Thursday, April 21, 2011

I probably shouldn't share this online, but writing calms me down.

Never before have I been so frustrated at work. My manager is fairly new to the shelter and simply does not yet understand how each area functions and what work needs to go into them. Today, I was set to close the two most time-intensive areas, plus two more areas. Yes, we were short-staffed, but that’s a lot of work. Incidentally, more than I could get done in the allotted time. However, as I was about to inform the assistant manager that I would be unable to get to cleaning a few things, I was told to move a bunch of dogs to a different area and sterilize the original area so that it would be ready for dogs coming in early tomorrow. This was ten minutes to six. I leave at six. For my weekend. When I told my manager that I had somewhere to be shortly after six she gave me a look that indicated that my job should take precedence over any petty thing I had planned. Albeit, I had nothing specific in mind, but I surely did not want to be there. Needless to say, I did not leave at six, but instead at six-thirty. And only that quickly because I had a little bit of help and I went terribly fast because I was about ready to explode from frustration.

I really need a new job. Otherwise I may turn into the Hulk and it won’t be fun for anyone.

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