing a note to Richard, head of all floor supervisors, telling him about it. Because it's basically against the law to reprimand people in front of others - employees or customers. I'm also going to talk to Marvin, who is the floor supervisor in charge of the cage, and see what the actual rules about shift change time are, because I think Steve is full of shit and has no idea what is going on.

The reason he has no idea going on? He's not the one in charge of the cage. When he's in the cage, he bumbles around and messes things up. He leaves peoples' credit cards in the credit card imprinter. Nothing is "easy" for him. He over paid a customer $200 for poker chips, and didn't find out about it 'til the next day. He just messes things up and takes forever to do things. He used to be in charge of the bartenders' schedules, but isn't doing that anymore, I'm not sure why. He used to be in charge of the custodial schedules, but couldn't handle doing that, and is now no longer in charge of anything. A floor supervisor who is only a few years older than me, and by far the youngest floor supervisor at the casino, who just started supervising a few months ago, is already in charge of the floor supervisors' schedule, and Steve isn't, because he can't handle it.

He's a former police officer, and has to assert that "power" he has over people every once in a while, and it always happens to be asserted over me, a cocktail waitress, and a hostess in the diner. We are the three girls who have complained the most about Steve, and I want something done about it. I'm sick of him doing that, and then acting like nothing happened an hour later. I'd rather have him still be crabby towards me than pretend to be nice after reaming me.

After I get done steaming about that all morning, I get to handle my absolute favorite customer. Note the eye rolling and gagging motions I'm making. This gentleman is about 60 years old, fat, and married, and not attractive. Ever since I have started working at the casino in August, he has taken a liking to me (as he does every woman in the casino, so I don't feel so picked on), and calls me "darling" and tells me what a beautiful smile I have, and how nice my hair looks today, and that I'm the prettiest cashier in Deadwood, or how he wished he was 40 years younger. Puke.

So today, he comes up to the cage, "Well how's my favorite cashier??" I make small talk with him, and he says "Can I tell you something personal?" *mental eyeroll* "Okay."

"Now," he says, "most people wouldn't say this, but I'm going to, and I'm a little hesitant to say this, but..."

Wait for it.

Keep waiting.

Ugh...

"...you have the most beautiful lips!"

PUKE!

So, being the nice person I am, I smile and thank him, and hope he leaves. I have learned that the less eye contact I make with this individual, the less he will talk to me, or give me googly eyes, or bother me. Ugh. Sick. It was all I could do to not shudder and make vomiting gestures.

So there is my day. Wonderful. Fantastic. Oh, and I woke up with a headache that didn't go away 'til after Steve left 'cause I finally took some ibuprophen when I got to work.