The Death of Sunday

Okay, fine, so maybe I'm feeling a little melodramatic right now.

It is very difficult to get me angry. People have tried. Intentionally. Unsuccessfully. But tonight, my boss made me really, really mad. As they say, he made my blood boil. I'm still feeling the effects.

I had to work today. As Applesauce so aptly put it, "you are not supposed to be at work." She may not have realized how precisely right she was. I have Sundays "requested." That is to say, I'm not supposed to work on Sundays. But I had to work today. I couldn't believe it when Cody, probably the coolest guy in the store, mentioned on Friday that we were doing the late shift together on Sunday. I don't work Sundays. As the saying goes, "It's against my religion." I was not a happy camper.

After leaving Eric Lackie's faith discussion group early—early, I say—to get home for work, I gave my grandpa a quick call on the celephone, seeing as how it was his birthday and all, and a three-minute call was in order. I then frantically changed into my work clothes and ran up to the dungeon of a grocery store. I arrived at 3:04. Sean, one of my bosses—yes, I have the wonderful fortune of having 3 bosses, of which Sean ranks the lowest, but is also the most directly in charge of me—came over, looking up at the clock.

He and Marc, the head honcho of the entire store, have this very frustrating way of being extremely sarcastic in their correction, whenever they thing someone's screwing up and feel the need to put them back in line.

Sean (stupid sarcastic grin): Hey Josh!
Tuck (that's me): Hey Sean. [deliberate omission of exclamation point]
Sean (still wearing that idiotic, saracastic grin): Hey, you were scheduled for three today, weren't you?
Tuck: Yeah.
Sean (looks up at clock as though he didn't just look at it 7.6 seconds ago): Oh hey, look! It's 3:04!
Tuck: Yeah.
Sean (finally ditching the annoying sarcasm that's making my blood boil): Josh, you're late.
Tuck: Yeah. I'm sorry Sean. I did my best.
Sean: Josh, you were scheduled for three, you need to be here at three.
Tuck: I know Sean, I tried, I got here as fast as I can, but it's really hard for me to get here on Sundays, that's why I have it requested.
Sean: Josh, I understand why you want Sundays off. I like to go to church myself. But sometimes, you gotta work on Sundays. Now, you're only 5 minutes late. [Somebody can't count to 4.] It's no big deal. But when you're scheduled to be here at three, you need to be here at three.
Tuck: Yeah.

Are you freakin' kidding me? I was told when I was hired that Safeway would respect my religious preferences when it came to scheduling. And I require Sundays off. If Cody hadn't mentioned it in passing, I wouldn't have even shown up today. Because I don't work Sundays. I could have called them up and said, "Hey, sorry, find someone else." Because I have that right, because I've gone through the motions, jumped through the hoops, done the necessary things to make sure that Sunday is not on the chopping block. But I didn't do that. No, I worked it. I worked 7 and a half of the busiest hours I've seen at that store. And he's gonna lecture me over four miscounted minutes, when I did my very best to get there on time for a shift that I should never have worked?

A while back, when I went in to permanently request Sundays off, Marc asked me why. Religious preference. He made me explain. No, more like, he made me justify. Funny, I don't recall them saying, "We honor all religious preferences in scheduling, once you pass a rigid screening, a lie detector test, and a psych evaluation!!" when they hired me.

The best part is yet to come: Cody is a shift manager. So he's privvy to "inside information." And he told me the reason I had to work, and the reason the schedules were so screwed up in general, was because the management made some serious screw-ups with the holiday scheduling. And still I get a lecture for showing up four minutes late—count them Sean, 4—to a shift that I shouldn't have had to work.

The result? Today was not Sunday. I don't know what day it was. But it was not Sunday. Sunday died as soon as I went in for work. And now the rest of my week is really off kilter, because Sunday sets the tone for my week. And even more so because there's no youth group, which makes me sad. But hey, it's Thanksgiving vacation, which can't be bad. And we're celebrating my birthday, which means I get presents. This is me being selfish because I'm pissed off. Haha. I'll shutup now before everybody comes to the conclusion that my biggest-kept secret is that I am actually a 4-year-old child.

Pastor, does this count as complaining?