I hadn't been at work five minutes when I wanted to scream at Lapdog. I wasn't feeling well, in fact had been trying to get my shift covered--I've felt like crap all week, and couldn't really talk this morning. But nobody would pick up my shift, so I went--super fun!
I was supposed to be a second cut, but didn't want to stick around, so I asked somebody else if she'd take it. She said yes, and I went to change it on the chart ... and then remembered how ridiculously touchy Lapdog is about that. If the chart on the wall differs from his print-out, he will flat out ignore it and then bitch at you when you mention it. Mature, right?
So I approached him in the kitchen and asked if it was okay for me to switch cut times. He stared at me for about ten seconds, giving me the nastiest, crustiest look, as if I were something smelly .... and then he shrugged and walked away.