The grocery manager at Coles is a fuckwit. He couldn't manage an erection at a glory hole. He's got me doing this job, which I have to say I really don't mind. I enter strings of numbers into a handset. It's easy, but boring and time consuming. This I have mentioned before.
Except I'm not as fast at it as he expected. I don't know what he fuck he was thinking but when I'm going into it completely green some adjustment should been allowed for. Furthermore the job has to be done by a certain time or it's pointless. That's cool. But instead of accounting for me being inexperienced he's harping on at me about getting faster and making me stay behind to finish up. After four hours of constant data entry without a break you're not really good for much. I had people asking me questions on the supermarket floor and I couldn't string together sentences to answer them. My brain was indeed mush.
So I'm feeling a bit of pressure and stress from work. But it's not my fault. It's the goddamn manager. I just hope that his boss is making the fucker feel worse than he's making me feel.