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Issue 10 Bad Job Story |
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Issue 10 Bad Job Story |
Hello once again everyone! It's Gina again, and since
the last time I wrote, I got married in Las Vegas and
quit my job at the tard-ranch. It was bad enough
before they hired the macho dumb-ass who didn't know
the first thing about wiping asses (which is
sad...what's there really to know??) and we didn't get
along; when our supervisor called us into the office
to try to make peace, he calmly told them a bunch of
lies (like that I hit him and a bunch of juvenile
nonsense). Everybody knows that when you're dealing
with a misogynist asshole, the best thing to do is to
push the homo button--and PUSH IT HARD! It doesn't
make things better, but it sure gets the bastard
pissed! So we're sitting in the office with the
supervisor, and he's lying a lot, so I called him a
cocksucker, asked him who had thier dick up his ass
for him to still have a job after all his fuck-ups,
and assured him that if I did hit him, he would have
left work in an ambulance, and the meeting went on
like that for awhile. But even after we made a corny
agreement to be civil to each other, the supervisor
was always finding small ways to underhandedly punish
me for the unpleasantness between the Cocksucker and I
(after all, she seemed to feel sorry for him after I
humiliated him and exposed him as a liar at the
meeting... it's funny how incompetence gets defended,
isn't it?).
So I quit.
Now I work in a ware-house shipping books, with a lot
of Chinese people who swear a lot. And I'm a lot less
miserable.
Thanks for reading!
From nosinaround@yahoo.com Mon Feb 12 14:29:02 2001
Hi again, Everyone; this is Gina... last time I wrote, [see below]
I shared a story where I took a retarded boy to the
dentist, and hi-jinks ensued.
This job-horror story has to with a different retarded
boy, and bodily functions as well.
At the facility where I work, we had a staff meeting
where it was announced that an eleven year old boy who
wears a colostomy bag was going to be staying for a
few days and may possibly come back permanently if all
went well. We were told that this boy was funny,
athletic, was able to verbally communicate, and most
importantly, needed little supervision with hygiene
related stuff (including cleaning his colostomy bag).
So the first day the boy came to stay, I was assigned
to get him ready for school. When I walked into his
room, I was greeted with two fists-ful of spit flung
at my face, and the flinger (who looked like the
Hamburglar without the costume) was shrieking and
cackling like it was the funniest thing. I told
Hamburglar that it was time to get ready for school;
he walked up to me, lifted his shirt, unclipped his
colostomy bag, squeezed it like it was a pastry bag,
and all the shit inside of it fell onto my shoe. He
also thought this was hilarious. Not being able to do
much else, I gave him the meanest glare I was able,
and told him to sit on the toilet while I cleaned off
my shoe. Before he did, he grabbed the supplies (a
plastic bottle and a thing that looks like a turkey
baster) he used for cleaning out his colostomy bag and
started to do it the way he was supposed to. So I
thought he finally got his evil-ness out of his system
and was finished testing me... boy, was I wrong!
While I was still cleaning the remaining shit off my
shoe, Hamburglar had filled the turkey-baster thing
with water and shit, and squirted it all over my pants
and in my hair, and laughed about it. So I silently
washed him myself, and handed Hamburglar off to
someone else to feed him. After that, I washed my
hair in the sink, and managed to borrow clothes that
almost fit me; the boys I take care of aren't very big
and I'm six feet tall.
So I had to cram my big ass and hips into a boys' pair
of jeans that barely met my ankles, and a Stone Cold
Steve Austin T-shirt that was too tight and made my
boobs stick out, and had to look semi-retarded myself
for the rest of the day. But I guess it beats being
covered in shit.
Love, Gina
Hi, gang!
This is your working girl, Gina Eccher here, with a
summary of yesterday's job mis-hap.
I work at a huge facility for people who are mentally
retarded; I work in the building where children and
teenagers live. Yesterday, my supervisor elected me
to take a very bad boy to his dentist appointment (no
one else wanted to), so I said "yes", because I'm
nice.
The boy I had to take is nine years old, and has one
arm that is useless and kind of hangs like a
chicken-wing, but his other arm is as big as Popeye's.
He can move a big couch with three people sitting in
it... no exaggeration. He is very difficult to
control. But he'd be such a cool kid if he wasn't so
destructive.
So we got to the dentist, and this boy started
shrieking and cackling like I was murdering him; after
the dentist tried to get some X-rays, she wanted to
clean his teeth. Since this boy was struggling and
fighting us (believe me-- he is very very strong
despite his disability), the dentist asked me to hold
his arms down while she did her dental stuff, and the
dental assistant did her thing with the spit-sucker
thing, and another dental assistant had to come and
hold his head still. While all this was going on, the
boy forced himself to throw up (he could do it with no
hands), and he blew chunks--right in my face!
The dental people watched the boy while I cleaned up
and called my supervisor to tell her what happened;
and it turns out she forgot to tell the nurse to give
him a sedative that morning to make him a little more
managable.
I wanted to wrap an aluminum baseball bat around
someone's head after all that.
Thanks for reading!
Editor's Note: Thanks for the enthusiastic description of a
challenging, puke-filled day! Please keep us updated!
Date: Sat, 5 May 2001 14:03:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: gina gick
To: whatever@whatevermagazine.com
Subject: The time has come to hang up the tard-cowgirl hat for good!
Love,
Gina
Date: Thu, 8 Feb 2001 16:46:43 -0800 (PST)
From: gina gick
To: whatever@whatevermagazine.com
Subject: I.B.M., U.B.M., We all B.M.
From nosinaround@yahoo.com Mon Jan 22 16:18:21 2001
Date: Sat, 20 Jan 2001 14:18:15 -0800 (PST)
From: nosinaround@yahoo.com
To: whatever@whatevermagazine.com
Subject: "Next time YOU take his ass to the dentist!"